Poor Boro, I Knew Him Well …
This is the sorry tale of one cinephile’s descent into the underworld. In a mere few years, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, he slid from dutifully attending stately Melbourne arthouses like the Longford and the Rivoli to frequenting sordid porn barns with names like the Barrel, the Shaft and the Blue Bijou.
I confess. That cinephile is me. But it was all for the sake of tracking an elusive, enigmatic and remarkable filmmaker named Walerian Borowczyk (1923-2006).
few years, Phillip Adams writes a column reminding us that he was the solitary,
early champion of a now supposedly forgotten Borowczyk movie, Goto,
In the 1950s and ‘60s, Borowczyk achieved fame as an innovative and experimental animator, collaborating with the likes of Jan Lenica and Chris Marker. Dom (1958), Les Jeux des anges (1964) and the series of works devoted to the Théâtre de Monsieur et Madame Kabal are among the works that inspired later filmmakers including the Brothers Quay and Jan Svankmajer.
Borowczyk’s often disquieting, perverse and characteristically Eastern European vision delighted in giving ghostly life to the strange, inanimate objects he so lovingly collected. (His 1973 short A Particular Collection offers a guided tour to his personal museum of antique sex aids and erotic toys.) He elaborated a form of Surrealism in which an over-rational, controlling society collided with the irrational force of human desire.
is the story played out in Goto,
Serious critics acclaimed his idiosyncratic sense of architecture and design, his fondness for the wordless acting styles of the silent era, and his unbeatable eye for arresting, mysterious images.
But then something calamitous happened. Eroticism had always been present as a driving element in Borowczyk’s work. But suddenly he steeped himself in the production of what seemed to be full-out sex-films.
In the era of erotic chic, alongside notoriously popular movies like Emmanuelle (1974) and The Story of O (1975), Borowczyk signed such lush flesh-feasts as Immoral Tales (1974), The Beast (1975) and The Margin (aka The Streetwalker, 1976).
his diehard fans, these films continued Borowczyk’s artistic journey in every
As Borowczyk became more prolific, his work became much harder to see. Expelled from the arthouses, it fell into the porn circuit, in those long-lost, pre-video days when porn houses still projected actual celluloid. (Cue some possibly misplaced and most definitely perverse Boogie Nights-style nostalgia here.)
last one I managed to catch on a big screen, amid the raincoat brigade at the
Shaft, was Three Immoral Women (1979) – which I gamely defended in the pages of
RMIT’s student newspaper Catalyst, at
the age of
Alas, no one seemed to paying attention. Daily reviewers, Film Festival programmers and cinema theorists alike had turned their gaze in shame and disapproval away from Borowczyk. Even the French magazine Positif, once a loyal supporter of the filmmaker, began a capsule review of Emmanuelle 5 (1987) with the lament: “Poor Boro … “
By then, Borowczyk had become an auteur one occasionally found in the darkened, erotica section of large video shops, represented by magnificently delirious films like Dr Jekyll and His Women (1981).
But, in his old age, Borowczyk perhaps took solace in the fact that his star arose once more. The global market in video and DVD, plus the rising interest in cult video through specialist fan publications and Internet sites, at last created the conditions for a Boro revival.
Scott Murray, filmmaker and once editor of Cinema Papers, has such a high regard for Borowczyk that it has led him to write an as-yet-unpublished book-length study of the films titled Heroines of Desire. As I can well testify, making the effort to see Boro’s Behind Convent Walls (1977) at the Barrel can lead even the most genteel cinephile to the most flagrant declarations of amour fou.
© Adrian Martin July 2002