Wet Woman In The Wind

In an era where hardcore porn runs rampant through every phone on the planet, Wet Woman In The Wind stands as an excellent showcase of the power of classic cinematic erotica. This is how they did erotica in the 60s, when the buttons on the shirt were getting ready to burst, as well as how they did it in the 70s, when the buttons flew off forever. It is in this later age that we can really see how the old school erotic formula is still so effective in comparison to flat-out porn.

While porn is a recorded sex act that is reacted to subjectively over appearance and angles, erotica is an atmosphere of sexual tension that draws the audience into a drawn-out yearning. In erotica, who is having sex or even what they look like naked is usurped by the tension over when they will finally have sex. Even with making sure the audience sees some kind of graphic sexual encounter every 10 minutes, Shiota still manages to keep the audience’s eyes on the thighs to come.

Yuki Mamiya shares an intimate moment while holding an apple in Akihiko Shiota’s Wet Woman in the Wind.

“Wet Woman In The Wind will suck the viewer in with the force of a sex tornado over the naked plains.”

This is a much different effect than porn, which is more about instant gratification. It is a case of scenario versus spectacle, anticipation versus perspiration, tiramisu versus Twinkies. So when the over-10-minute sexual climax arrives, it really is a case of getting there is half the fun.

What impressed me about Wet Woman In The Wind, besides one of the best titles you could ever hope to see on a marquee, was the complexity that Shiota injects into the minimalist storyline. The beginning of the movie almost plays like Samuel Beckett’s take on a spanker, with a Waiting For Godot vibe of mystery over who everyone is and where the hell they are. As additional layers are revealed, what had the depth of a roadrunner cartoon becomes a fully fleshed-out drama with backstories and perception-changing details. The director also uses several long takes, which allow the actors to fully inhabit their performances, whether dressed or not. There is also a lot of direct manipulation with expectations, with Shiota taking time to downright torture the viewer at times. There is a scene right before a major sexual encounter where Shiota drags his feet intentionally, even threatening to run the whole delaying scene all over again, just to frustrate us. It is times like this in the movie that you realize just how sucked in you are by what is going on. And trust me, despite the bare bones production design and lack of flashy elements, Wet Woman In The Wind will suck the viewer in with the force of a sex tornado over the naked plains. Bring a towel.