by MATTHEW HAYS

Snap to attention, softcore enthusiasts: legendary Italian filmmaker Bernardo Bertolucci has made a movie just for you!

And here it is, glorious to look at. The setup is simple: In 1968, one beautiful blond Californian (Michael Pitt, who's a better-looking version of Leonardo DiCaprio), on the cusp of adulthood, is setting about Paris to improve his French (which is odd, seeing as he spends virtually the entire movie speaking English). There he marvels at the French commitment to cinema. He spends much of his time watching all of the classics at the French cinémathèque, a temple to the most important art.

He cruises a brother and sister team (Louis Garrel and Eva Green), two sumptuously gorgeous twins, who appear to be in some kind of kinky incestuous bond. It's all very intriguing to our hormone-soaked hero, who is soon boarding with the two of them. They begin to act out the kind of nutty games young people who've seen a few too many films occasionally do. They perform sequences from their favourite movies; they recite snippets of dialogue, testing the others' knowledge of big-screen history; they debate the merits of Chaplin over Keaton (or is it the other way around?). And yes, even Jerry Lewis's genius status is questioned, long a point of diplomatic tension between Yanks and Frogs.

The Dreamers has already gained a great deal of notoriety for its full frontal nudity (men as well as women). Yes, there is nudity in this film, as well as an extended scene in which Garrel whacks off in front of a Marlene Dietrich photo (as his sister kindly tickles his back with a feather duster). It's weird and kinky, and I suppose some of it is risqué by Superbowl half-time show standards, but since I already watch the occasional bit of scrambled porn on cable, I didn't find any of it that shocking or titillating.

As the show goes on, Pitt becomes increasingly frustrated by the mindgames inflicted upon him by Garrel and Green. Green is a great lay, but she goes too far when she and her brother attempt to shave off all of Pitt's pubic hair. What an outrage! Do they mean to make him a little boy? Pitt is too attached to his newly-grown pubic hair to allow anything so emasculating to happen.

Sadly, on the relationship front, this movie doesn't fulfill its promise. Pitt bangs Green, but what about Garrel? Surely Bertolucci knows his threesome algebra? As I understand it, in order to complete the triangle, some full-scale male-on-male action was in order, not just mere flirtation. I felt duly ripped off.

Bertolucci's stylistic flare is evidenced in The Dreamers, but it's not quite enough to save the film. Scenes flicker between our tortured trio and famous old classic film scenes (Jean Seberg and Fred Astaire, among others, make cameo appearances). These were the good old days, Bertolucci appears to be telling us, when politics and movies counted. Instead, this pleasant-looking but rather empty film left me nostalgic for the director's own glory days. Lamentably, this is no Conformist, no Last Tango in Paris.

The Dreamers opens Friday, Feb. 20

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