I recently re-watched "Last Tango in Paris", my sexual enlightenment film. I bought a VCD at home when I was in elementary school. This disc does not fit in with a lot of Hong Kong films. I will leave it there for me to watch.
From elementary school to junior high school to high school, I don’t know how many times I have fast-forwarded and re-watched it repeatedly, 13 minutes and 34 seconds. I still remember this time now. Pressing it against the wall, I was impressed even by the cheap beige thick pantyhose of the heroine. The moaning from the depths of the throat and the posture of the two made me wonder if they really went in? Finally fell to the floor, parted, emotionless.
I seldom watched the whole movie, especially the infamous butter segment, which made me feel completely unwell. I opened it again two days ago, and I saw the naked man in the title, as if back to adolescence.
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