Pierre Louy's novel of sadomasochism (the source also for von Sternberg's The Devil Is a Woman and Buñuel's That Obscure Object of Desire) is beautifully adapted: the sophisticated lighting and editing techniques of the late silent cinema are used to effect both the sensuality of the subject, and the precision of Louys who was after all a moralist. Conchita Montenegro is beautiful and spirited as Concha, the Spanish dancer who lures an overconfident aristocrat, Don Mateo (Raymond Destac), into a punishing romance of unfulfilled desire. The film makes use of every detail of its Spanish locale-the narrow streets with their sleepy felines; the ubiquitous grille-work that lets you see but keeps you out, like Conchita herself; the distancing passion of gypsy flamenco music conveyed entirely through rhythmic editing. A shot of Concha dancing naked, wearing only boots, perhaps surprises more today than it would in 1928. In any case, there is always Concha's mother, dueña and procurer, biter of pearls, who sits in the next room, sewing and smiling.