Weird Wednesdays: The Duke of Burgundy

This screening was part of the Alamo Drafthouse’s Weird Wednesday series. For upcoming shows, click here.

“Oh, if we could all just say ‘pinastri’ to end our torments.”

Peter Strickland’s Duke of Burgundy examines the give and take of love through the prism of kink, and how even in the context of a sapphic dom-sub relationship, power dynamics can ever shift between two people. The film ultimately becomes a touching one about varying expressions of affection, and how lovers can find balance in their pleasure and pain to create space for each party’s wants and needs. 

Sidse Babett Knudsen and Chiara D’Anna lead the feature as Evelyn and Cynthia, a lesbian couple who engage in BDSM via an ongoing maid and mistress scenario. The setting is adjacent to our reality, taking place within a lesbian-populated entomology research collective. When not seen at home, Cynthia and Evelyn attend presentations from other bug researchers. The couple’s safe word is pinastri, referring to the latin name for the pine hawk moth, which becomes a motif throughout the film.  Not a single man appears on-screen in The Duke of Burgundy, allowing this story to play out in a strictly feminine realm. The design of the film is a bit twee with whimsical flourishes, similar to another BDSM romance film, Secretary. Add in lots of images of moths and butterflies, and we’re taken to a surprisingly more enchanted place for this story. 

The film begins with Evelyn assuming the role of a maid and cleaning the house under Cynthia’s firm hand. However, the story makes its first transformation with an effective change of the point-of-view, displaying the varying experiences of Evelyn and Cynthia in the opening scene. Cynthia’s stoic dominance is on display from Evelyn’s perspective as she sets about cleaning the study and washing her mistress’ underwear. The veneer falls when we stay with her, revealing the hesitation behind every action.

There’s humor in the way Cynthia and Evelyn’s BDSM routine becomes rote, and in this way it becomes a typical relationship drama. The excitement they would normally derive from punishment, chastisement, and debasement can no longer be inspired due to the expected, habitual nature of their dynamic. The pleasure of pissing in someone’s mouth as a form of pre-ordained punishment is lessened by about the tenth time. It becomes similar to any other couple’s lifeless routine, and like any other long term couple, Cynthia and Evelyn seek ways to break out of their stale sex life. 

As expected from a film with credit for the person who curated all of the perfumes for the set, The Duke of Burgundy’s sensuality stems from its focus on the sensorial, namely texture. While we can’t smell the fragrances the actors wear, we can see and nearly feel each fabric and surface on the screen: silk, lace, nylon stockings, moth wings, leather boots, sudsy water, skin. It’s enchanting the way these all interact in front of our very eyes, and elevates the eroticism of each scene. Even if piss play doesn’t get you going, there are plenty of other erotic entrances into The Duke of Burgundy. 

The story begins to get even more interesting as it becomes apparent that Cynthia—who by all accounts is the dom—is revealed to not be the one in control, but Evelyn is, mostly through detailed notes which delegate how she should be punished and when. The sub is the one calling the shots, determining what her mistress should wear, how she should carry herself, and how long punishments should go on for. It becomes clear that Cynthia’s heart is not in it, and she’s putting on this performance for Evelyn’s own pleasure, and desperately wants to satiate her partner’s need for degradation. So much humor lies in Cynthia’s trepidation and Evelyn’s impatience, such as when the latter gets tired of waiting for the former to find her slacking while scrubbing her boots, and knocks on the door to get Cynthia to notice and dole out punishment right away. One of Evelyn’s most biting statements comes when she tells her partner: "It would be nice if you did it without having to be asked."

But Evelyn becomes quite demanding, placing more and more pressure on Cynthia to up the stakes on her domination as an expression of her love, and lashes out at Cynthia when she does not carry out her duties to the fullest extent. The Duke of Burgundy transforms once again with a set of dizzying visual sequences that bring the film to a dreamlike, psychedelic realm. These intensify the disembodiment of Cynthia, and further bring her anxieties about her relationship to life. 

Watching The Duke of Burgundy makes you realize: being a dominatrix is grueling work, especially when you have a particular, bratty sub. The dynamic becomes a full time job for Cynthia to maintain, and eventually the two don’t even share a bed at the end of the day, as Evelyn prefers being literally locked inside of a box on the other side of the bedroom. Their evenings used to be spent locked in tender embraces in bed together, allowing Cynthia to express her loving nature more openly and fulfill the need for tenderness in their relationship. The emotional distance growing between the two becomes physical, leaving Cynthia even further isolated from her romantic partner, and more adrift in her supposed domination. 

Knudsen is nothing short of riveting as Cynthia, maneuvering a very difficult emotional affection in a way that’s so touching and grounded. Though subtle, everything rests on her transforming facial expressions, which effectively communicate the humor of the scenes and her growing resentment. She reveals so much about her character by saying very little (all in all, the dialogue in the film is relatively sparse), expressing her unease, frustration, discomfort, and devotion. When she breaks down while going through the same old script Evelyn has given her, a well of sympathy bursts open for her, as it’s obvious that in this dynamic of pleasure and pain, she’s the one hurting. 

However, the couple sets about starting anew. With a changing of the season, Cynthia and Evelyn’s relationship shifts as well. The Duke of Burgundy remains a story about balance, with the cycle of tenderness eventually concluding and the BDSM one starting anew. 

Everything’s presented with deep sympathy and romanticism, as Strickland handles this sapphic love story with nuance, without a sense of judgement toward Cynthia or Evelyn and a care for both of their sexual and emotional needs. It’s ultimately a hopeful film, with room for each person to share themselves fully with their counterpart, to be seen, and to be loved accordingly. 

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