Philip Kaufman tries to recreate 1931 Paris in much the same way he successfully recreated 1968 Prague in 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being', and with roughly the same ménage-a-trois. But in trying to make lightning strike twice he apparently lost sight of the difference between sexual liberation and self-indulgence, and what was meant (again) to be an uncensored celebration of life and love resembles, here, something not unlike '9½ Weeks' for egghead intellectuals. Perhaps avid Henry Miller fans will appreciate all the highbrow eroticism, but for most of the film the characters do little else except agonize over Art and tell one another what geniuses they each are. Kaufman's luck with casting is unimpaired (Uma Thurmon's June Miller calls to mind Greta Garbo doing an imitation of Mae West), but his direction is almost comically self-conscious, built around a visual scheme of tight, TV screen close-ups and an oh, so naughty depiction of libertine Paris which pales next to Alan Rudolph's similar but more colorful portrait in 'The Moderns'. Posterity will remember the film for its groundbreaking adults only NC-17 rating, a distinction hardly earned by such tame soft-core entertainment.
Review of Henry & June
