Walerian Borowczyk, the Polish-born filmmaker often overshadowed by his contemporary Roman Polanski, crafted in Immoral Tales a work that defies easy categorization. Is it pornography? Art film? A surrealist essay on desire and power? The answer, frustratingly and brilliantly, is all of the above. The film’s title is a provocation, but also a promise: these are not mere sex scenes, but —morality tales told in reverse.
Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5) – A sumptuous, shocking, and strangely philosophical gallery of erotic obsessions. immoral tales
The first two episodes feel like sketches or exercises. The Tide is lovely but slight. Thérèse is playful but drags its joke. The film truly awakens only with the brutal 30-minute centerpiece of Erzsebet Bathory . The final Lucrezia is beautiful but so abstract it risks losing the viewer entirely. You sense Borowczyk was less interested in narrative than in creating four distinct "rooms" of desire. A surrealist essay on desire and power
Immoral Tales is a flawed masterpiece—a diamond that is also a razor blade. Borowczyk asks: What if morality is just a story we tell ourselves to hide what we really want? He doesn't answer. He simply shows you the question, carved in flesh and blood. Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5) – A sumptuous, shocking, and
Paloma Picasso’s terrifying, silent queen. The blood-bath scene, which will never leave your memory. The feeling that you are glimpsing something truly forbidden—not because it is pornographic, but because it is honest.
Not for the casual viewer. If you seek soft-core titillation, the film’s slow, intellectual pace will frustrate you. If you are squeamish about blood or blasphemy, avoid the second half. However, if you admire the cold sensuality of Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut , the transgressive animation of Jan Švankmajer, or the paintings of Balthus, Immoral Tales is a lost treasure.