The cultural pendulum of Western society has swung dramatically over the past half-century. Where the 1970s were characterised by a marked, almost defiant relaxation of sexual mores—a time when the boundaries of propriety were blurred in the name of liberation—the intervening decades have seen a regression toward a more censorious, risk-averse puritanism. This shift makes films from that bygone era fascinating artefacts, offering a window into a world where the line between celebrity, statecraft, and sin was not only blurred but non-existent. Madame Claude, the 1977 quasi-biopic directed by Just Jaeckin, captured this zeitgeist perfectly by weaving the real-life scandal of Fernande Grudet—a brothel owner who managed the affairs of global power brokers like JFK and Gaddafi—into a cocktail of political satire and conspiracy thriller. The first film was a ripped-from-the-headlines affair that exploited the outrage of the political establishment. However, its success inevitably led to a sequel, Madame Claude 2 (also distributed in English-speaking territories as Intimate Moments). While the first film attempted to be a serious, albeit stylish, examination of an era, the 1981 follow-up is a far more frivolous exercise, relying less on political intrigue and more on the promise of glossy erotica.
The film sees the return of Madame Claude, now portrayed by famed Canadian actress Alexandra Stewart. In this instalment, she is again entrenched as the matriarch of Paris's most elite escort service, a well-oiled machine that does far more than provide companionship; she facilitates the sale of arms to Argentina and acts as a central node in the French government's network of influence. This symbiotic relationship, which had previously protected her from legal jeopardy, is suddenly jeopardised when Christian (Philippe Baronnet), a photographer for the newspaper Le Cityoen, begins amassing compromising evidence. Christian’s photographs threaten to expose the web of deceit, a risk that the French government is willing to deal with in brutal fashion—leading to an assassination attempt on Madame Claude herself. Unlike the first film, which grappled with the complexities of the Lockheed Affair and high-stakes political blackmail, Madame Claude 2 takes this setup and waters it down significantly. When Claude is shot at while strolling a Parisian boulevard, the urgency of the plot is established, but it is resolved with a thinness that borders on the comedic. The threat is nipped in the bud through the machinations of her loyal attorney, Paul Barton (Bernard Fresson), who engages in negotiations that feel like a standard business transaction rather than a high-stakes thriller.
The script, credited to Lucien Duval and Alex Park, is the film's most significant liability. It is generic in the extreme, lacking the bite and context of the original. The plot feels like a carbon copy of the previous film but significantly thinner, resolved in a manner that borders on a deus ex machina. The primary vehicle for the narrative is the endless chatter between Claude and her attorney. While Fresson brings a gravitas to the proceedings that elevates his performance above the material, the dialogue often drags, serving more as exposition than character development. It is a shame, as the first film succeeded by grounding its eroticism in a cynical world of realpolitik. Here, the satire is largely absent, replaced by a generic conspiracy thriller that never quite takes off.
The core appeal of Madame Claude 2, however, was never the script; it was the promise of soft erotica presented with high production values. In the pre-home video era, these images were considered "spicy," offering a level of sexual explicitness that was titillating for audiences. Today, they would likely barely raise an eyebrow on any mainstream streaming service, yet they retain a bizarre, hypnotic charm. The film attempts to mask its exploitation with a veneer of sophistication by suggesting that the girls are not merely prostitutes but women pursuing their own ambitions. The narrative attempts to justify the girls' service by framing it as a temporary career move to secure loans and financial independence.
We are introduced to a diverse roster of talents in this regard. Celia (Kim Harlow) is an aspiring pop singer; Vanessa (Lena Karlsson) is a cellist; Karine (Lisa Thoresen) is a world traveller; Alexandra (Johanna Perkins) is a corporate executive; and Helen (Dirke Altevogt) is a housewife. This "dual life" trope was a clever way to make the setting feel more relatable and less transactional. Director François Mimet attempts to provide variety in the sexual encounters, ranging from the standard fare of a beach romp between Karine and a young rich Emir (David Jalil) to scenes involving BDSM elements. However, the execution is uneven. Some of the scenes feel genuinely pretentious—most notably a cello playing session that devolves into a lesbian threeway, which attempts to be artistic but ultimately feels clumsy. Similarly, a scene where Kim Harlow pretends to be a psychiatrist's patient, using her confessions to arouse clients, is a classic example of 1970s sleaze that has not aged well. These segments vary wildly in quality, oscillating between uninspired and baffling, and ultimately fail to sustain the viewer's interest.
Adding to the film's dissonance is the soundtrack by Francis Lai, a composer of genuine stature who had contributed such evocative music to the original film. Here, however, his work feels subpar, lacking the emotional resonance that characterised his earlier work. The theme song "I’ll Wait for Love", performed by Kim Harlow, is perhaps the nadir of late 1970s and early 1980s European pop music. It is a track that epitomises all the worst tendencies of the era. The music fails to elevate the scenes, instead serving as a reminder of how dated the film's aesthetic truly is.
Visually, the film is competent, offering a few nice images of 1980s Paris and the exotic locales where the girls are dispatched. However, this is insufficient to save a narrative that feels hollow. Madame Claude 2 represents a clear disappointment when compared to its predecessor. The first film was a fascinating, flawed artefact that captured a specific moment in time; this sequel is a generic cash-in that lacks the directorial vision of Jaeckin and the sharp writing of the original. It could only be recommended to the most nostalgic among the fans of 1970s and 1980s European exploitation cinema, and even then, one must approach it with low expectations.
RATING: 3/10 (+)
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