The Abbé has a little cracked paradise going there at Charenton. The only thing to make him feel less than an earthly saint is his deep erotic longing for a radiant, feisty young laundress named Madeleine played with terrific bosom-heaving spirit by Kate Winslet. Madeleine is as hot for the Abbé as he is for her. But of course, the Abbé must abide by his vows of celibacy. Crazy-making vows indeed.

Kate Winslet as Madeleine

Madeleine, being a young virgin with a lusty imagination, has split affections. There's a handsome stranger on horseback, and of course, there's the Marquis. Not only does she give de Sade some of the kisses he requests, but she also acts as his smuggler, managing to get his naughty prose to the outside world where it is published and sells like fresh tarts.

Those corsets sure were tight!

Eventually, one of his books find its way into the pudgy grasp of Napoléon himself whose first instinct is to execute the author. The Little Emperor calms down and agrees to dispatch the diabolical Doctor Antoine Royer-Collard to use his draconian methods and torture contraptions to "cure" the nasty Marquis. Though we get the word "sadism" from de Sade, it more accurately describes Dr. Royer-Collard who is played with suitably chilled viciousness by Oscar winner Michael Caine; he's a Kenneth W. Starr for the Napoleonic Era.

Michael Caine as Dr. Royer-Collard with
Amelia Warner as his teenage bride Simone

Now the struggle for control ensues between the evil doctor, the humane Abbé and the wild de Sade. The biggest loser is the good Abbé, who, out of fear of losing control at his beloved Charenton, becomes just as repressive as the doctor and all the despots he aims to challenge. When a raucous inmate play composed by de Sade humiliates the doctor for taking a wife young enough to be his granddaughter, the Abbé strikes out against the author, confiscating his quills, ink and paper. Little does he know where this spiral of expression and repression will lead.

The inmates perform de Sade's play

Because Quills is not so much about the sex drive, as it is about the writing drive, the drive to express yourself to the world, the drive not just to write, but to be published. Storytelling, more than sex or violence, is de Sade's all-consuming passion.

He must publish. Even more than he needs a lover, he needs an audience. When the Abbé takes away the Marquis' quills, it doesn't take long before he figures out how to write with a chicken bone and wine on his bedsheets. Madeleine smuggles out the linens and transposes them for the publishers, hungry for his nasty tales. Now, the hapless, furious Abbé removes everything from de Sade's rooms. No more bedsheets, no more nothing but the fancy fraying clothes on his back.

Bloody-Fingered and Proud

So the driven de Sade uses a piece of broken mirror to prick his fingers, then writes with his own blood all over his clothes. His words, now outlawed, take on a mystical quality, especially as he dances across a table surrounded by cheering lunatics. Of course, he can't keep his clothes on for long. When these are taken away, a naked but unbowed de Sade creates an elaborate game of whisper-down-the-lane, speaking his forbidden words into the ears of fellow inmates who pass them down to be transcribed. This turns into a tragic disaster that I won't spoil for you. But I will say that it drives the Abbé farther insane than his mental patients. Here's where he orders de Sade's tongue to be cut out, and yes, we the viewers are treated to the spectacle of Goeffrey Rush's mouth being forced open and his tongue being cut out of his throat with enough special effects wizardry to make it look disgustingly real. Within hours-dying from the loss of blood but refusing to accept censorship--de Sade is using his excrement to write his taboo words upon the walls.

Wearing his latest story written in blood upon his clothes,
De Sade dances before the inmates of Charenton

Gross. But touching. In these scenes, Rush's intense portrayal reminded me of the late great performance artist Bob Flanagan. Like Bob, whose tormentor was his cystic fibrosis, de Sade will not be silenced. And that is what makes this movie a must-see for anyone interested in the outer limits of our First Amendment, in understanding why it is the FIRST Amendment in our Bill of Rights, created by our Founding Fathers at around the time that de Sade was across the sea penning his nasty prose.

Quills is a tough movie to watch, especially for liberals like the poor Abbé who winds up being a more active censor than the evil Dr Royer-Collard. Kind of reminds me of liberals like Bill Rosendahl, Gail Fetzer and John Monahan over at the local West LA offices of Adelphia, doing John J. Rigas' dirty work, though it goes against their better instincts. Like the pathetic Abbé, it's just part of keeping their jobs.

Liberals like the Abbé, in an effort to keep their jobs,
often wind up the worst censors, and hating themselves for it

Actually, I think certain conservatives would rather like the philosophy of the Marquis, especially when he says things like "Has not Nature proved, in giving us the strength necessary to submit them to our desires, that we have the right to do so." (Aline et Valcour) He believes in the right of the aristocrat to wreak havoc on humanity as well as the rest of the earth in order to satisfy his pleasure. Rather like the Bush Family. Or the Rigas Family.

Quills shows clearly how art can arouse the worst sensibilities in violent characters. Of course, these are violent people that could be aroused to kill someone by a passionate reading of the phone book. And the alternative is a culture without art, which is no culture at all. The film kills off one of the most likable characters in a horrific scene that shows clearly that the perpetrator, insane though he is, was inspired by the prose of the Marquis. When confronted, the Marquis takes no responsibility. "What do you want me to do," he asks, "Police my readers as you police me?"

He seems a bit cowardly and bitterly cold. But he is, in fact, correct. How can the artist be responsible for what his art might inspire others to do? If we accept that notion, we must guillotine all the artists. That is what some cultures do.

Is America that kind of culture? Not according to the First Amendment. Sorry, John J. Rigas, sorry Adelphia, but we have freedom of speech, even for the awful likes of the Marquis de Sade. Hey, I'm Mary Poppins compared to the Marquis! I don't even talk about chopping people's heads off, except in the context of a movie review.

Sporadically, Quills gives us a glimpse of pure, lush erotica among the help at Charenton

Speaking of which, Quills is not a perfect movie. It's a bit predictable. I mean, after that guillotine opening, anyone who expects a happy ending must be on Ecstasy. There are a few gaps in the plot. The Doctor is kind of a stock figure and his tolerance of his teenage bride's obsessive reading habit doesn't jive with his controlling nature. The film does shy away from presenting the worst writings of the Marquis, though I'm not sure if that's a bad thing. But I do hate it that this is another movie in which the sexy woman is killed! Then there's the general grossness factor.

I wish there was a little more of this and a little less gore,
but then I liked Henry and June

For me the pleasure of this movie lies in the afterplay, in contemplating its themes. Though I did enjoy its archly ironic denouement where the Doctor winds up publishing the Marquis' books. Solely for money, of course. As time strides on, the censors themselves begin to publish the works they once censored, even if only for their own hypocritical, commercial ends. Of course, the Marquis wouldn't mind, just as long as he gets published.

And so the Word gets out. The forces of censorship never win, John J. Rigas. The Word must be spoken. Art must be expressed. Censorship never wins, but it takes a lot of good people down-people like the Abbé Coulmier.

The Mighty Quill

"These principles and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of the persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart." The Marquis de Sade

BOOKS BY THE MARQUIS DE SADE

Justine

Juliette, Her Sister

120 Days of Sodom

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