Last Tango in Paris

1. The Last Tango in Paris (1972)

I know that it's a classic and that Pauline Kael, whom I admire very much, said it was a breakthrough in cinema comparable to the night Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring" ushered in modern music. And I know I'll expose myself as a philistine when I say that this movie left me cold.

Marlon Brando's character was grieving so I should probably cut him some slack, but I can't believe his brutal jerkiness all stemmed from his wife's suicide. I'm no psychologist, but grief doesn't make you suddenly use butter that way. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure Marlon Brando's character wasn't that great to his pre-suicide wife.

(I know that was the point and sure, it's admirable to have such an unsympathetic character, but I still found him, well, unsypathetic.)

But enough people love it so I can't dismiss it. Maybe later in life I'll give it a rave review. (Sort of like the second time I saw Zoolander I thought it was much funnier.)
If cinephiles didn't love it, I'd give it 2 out of 4 stars, but since I'm insecure: 4 out of 4.