Review: Cy Endfield’s Fictionalized Biography De Sade on Kino Lorber Blu-ray

De Sade is a flawed yet fascinating attempt to penetrate into the headspace of the Marquis de Sade.

De SadePeter Brook’s 1967 film adaptation of Peter Weiss’s Marat/Sade opened the floodgates for an entire subgenre of films that either portray to varying degrees the life and times of the Marquis de Sade or else adapt, usually with considerable latitude, some of his more notorious works. One of the first to jump on the bandwagon was American International Pictures’s De Sade, directed by Cy Enfield—at least until he took sick and had to be replaced by studio stalwart Roger Corman—and written by novelist Richard Matheson, who scripted AIP’s earlier cycle of Poe adaptations. Among the film’s key contributions to the de Sade trend is that, whereas the Brook film takes a cold and clinical approach to the material, De Sade uses a freewheeling, nonlinear style punctuated by timely psychedelic effects and surreal sequences.

The number eight practically presides over De Sade. We first see the number hanging as a crest at the chateau approached by an older de Sade (Keir Dullea) in the opening scene. It appears later as a pendant worn around his neck, and toward the end of the film, we’re told by a gypsy fortuneteller that it represents infinity, the figure of the snake swallowing its own tail. The structure of De Sade is equally serpentine, shuttling in often startling ways between various points in de Sade’s life, and between realistic scenes and those taking place on a stage in the chateau. Not surprisingly, we see the figure eight again at the end of the film, which reprises footage from the opening, thus coming full circle in a sort of infinite loop.

Given this sort of formal playfulness, perhaps we shouldn’t expect much in the way of accuracy when it comes to de Sade’s life, especially since the opening title card doesn’t even get his birth name right. But, in fact, the film lays out all the major bullet points of his existence. There’s his upbringing by a corrupt uncle, the Abbé de Sade (John Huston), who introduces him to the pleasures and pain of corporal punishment; his marriage to a woman, Renée de Montreuil (Anna Massey), whom he doesn’t love; and his periodic imprisonments, both literal and figurative, that are orchestrated by his mother-in-law, Madame de Montreuil (Lilli Palmer). Then again, the film grows fanciful by proposing de Sade’s protracted pursuit of his sister-in-law, Anne (Senta Berger), as a quest for true love that might help him change his sadist ways. In fact, de Sade took Anne as a lover not long after his wedding.

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De Sade also distances itself from the typical period biopic is in its sexual content. Though tame by today’s standards, the film was rated X on its release, and that’s entirely due to a profusion of bared bosoms, a few raucous orgies, and some light S&M. But the sex isn’t there simply for exploitation’s sake. De Sade is an earnest attempt to delve into what made the Divine Marquis tick, and so inevitably the sexual side of his experiences must be given full shrift. It was, after all, from this crucible that de Sade extracted his life’s philosophy. De Sade thus aligns itself nicely with the work of Ken Russell, who, time and again in his films, explored the sexual peccadilloes of famous artists in a flamboyant and often surreal fashion.

Due to the piecemeal manner of its making, De Sade doesn’t always stick its landings. Certain sequences seem fully realized, like a ferocious scene between de Sade and Rose Keller (Uta Levka), a hired woman whom he abuses horribly. Others appear merely sketched in. One area that the film mostly fails to touch upon is de Sade’s relationship to the French Revolution, save for one quasi-symbolic scene where he and his cohorts systematically demolish his own chateau. Instead, the tricksy narrative ultimately proves to be the ruminations of a dying man to a ministering nun (Barboura Morris), thereby allowing the emphasis the land on de Sade as rueful philosopher. How accurate a representation this is of the man who declared “Let my blood be the first shed in the cause of atheism!” remains a matter of subjective assessment.

Image/Sound

Kino’s 1080p HD transfer of De Sade looks robust most of the time. Colors are vivid, details are by and large rendered with depth and clarity, and blacks look uncrushed. But grain levels can get pretty thick, especially in the opening and closing shots, where some added diffusion also compromises the image quality. Not to mention, there’s frequent speckling and other damage apparent in the source materials. Audio is a sturdy Master Audio two-channel mono mix that cleanly delivers the dialogue and foregrounds Billy Strange’s psych and strings score.

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Extras

The major extra here is another impeccably researched and organized track from novelist and critic Tim Lucas, who provides a lot of fascinating information on the backgrounds of the cast and crew, the filming locations in Germany, as well as de Sade’s factual biography. Lucas also proves adept at parsing the respective contributions of director Cy Endfield and uncredited director Roger Corman. Also included is a very brief interview from 2001 with screenwriter Richard Matheson, who discusses his approach to storytelling, his researches into the life and times of de Sade, his ideas on death and the afterlife (witness What Dreams May Come), and the changes made to his script during shooting and post-production.

Overall

Cy Endfield’s De Sade is a flawed yet fascinating attempt to penetrate into the headspace of the Marquis de Sade.

Score: 
 Cast: Keir Dullea, Senta Berger, Lilli Palmer, Anna Massey, Sonja Ziemann, Christiane Krüger, Uta Levka  Director: Cy Endfield  Screenwriter: Richard Matheson  Distributor: Kino Lorber  Running Time: 104 min  Rating: NR  Year: 1969  Release Date: May 17, 2022  Buy: Video

Budd Wilkins

Budd Wilkins's writing has appeared in Film Journal International and Video Watchdog. He is a member of the Online Film Critics Society.

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