Quite a lot of fuss has been made in the media about the English translation of this film's title, namely, the fact that it is (apparently) a poor rendition of an original French euphemism for a woman's pubic hair. Gazon maudit, I believe, means 'forbidden lawn' - which may be translated quite inaccurately back to Le Minge Interdit. This, however, is what happens when a phrase in one language relating to an abstract concept is transplanted into another culture and loses its meaning and relevance en route, thus requiring the services of the film distributor's copywriters in thinking up some witty and inoffensive alternative.

I can see their point in this case. Sort of. I mean, 'Forbidden Lawn' is meaningless both to the English-speaking world and to the French. Then again, unless I am mistaken, 'French twist' is American terminology for some kind of hairstyle or croissant-type thing and not at all a common expression in the UK - which makes the witty translation somewhat redundant in this particular neck of the woods. I suppose they could have chosen a more regionally appropriate title such as 'Hairy Pie' or 'Pussy Galore' but both of these are vaguely offensive and have culture-bound sexual connotations that would make the film sound like a cheesy porn video (like those found locally on the shelves of Mr Patel's 24-hour chemist / grocery /video emporium, next to the six-week-old pints of milk).

Actually, the latter title suggestion is probably not so inaccurate as it is my understanding that Victoria Abril spends much of the film's duration absolutely stark cajones naked. Nude. Dishabille. Now, speaking as a full blooded hetero/lesbian, this thought creates a frisson of excitement in me and brings to mind Ms Abril's unforgettable bath scene in Almodovar's 'Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down' - the English translation of 'Atame!' (a word worryingly absent from my Collins Spanish Dictionary) - in which the actress is shown, quite explicitly I may add, 'enjoying' the attentions of a small toy scuba diver while she carries out her ablutions. It is without doubt the most erotic scene in any film in the whole history of the world. Er, if you like that sort of thing.

Anyway, for the record, 'French Twist' it seems belongs to the menage a trois, bizarre love triangle genre and probably involves a fair amount of 'whoops vicar there go my trousers'-type humour, doused in lashings of harmless, un-self conscious Euronudity, and topped with the oh-so heart-warming whipped cream of human kindness. (Pass the sick bag, Matron).

Incidentally, 'French Twist's director / star, Josiane Balasko also appeared in the awful 1989 French movie 'Trop Belle Pour Toi' which translates somewhat ridiculously as 'Too Beautiful For You' and in which lumpen frog Gerard Depardieu leaves the exquisitely beautiful Carole Bouquet (an improbable pairing at the outset) for his dowdy secretary. A preposterous scenario - until you think of a certain third-rate antipodean rock star, a supermodel and an (allegedly) odious old slag who graced the covers of the tabloids not so very long ago. Sacre Bleu! (i.e., 'Holy Blue' - whatever the hell that means). 9 out of 10

APOLOGY

Before you get your knickers in a 'gazon maudit', yes, I know there is no film entitled 'Apology' and no, this is not an apology for anything I have written in the past. There are no mitigating circumstances and I make no apologies for the facile claptrap and uninformed opinions that make up this pathetic excuse for a column (Micromedia do that in any case, for legal reasons I presume).

I am, however, apologising for my total inability to compose anything vaguely interesting about any film this week other than the one found above. To be quite honest, after the rich pickings of previous weeks ('Heat', 'Casino', 'Trainspotting') I seem to have stumbled upon something approaching 'writer's block', arising from a complete sense of apathy towards the films currently on general release.

Now, I hear you say 'who cares - because you never see the films you write about in any case'. Well, this is not strictly true. Of course I do not see them before I review them; that, after all, is the whole point of Lawrence Spindle's Movie Corner. I review expectations rather than films or responses to films; expectations based on advertising, hearsay, preconceptions, prejudices and bias (mostly my own. Obviously). And the viewer is left to make up his or her own mind. That, I believe, is how real life should work.

But most of the time, I really am interested in the films themselves - even if they are meretricious rubbish - and I do actually end up seeing them. For better or worse. 'Most of the time', I say, because on this particular occasion I can think of nothing particularly interesting, entertaining or informative to write about 'Sense and Sensibility', 'Underground', 'Ulysses' 'Gaze' or 'Toy Story'. Oh yes, Harvey Keitel does not appear in any of them. (Apart from 'Ulysses' Gaze'.)

With any luck, normal service should be resumed in a couple of weeks' time. Then again, I may find myself once more cast adrift in the celluloid doldrums, waiting in vain for a gust of critical wind to carry the good ship Lawrence Spindle back to the choppy high seas of etc. etc.

Speaking of critical wind, I shall at some time in the near future be considering the merits (or otherwise) of the various gimps who have elected themselves into their present positions as Arbiters of Cinematic Good Taste - including Barry Norman (whose initials, funnily enough, stand for 'Brown Nose') and 'Time Out's' very own, Geoff Andrew: wine connoisseur, aficionado of film and unbelievably pompous wanker to boot. Until then, however, my own futile ramblings will have to suffice - even if they are not worth the paper they are not written on. Look, I too may be a crap film critic - but at least I admit it. Besides, I'm cheap (well, free actually). 0 out 10 (for effort)

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