Shapely beyond the limits of structural reason, her well-proportioned gluteus maximus seems to hold sway over the entire universe. Dominating the celestial proceedings like a fully illuminated moon on a clear night in Whitehorse, the creased mound of amplified flesh at the centre of this highly erotic undertaking will sit on your face until you give in to its abundant charms. Oh, and don't bother trying to scream for help, as your pathetic cries will no doubt be muffled by the sheer weight of its girthy aplomb. The greatest film about ass appreciation ever produced, Tinto Brass's All Ladies Do It (a.k.a. Così Fan Tutte) is a film that repeatedly tests one's patience for scenes that revolve around the worship and the glorification of an Italian woman's sublime backside. Luckily for me, I'm not mentally ill, and embraced the film's butt-centric point-of-view with a jaunty brand of effervescent ease. Wait a gosh darn minute. Did you just say this was, and I quote, "The greatest film about ass appreciation ever produced"? Yeah, I know what you're thinking, the market is flooded with films–and I use the term "films" rather loosely–that purportedly celebrate asses, how do you know this particular film is the greatest? Well, first of all, those other ass flicks are complete and utter trash, and I don't mean "trash" in an ironic, "Kesha is awesome," sort of way ("hot and dangerous"), they're actual garbage ("stockings ripped up all the side"). And secondly, Tinto Brass (Salon Kitty) seems to be one of the few directors out there who realizes that most genitals aren't equipped with eyes. Understanding that engorgement starts in the mind's eye, Tinto wraps his fetishization of the female caboose in a candy-coloured cloak of pure fabulousness. In other words, he balances the perverted and the aesthetic in a way that keeps both ends of the titillation spectrum happy.
Storming through the doors of her apartment, Diana Bruni (Claudia Koll) is returning home from another night of "happy banging." Walking toward the audience with great fanfare (the music on the soundtrack acknowledges her swagger by giving off an air of feminine bravado), Tinto Brass wastes little time establishing the configuration of the rarefied culo we'll be spending the next ninety or so minutes with, when he follows her into the living room. The fact that he was unafraid to get his camera as close as possible to her bum as she walked toward her destination was very comforting to me. Think about it, we're only five seconds into the picture, and my mind is already at ease. A vision in thigh-high pvc boots, black silk stockings, and a super-short red dress, Diana, who is calling out to her husband Paolo (Paolo Lanza), strips down to her underwear, well, sort of, as she says later in the film, "I'm minus underpants." And her black bra, while giving her the support she needs, is pretty much useless when it comes to providing her with the coverage she needs to go about her day in a non-nipple gawking manner.
Sitting down at her vanity, Diana takes pen to paper. What she's writing about probably involves this Paolo fella, who is nowhere to be found. But never mind that, the focus of the scene seems mainly to be on the engaging contours of Diana's delicious hindquarters. The opening credits haven't even finished yet, and I'm already starting to think that this going to be too much for me. I mean, did they really have to get that close to Claudia Koll's ass sitting on that cushiony stool? The way her garter belt acted as a frame, the sunlight coming in from the window bathing it with its, warm, rejuvenating glow, was probably one the most beautiful things I have ever seen in motion picture. Why doesn't every film, I wondered as she scribbled away, feature a scene where an Italian woman wanders her apartment in lingerie? I'm willing to bet a shitload of money I don't have that if I went down to my local multiplex, none of the many films currently screening there have anything close to the living special effect that is the sight of Claudia Koll wearing nonfunctional lingerie in this particular movie. Talk about your crimes against humanity.
