This is one of the only films I've watched more than four or five times. I love everything about it - Bertolucci's cinematography, the costuming, the music (Hendrix, Dylan, the Stones), the ever-so-bohemian content, the politically charged atmosphere of Paris in 1968...did I mention the costumes?
Insouciant and oh-so-French twins Isabelle and Theo have a relationship bordering on incest, so when American exchange student Michael comes on the scene, all hell breaks loose - in a desperately thoughtful and pseudo-intellectual way, of course.
The apartment they live in is grand, with soaring ceilings and cluttered with books, overflowing ashtrays and bottles of Beaujolais.
In true Bertolucci fashion - this is, after all, the director who instigated Marlon Brando's infamous butter scene in Last Tango in Paris - Isabelle loses her virginity to Michael on the kitchen floor. While her twin brother watches (at the same time as frying an egg).
The twins, and soon, Michael, are fascinated by film - constantly referencing great cinema scenes and actors from Marlene Dietrich, to the scene in Godard's Bande a Part where the trio run through the Louvre.
Best of all, however, is the scene where Michael sees pattern in everything during a family dinner. I love it.
