It is paradoxical that Last Tango in Paris should have had [so much critical] attention directed at its parts: are its sexy scenes sexy? are Brando's monologues heartfelt or phoney? is the scene beside his wife's coffin the best or the worst in the film? was it a mistake to show her face or a masterful stroke? Paradoxical because the real subject of Last Tango is the elusiveness of objects, images, and characters, the difficulty of making emotional connections, the elements of fraudulence and theatricality in everyone's attempt to create his identity for himself and for the world. In all his films Bertolucci seems drawn to a painter's way of presenting the things of the world—the Vuillard interiors of The Conformist, the Magritte-de-Chirico sense of the isolation of open spaces that permeates Spider's Stratagem, the empty rooms filled with distorted figures that Last Tango draws from the...