Suddenly, it's night, and we're transported to a swanky rooftop party where a female poet, wearing yet another nonfunctional top (it's only the film's second scene and and we've already had two nonfunctional tops), is reading one of her erotic poems (which, of course, has a woman's ass as its central theme). Boasting the temperament of a commercial for a high-end vodka, this lavish affair seems like it's the place to be, especially for those who are serious about looking fabulous after dark. Standing all alone, Diana, who is wearing a blue top with a black skirt, and a red scarf, is approached by a curly-haired degenerate in a red blazer and asked to dance. How did you know he was a "curly-haired degenerate"? Well, the hairs on his head stood in a manner that created a sort of corkscrew effect, hence, "curly-haired." And the "degenerate" part was even easier to decipher as he had lipstick-covered mouth tattooed on his hand. While they danced, the curly-haired degenerate tells Diana that "the uncertain hairs" on her ass are driving him crazy. While, on the surface, that might not sound like the smoothest line even uttered to convince a woman to give up her anal virginity, it works like a charm on Diana, who is ushering the curly-haired degenerate, whose actually name is Alphonse (Franco Branciaroli), into the ladies lavatory.
Swiveling her hips ever so slightly in order to allow Alphonse to be able to pull down her black lace panties with less difficulty (her glorious rump strangles panties for breakfast), Diana quivers as his booze-laden breath invades her backside's fissure. After he's finished mock-tasting its surface with his tongue, Alphonse prepares to take his appreciation to a more internal plane of existence with the aid of another, more far-reaching appendage. A knock at the door stymies his plans to rectally penetrate Diana, as Paolo, her husband, tells her (through the door) that he wants to go home. Wondering why her pussy is so moist during the car ride home (it's quite common for men in Italy to physically check the barometric pressure of their wife's vagina every couple of hours), Diana tells him she's wet down there because she was just about to engage in anal sex–you know, before she was rudely interrupted by yours truly–with a curly-haired degenerate she met at the party.
Now, you'd think this would be the point in All Ladies Do It when Paolo freaks out. I mean, how would you react if someone you love told you that they almost had restroom-quality anal intercourse right under your nose with some creep in a red blazer? But he doesn't, freak out, that is. You see, the reason Paolo doesn't go ape shit over this revelation is because he thinks Diana is making up these salacious scenarios, like her washroom encounter with Alphonse, for the benefit of his fanciful penis. We all know this is not case, and continue to watch him get turned on by his wife's "wild fantasies."
Blissfully unaware that their relationship isn't what it seems, the two go about their day as they usually would. Since no-one cares what Paolo does for a living (his best quality, besides being married to Diana, is his taste in alarm clocks), we follow Diana to work. While riding the trolley, she must contend with the raging trouser bulges of the two arguing Italian men that keep jabbing their clothed erections into her ass and thighs (the erratic movement of the trolley causes the passengers to become easily jostled). Tired of being repeatedly dry humped by this two-pronged schlong bombardment, Diana decides to stand somewhere else. Which, if you think about it, is futile, since sexual arousal seems to accompany Diana wherever she goes (a young priest is the next to feel his pants tighten around the crotch area).
Arriving at the lingerie shop... Okay, time out. You mean to tell me that Diana works at a lingerie shop? Are you fucking kidding me? What are you trying do, kill me? All right, if that's the way you want it. Awash with thongs of every shade imaginable, Diana changes into something a little more comfortable (a pink robe that matched the shop's carpet) and prepares for another day in this pervert's paradise. Handed a porno tape called "Atom Bum" by Antonietta (Isabella Deiana), a coquettish co-worker (her pubic hair doesn't even come close to matching the shop's carpet), the two playfully chat about relationships and anal sex. A customer named Miss Tomasina interrupts them and asks to try on a pair of red panties. But don't worry, Miss Tomasina, on top of being a first-class milf ("sick and sexy-fied"), is also an excellent multi-tasker and gives Diana relationship advice ("its not betrayal, it's just sex") while slipping in and out of red panties (she ends up buying ten pairs).
I'm kind of glad Nadia (Ornella Marcucci), Diana's gym-owning best friend, shows up to break the news that her Aunt has died, because I don't think I could take much more of that lingerie shop. Of course, I'm not saying I'm glad her Aunt died, as she seemed, as we'll find out later, to be a pretty cool chick, it's just that I was starting to a feel a little woozy. Anyway, it's time to go Venice and attend the reading of her will. Damn, can't this woman go anywhere without hitting on dudes...hard (she offers a million lire to a couple of male train passengers to fuck her in the ass).
