Review: My Mistress

A heavily flawed tale of teenage sexual awakening in suburban Queensland, the Australian My Mistress is nonetheless good in some of its particulars, most notably the solid performances from its two leads and, when compared with the sedated heavy breathing of Fifty Shades of Grey, a more sensitive and good-humoured view of BDSM.

Mainstream culture has shackled itself to the Fifty Shades fantasy, but erotic role-playing and sadomasochism are not newcomers to the cinematic landscape. Some examples to wit: Luis Buñuel's 1967 Belle de Jour in which domination, sadomasochism, and bondage populated the fantasies of Catherine Deneuve's housewife; Adrian Lyne's 1987 9 1/2 Weeks, based on Ingeborg Day's true account of her time as a submissive sexual slave ("No decisions were expected of me, I had no responsibilities. I had no choice. I loved it."); 2002's Secretary with James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal embarking on a dominant-submissive romance; and Basic Instinct and all its consequent copycats with their various kinks testing the boundaries of the R-rated film.

The latest figure to set foot on this unconventional playground is Charlie (Harrison Gilbertson), a sixteen-year-old loner who roils with anger, confusion, and frustration after he discovers his father hanging in the garage and, later, his mother having an affair with her husband's best friend. Into Charlie's life teeters Maggie (Emmanuelle Béart), a French beauty of a certain age whose pronounced pout is further emphasised by her vampy red lipstick. He is ensorcelled, even more so when he discovers she is a professional dominatrix.

The two develop a friendship that allows them to play both mother-son and mistress-slave. The former is the weaker of the two as Maggie's attempts to regain custody of her young son, whilst providing background for her character, seem specifically contrived to set up the parent-child parallel. It also strikes one as unnecessary, given that the age difference automatically establishes an association with the Oedipal. The latter, however, is where the relationship between Maggie and Charlie finds the most emotional resonance.

The men seek Maggie's ministrations to escape their private pain and so, too, does Charlie. The whippings are a punishment - Charlie somehow feels responsible for his father's suicide - but they also result in bruises that are visible evidence of the pain trapped inside him. At the other end of the spectrum are the formal tea parties, fetishistically ritualised, with Maggie slapping Charlie with a riding crop for every infraction. The amusement they share in playing the game reminds one that, odd as these games may be, they are games and games are meant to be enjoyed.

Director Stephen Lance and co-screenwriter Gerard Lee (who collaborated with Jane Campion in Sweetie and Top of the Lake) do an admirable job presenting the various tableaux from Maggie's professional life. Fantasies are fantasies, and what is arousing to one man may be amusing to another. Though one can't help but chuckle at some of the role-playing, one never gets the sense that these men are to be laughed at.

On the technical side, the scenes are stylish and well-choreographed with Béart's ripe figure showcased in a procession of fetish outfits designed by Angus Strathie. On the downside, Lance and Lee struggle to find a tonal balance and consistency.

My Mistress

Directed by: Stephen Lance

Written by: Stephen Lance, Gerard Lee

Starring: Emmanuelle Béart, Harrison Gilbertson, Rachael Blake, Socratis Otto