Scent of passion

I’m not a biographer, so I can’t say for sure, but I believe Maurice Ravel wouldn’t have appreciated his most famous composition being plagiarized and, above all, used in a few mediocre erotic scenes in an equally mediocre erotic film from 1991 directed by Pasquale Fanetti.
Then again, who knows—maybe Ravel wrote Bolero with exactly that purpose in mind. But I doubt it. Just like I doubt that this film is actually inspired by a book that always causes confusion and that I won’t even name to avoid getting caught up in that mess of citations and references. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Let’s move on.

Fanetti, most likely—and I’m sure of this—was aiming for elegant, refined eroticism, using classical dance (and plagiarizing Ravel’s Bolero, as mentioned). But we don’t see elegance or dance, except for a couple of uncertain steps performed by the two protagonists.
La Strana Voglia has a plot with no bite, taking important and absurd shortcuts to drag itself to an unintentionally comical ending. Women inexplicably working out topless in a gym, incredibly banal erotic scenes, all serving a story about Jeff (Giancarlo Teodori) and his erotic affair with Celeste (Ángeles López Barea) and Violet played by Malù, who also worked with Fanetti in Malù e l'amante.

Jeff runs a theater—or rather, he’s a scenographer—quite authoritarian and egocentric, insulting his dancers, one of whom, Celeste, he’s involved with. Maybe others too, but as I said at the start: I’m not sure.

One night, he meets a homeless woman on the street (who isn’t really homeless, but that’s how she’s described), Violet (Malù), who for some reason becomes his new project/object of desire.
Jeff, who evidently lives in the theater given the sudden scene changes between stage and living room, teaches Violet everything. He even takes her to his mountain house, for reasons unknown, where he not only shows her the secrets of theater but much more. She dances naked with grace (in performances worthy of Diva Futura erotic shows).
Violet then falls in love with Celeste, giving free rein to the “strange desire” (guess what it is) of the title. This seems to shatter Jeff’s certainties.

Fanetti does everything possible to show us as much nudity as he can, trying to make us forget about plot and dynamics, with the camera shamelessly lingering on the bodies of the two protagonists. Malù, though not in top form, is still a sight to behold, as is Ángeles López Barea, but full nudity isn’t enough to save a boring, poorly made erotic film. Ravel would certainly not approve.