After inheriting her Aunt's apartment, Diana, well, first she makes out with her cousin Marco, but after she's finished doing that, she checks out her new digs. This is when All Ladies Do It really starts to break out of its shell and become the erotic classic we all know and love. You wouldn't think this would be the case–you know, since it simply features an attractive Italian woman poking around her dead Aunt's apartment. But you haven't lived until you have watched Claudia Koll try on hats and light cigarettes in an apartment that is bathed in Venetian moonlight. Resembling a stylish film noir at times (the luminous Koll looked like a femme fatal in her red gloves and wide-brim hat), Diana puts on her Aunt's fur and heads over the Alphonse's place for a quick booty call. Hoping to lose her anal virginity, Diana heads up to his "bum room," a veritable shrine to the female posterior (there are literally butts everywhere), and prepares her rump to be violated. Telling her that every ass is different, Alphonse shows her pictures of asses that are timid, brave, happy, stupid, clever, and intelligent, and then sticks his penis inside her headstrong, willful, and disobedient poop chute.
Reunited with her husband in Rome, Diana tells him all about her sinful adventures; the encounter with her cousin, and, of course, her anal deflowering. Discovering a hickey on her neck, Paolo suddenly realizes that Diana isn't making these stories up, they really happened. Well, duh! Will this revelation put the kibosh on their marriage? Who gives a shit; Paolo's a sniveling pratt who doesn't deserve to be with a woman as chic and wonderful as Diana. At any rate, if this movie wasn't awesome enough already, Diana heads down to Nadia's health club to get some advice. And you know what that means? Italian women exercising in spandex leotards!
It gets even better when Nadia and Antonietta take Diana out on the town (forget that Paolo jerk, let's go get us some strange dick). While trolling for prostitutes along trollop road (even the transgender hookers seem to have majestic rears), the girls decide to hit up an outdoor rave. While I don't recall any of the raves I ever attended being this lax when it came to the wearing of pants (if I remember correctly, the lower half of a hazmat suit covered in stuffed animals seemed to be the hip trouser trend for late 1992), the rave sequence in All Ladies Do It does contain all the quirky trappings that made the early 90s rave scene so awkward yet so memorable at the same time.
If the scenes where Diana wanders around Venice were like flipping through a copy of Italian Vogue circa 1991, then the rave scene's equivalent would have to be the act of perusing a back issue of The Face (the one with Adamski on the cover with his dog immediately springs to mind). Flaccid cocks flapping without a care in the world, twirling pasties, baseball hats with the word "boy" written on them in metallic capital letters, white cut-off overalls, casual transvestism, glow in the dark fanny packs, smart drinks, cellular telephones, and belts made out of compact discs, the sheer amount of fashion blunders present throughout this techno-heavy scene are enough to make your head spin. Nevertheless, Diana manages to transverse this gaudy spectacle with an air of stylish unflappability.
Placing her exquisite derrière on a pedestal, Tinto Brass forces us to love Claudia Koll as Diana, a radiant free spirit whose passion for giggling is only matched by her tendency to flirt with strangers. However, there's no need to force us to do anything of the sort, as Claudia's innate gorgeousness will overwhelm even the most hardened of morons. One of the rare instances where a film actually succeeded at making me feel nostalgic for the early '90s, All Ladies Do It might seem like a superficial lark about one woman's desire to loose her anal virginity, but it's so much more than that. Okay, maybe I wouldn't say it's so much more than that, even though I just did. But if you're tired of crass pornography (especially the kind that have to start with the disclaimer: "no women we're harmed during the making of this film"), and want to see movies that to explore sexuality from a more erotic perspective, than I highly recommend this playful romp.