Private Collections (1979)

Private Collections is the kind of 1970s anthology that feels less like a conventional drama-romance and more like a forbidden art book brought to life—three directors, three distinct moods, and a shared fascination with desire as something dreamy, dangerous, and strangely funny. Just Jaeckin gives you sun-drenched, tropical seduction with an undercurrent of unease; Shūji Terayama drifts into hypnotic, surreal coming-of-age reverie; and Walerian Borowczyk closes with a Parisian chamber piece where elegance, suspicion, and erotic theater collide. Even when the material is provocative (and it is, with significant nudity and sexual content), the best moments are carried by striking cinematography, tactile costumes and décor, and performers—especially Laura Gemser—who know how to hold the camera without winking at it. It’s not for viewers looking for subtlety or a traditional love story, but if you’re on the fence and curious about erotic cinema with real visual ambition, this one has a pulpy, art-house allure that’s hard to forget.

Private Collections is clearly aiming for an artsy, provocative anthology where eroticism doubles as fantasy, psychology, and period intrigue, and on paper the three directors should make that a feast. In practice, it plays more like three disconnected mood pieces with wildly different tones, where the erotic content often feels like the main event and the storytelling is left to drift, especially if you’re expecting real drama or romance. The pacing can be languid to the point of sterile, and some twists land as predictable rather than daring, which makes the whole thing feel longer than it is. Still, if you’re specifically into late-70s Euro-erotica with surreal flourishes and don’t need cohesion or emotional payoff, there are striking images and an oddball, arthouse curiosity factor that might be enough.