Alright, fellow tape travelers, let’s rewind to the late 90s, a time when video store shelves still held surprises beyond the usual Hollywood fare. Sometimes, nestled between the action blockbusters and familiar comedies, you’d find something… different. Something European, maybe a little risqué, with cover art that promised sun-drenched landscapes and a story perhaps not discussed at the family dinner table. Today, we’re popping in a tape that fits that bill perfectly: Tinto Brass’s 1998 offering, Frivolous Lola (or Monella, its punchier Italian title).
If you know the name Tinto Brass, you know you’re not settling in for a quiet night of subtle drama. The Italian maestro of erotic cinema has a style as distinctive and unapologetic as a Fellini dream sequence, albeit one decidedly focused on the female form – particularly, let's be frank, the posterior. Frivolous Lola is pure, unfiltered Brass, a sun-kissed, mischievous romp set in the Po Valley of the 1950s, feeling both nostalgic for that era and utterly characteristic of Brass's late-career output.
A Simple Premise, Brazenly Executed
The story itself is gossamer-thin, serving primarily as scaffolding for Brass’s visual preoccupations and Anna Ammirati’s luminous screen presence. Ammirati plays Lola, a young woman on the cusp of marriage to the handsome Masetto (Max Parodi). She’s deeply in love, but there’s a hitch: Masetto holds rather traditional views about pre-marital intimacy. Lola, however, is bursting with curiosity and desire, and she’s not about to walk down the aisle without knowing exactly what she’s getting into (and enjoying it beforehand). This sets Lola off on a determined, often comedic, quest to experience physical love before her wedding night, much to Masetto’s frustration and the audience's voyeuristic amusement.
Anna Ammirati: The Heart of the Mischief
Let's talk about Anna Ammirati. Brass had a knack for finding actresses who could embody his specific blend of innocence and burgeoning sensuality, and Ammirati is captivating as Lola. Plucked from relative obscurity for the role (Brass famously preferred discovering new talent), she radiates a playful energy and a surprising degree of agency, even within the confines of Brass's often objectifying gaze. She’s mischievous, determined, and utterly charming, navigating the film’s comedic and erotic moments with a natural effervescence. It’s her performance that elevates Frivolous Lola beyond mere titillation; you genuinely root for Lola in her cheeky pursuit of experience. Remember how certain European films just felt different on VHS, less polished but somehow more alive? Ammirati’s performance captures that feeling perfectly.
The Brass Touch: Sun, Skin, and Scenery
Tinto Brass, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Carla Cipriani, directs with his trademark visual flair. Forget gritty realism; this is a heightened, almost dreamlike Italy. The cinematography practically sweats summer heat, filled with bright colours, bucolic landscapes near the Po River (a frequent setting for Brass), and, of course, lingering shots framed exactly as Brass preferred. His style is instantly recognizable – the close-ups, the focus on specific anatomy, the way the camera often seems to be an appreciative observer within the scene. It’s a far cry from the slick, desaturated look that became popular later. This feels handmade, tactile, like thumbing through a vintage postcard collection that happens to be rather cheeky.
Interestingly, while Brass is known for pushing boundaries, Frivolous Lola feels somewhat lighter and more comedic than some of his earlier, more controversial works like the infamous Caligula (1979) or the darker themes in The Key (1983). Here, the tone is mostly playful, bordering on farce. The supporting cast, including Patrick Mower as a suave, older Englishman who catches Lola’s eye, adds to the slightly eccentric, village atmosphere. The film doesn't take itself too seriously, inviting the audience to chuckle along with Lola's schemes.
Not Just Skin Deep?
Okay, it's mostly skin deep. But Brass often claimed his films celebrated female liberation through embracing sexuality, a point debated by critics then and now. Lola is driving the narrative, pursuing her own desires rather than passively waiting. Whether this truly translates to empowerment or simply serves the director's voyeuristic tendencies is a discussion probably best had after watching the film. What's undeniable is the film’s sheer confidence in its own particular brand of sensual storytelling, something that felt distinctly European and rather bold on the shelves of your local Blockbuster back in the day.
Finding reliable production details on Brass films can be tricky, but it’s known he often worked with relatively modest budgets compared to Hollywood productions, relying on location shooting and his specific aesthetic choices rather than expensive effects. This likely contributed to the film’s grounded, lived-in feel, despite the heightened reality. It wasn't a massive international hit, finding its audience more among Brass aficionados and the curious browsing the 'Foreign' or 'Adult' sections of video stores, often in slightly edited versions depending on the country.
The Verdict on Lola
Frivolous Lola isn't high art, nor does it pretend to be. It's a Tinto Brass film through and through – sunny, sensual, fixated, and surprisingly good-natured in its naughtiness. If you rented this back in the day, perhaps tucked away under a copy of Die Hard, you knew you were getting something specific. Anna Ammirati is a delight, the Italian scenery is gorgeous, and the whole affair has a charmingly uninhibited quality that feels very much of its time and place.
Rating: 6/10
Justification: The film succeeds entirely on its own specific terms as a light, visually focused erotic comedy in the unmistakable Tinto Brass style. Anna Ammirati's charismatic performance is a major plus, and the sun-drenched Italian atmosphere is effectively captured. It loses points for the paper-thin plot and the repetitive nature of Brass's obsessions, which won't appeal to everyone. It’s well-crafted within its niche, but that niche is admittedly narrow.
Final Take: A vibrant slice of late-90s European erotic cinema, Frivolous Lola is Brass doing what Brass does best – less provocative than his earlier work, perhaps, but overflowing with sunshine, cheeky charm, and a celebration of sensuality that feels both dated and refreshingly direct compared to today's often coy mainstream. A curious time capsule for the adventurous VHS hunter.