Because Torsten Barring

May 09, 2013 18:04

I must have pelvic floor muscles made of *steel* by now. Through yoga? Nope. Just Torsten Barring. Fuck Kegel, all I need to do is to see even one frame of A Woman's Face and my bits clench so hard I nearly fall off the bed/sofa/the surface of the earth.

HOW DOES HE DO THAT, THOUGH

I fucking love this movie so much it's not true. It's all the little touches. And the way they've basically constructed Torsten into being the toppiest of all tops (and in a very suave, sensual, romantic, psychologically alluring way) and so fucking sexually overwhelming there's no escape for Anna. Like when he tells the orchestra to play the weaving song and just dances his way to Anna and then claps his hands onto her shoulders like fucking claws and then claims her and oh god, that little condescending leer and nod he does in this bit and of course he has to do the long "ye-e-e-ess" Michael Powell described as being like a puma purring at you:



And it's basically the master come home to take good care of his little girl and to make sure she does everything he tells her to and oh god. "Now, be a good girl for Uncle Torsten and spread your legs, that's it--so I can give you that special kiss, yes, the kiss that's our little secret..."

(I probably should not mention here I still have that AU in my head where the Barring heir is actually a teenaged girl instead of a little boy and there's literally an evil Uncle Torsten and you know where it will lead and oh god--)

Basically, HELP *sobs*

a woman's face, conrad veidt, tmi

Previous post Next post
Up