Boney Kapoor adds Mercedes-Benz V-Class worth up to Rs 1.7 crore to his garage

Film producer Boney Kapoor has expanded his garage with the addition of a premium new vehicle, the Mercedes-Benz V-Class, a model widely known for its emphasis on comfort, space and chauffeur-driven luxury. The acquisition reflects a growing preference among film personalities for high-end multi-purpose vehicles designed to double as mobile work and relaxation spaces. A luxury MPV designed for comfort and privacy The Mercedes-Benz V-Class is often described as a private lounge on wheels because of its spacious cabin layout and executive-focused interiors. It is especially popular among celebrities and business leaders who rely on chauffeur-driven travel and require both comfort and discretion during commutes. In India, the vehicle is available in multiple variants, with prices typically ranging between Rs 1.4 crore and Rs 1.7 crore depending on specifications and customization options. Premium interiors with executive seating One of the defining highlights of the V-Class is its six-s...

Last Tango in Paris at 50: Bertolucci’s controversial drama remains troubling

The Italian director’s knotty drama remains a provocation, a film filled with lyrical beauty but also repulsive cruelty

Revisiting films on the occasion of major anniversaries can be a disorienting reminder of time’s too-swift passage: that film is now 20/30/40 years old? How can that be? Why does it still feel so much younger than I do? In other cases, however, the film wears its advanced age in a way that makes complete sense, and so it is with Last Tango in Paris, released in cinemas in 1973. Now a half-century old, Bernardo Bertolucci’s lightning rod for scandal and debate has dated in many of the ways you might expect, but that’s not quite what I mean: at 50, the film’s age has now caught up with the overriding air of middle-aged despair and disarray that it always carried. In a sense, it was a film made to be forgotten, and then remembered with bittersweet, conflicted feelings, its significant beauty curdled over time.

Bring up Last Tango in Paris in cinephile circles today – especially those reckoning with the gender politics of the artform post-MeToo – and you won’t hear that many fond endorsements. When it’s brought up at all, the conversation swiftly narrows to its most notorious scene: the one where Marlon Brando’s Paul, a recently widowed American abroad, holed up in a desolately furnished Parisian apartment, forces himself on Maria Schneider’s Jeanne, a 20-year-old ingenue whose name he refuses to learn. Grabbing a dab of fridge-cold butter for lubrication, he anally rapes her.

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