Critic Reviews

A window into bygone morals and mores.

An independent American art film that seems to be masquerading as Victorian-era pornography--and it's not quite as interesting or provocative as that description might make it sound.

The curiously stylized piece, shot in a muted palette with performances to match (the cast is perhaps too restrained given the theatrical framework), is dramatically colorless, but the moods and moments are crafted with kinky grace.

The director's familiarity with silent cinema enhances the prudish pornographic footage, but when he starts cutting between separate perversions, I began to wonder if he was getting as bored with the material as I was.

Psychopathia Sexualis exists in the gray area between ponderous stylization and campy affectation.

It's a mildly enjoyable romp.

The result is a sepia-toned muddle.

Sex can be fun and exciting and wonderful. It also can be deadly boring, as in Psychopathia Sexu alis.

Drearily pretentious, Sexualis has even less softcore appeal than an American Apparel ad.

Whether in the whorehouse or the sanitarium, Psychopathia Sexualis is an exercise in unrelenting dullness.