I haven't seen Clark Gable in the now-mythic PARNELL, but Keir
Dullea, surely recruited for his hotness in 2001, takes the cake in
this 1969 A.I.P. telling of the life of the great whippersnapper. The
idea of translating the agonies and ecstasies of Sade into drive-in
terms is mouth-watering, but, aside from a few Jess Franco
zooms into undulating backsides (shot through whorehouse-red
filters), you're stuck in snoozeville with an empty tank of gas.
Worse (or perhaps better?), Dullea manages to make every
eighteenth-century line sound like a college basketball player's
attempt not to cry in front of Coach.
Dullea, surely recruited for his hotness in 2001, takes the cake in
this 1969 A.I.P. telling of the life of the great whippersnapper. The
idea of translating the agonies and ecstasies of Sade into drive-in
terms is mouth-watering, but, aside from a few Jess Franco
zooms into undulating backsides (shot through whorehouse-red
filters), you're stuck in snoozeville with an empty tank of gas.
Worse (or perhaps better?), Dullea manages to make every
eighteenth-century line sound like a college basketball player's
attempt not to cry in front of Coach.