I ALWAYS THINK I’ve misremembered the title, or that the name itself is a red herring: Why is it Women in Love when the most infamous scene from Ken Russell’s 1969 filman adaptation of D. H. Lawrence’s 1920 novelfeatures Alan Bates and Oliver Reed, both nude and sweat-slicked, their dongs jouncing, wrestling in front of a roaring fire? The lusty grapple lasts three minutes and feels like thirty. “Was it . . . too much for you?” one man asks the other, panting.
The query could apply to nearly any segment of Russell’s third movie, his breakthrough. (Within the next ten years, the English