Young Timmy starts as a window cleaner in the little company of his brother. Soon he learns that some female customers expect additional service. Young and curious as he is, he reluctantly ... See full summary »
Young Timmy starts as a window cleaner in the little company of his brother. Soon he learns that some female customers expect additional service. Young and curious as he is, he reluctantly accepts the juicy duty. However his heart belongs to Liz, who demands the highest commitment until she lets him go all the way. Written by
Tom Zoerner <Tom.Zoerner@informatik.uni-erlangen.de>
The case against this movie hardly needs to be restated. Clunking, crass, monotonously unfunny, it's the sort of film that gives sexism a bad name.
And yet, for those who grew up in England in the early 70s, Confessions of A Window Cleaner is horribly evocative. The endless shots of tacky, dismal streets; the unwelcoming, tawdry interiors; the overwhelming sense of an exhausted gene pool; yep, that's what it was like. The film has some of the impact (though none of the accomplishment) of the photographs of Tony Ray-Jones, and promotes a similar melancholy.
Then there's Robin Askwith, who despite the various old troupers is the best thing in the movie. Granted, he wasn't everyone's idea of a sex god, and here he's at the mercy of a dire screenplay, but he gives it everything he's got. Looking and acting younger than his years, and with a cocky animality that no amount of boxy denim can mask, he sums up one particular breed of 70s boy, spunky, clueless, candid, vital, uncrushable. He looks great in his nude scenes, taut and doggy - there are moments of real beauty which belong in a better film. His sheer physical presence makes this awful picture almost worth watching.
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