How have I done sixteen posts in this series without getting to Louis Garrel in Saint Laurent yet? Blasphémer! And instead of going with the usual - meaning the scene at the club where Louis dances and smiles and seduces every goddamn person on the screen and in the audience at once, or to a lesser extent the scene where he and Gaspard Ulliel make out to great affect - instead oh highlighting those stiff used up rags of scenes I figured let's focus in on the film's sleazy centerpiece, the part where he orgies up with Yves.
As it was autobiographically true all of this partying heartily is eventually shown to lead YSL down a destructive path, but man alive does the movie make it clear how easy and seductive and goddamned hot that path can be. Truss Louis up in a leather tank and have him sneer while straddling some rough trade and I dare a single person to find their knees anywhere but weak and wobbling.
In related news this film, one of my favorites of its year by far and one I watch a little bit of whenever I wanna get my knees wobbling again, is on sale for super cheap on Amazon right now - the blu-ray is less than nine bucks! That's a heckuva steal for something so swank, y'all. That's like only a dollar per enticingly straggly mustache hair...