A dry sense of humour runs through the film throwing into relief the build-up of muted hysteria that culminates in a genuinely shocking denouement. Yet, rather than spin a yarn, Coppola has created a film more about mood than substance, evoking the girls' sexual awakening with rich hues of yellow, gold and red and stunning visuals - especially a gorgeous dream-like sequence where the sisters frolic in a sun-kissed field of corn - complemented perfectly by a dreamily ethereal score by the French band Air. But these are no ordinary teen whims, as we see when, early on, the youngest sister, Cecilia, unsuccessfully slits her wrists in the bath, so setting in motion the tragic, inexorable breakdown of the family. Plotwise, The Virgin Suicides is very slight: born into a repressive, religious household, a brood of gorgeous, mysterious girls, banned from dating, parties and movies, have gone a bit bonkers - from permanently wearing a wedding dress to frenziedly flirting with anything in trousers. Adapted from Jeffrey Eugenides' critically admired 1993 novel by Francis Coppola's daughter Sofia, this sultry tale of the five Lisbon sisters drowning in the sea of emotions that is adolescence, and the local boys they captivate, is a sultry, heady treat that, if not quite capturing the book's erotic intensity, certainly comes close.
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