This British version of Cocteau did good business on the strength of it's 'X' certificate and saucy title.
Naturally critically it was a sitting target and reviled as a calamitous mistake (mainly by people who hadn't actually bothered to see it), but Cocteau actually quite liked it and thought it a considerable improvement on the 1948 version.
The use of friction between two middle-aged to provide the story's driving force is a welcome novelty. The atrocious sound recording simply heightens the theatricality of the piece (a cupboard that loudly creaks opens at inopportune moments is a nice touch); while the framed photographs of the son at different ages liberally scattered about the room provide an ironic commentary on the present events.
The whimsical tone is established at the outset by a tongue-in-disclaimer that the events depicted could only happen abroad. The setting is explicitly identified as Paris, but all but one of the cast speak impeccable English and apart from an obviously painted Sacre Couer seen through the young hero's window and a kitsch accordion score by Rene Cloeric that's all folks.
That one character is a diabetic shooting up on insulin is probably a discreet reference to Cocteau's own penchant for drugs.
Naturally critically it was a sitting target and reviled as a calamitous mistake (mainly by people who hadn't actually bothered to see it), but Cocteau actually quite liked it and thought it a considerable improvement on the 1948 version.
The use of friction between two middle-aged to provide the story's driving force is a welcome novelty. The atrocious sound recording simply heightens the theatricality of the piece (a cupboard that loudly creaks opens at inopportune moments is a nice touch); while the framed photographs of the son at different ages liberally scattered about the room provide an ironic commentary on the present events.
The whimsical tone is established at the outset by a tongue-in-disclaimer that the events depicted could only happen abroad. The setting is explicitly identified as Paris, but all but one of the cast speak impeccable English and apart from an obviously painted Sacre Couer seen through the young hero's window and a kitsch accordion score by Rene Cloeric that's all folks.
That one character is a diabetic shooting up on insulin is probably a discreet reference to Cocteau's own penchant for drugs.