The inciting incident is a masquerade ball hosted at a chateau outside Lyon. The theme is “The Unseen Self.” Guests are required to wear masks that obscure not just their faces but their perceived identities. It is here that Alix, donning a delicate silver domino mask, encounters a stranger in a black leather half-mask. Their conversation is electric, intellectual, and deeply flirtatious. She does not realize—or perhaps subconsciously chooses not to—that the stranger is her own husband.
Unlike a standard gonzo production, By Any Other Name is a slow-burn psychodrama wrapped in the opulent trappings of bourgeois decadence. It is not merely about sex; it is about the architecture of desire—the unspoken rules, the power of a glance, and the eventual, inevitable collapse of restraint. By Any Other Name -DORCEL- -2024-
Raphael, equally unaware of her identity, is liberated by the anonymity. He speaks of his marriage with a brutal honesty he never dares express: the weight of routine, the fear of being known too completely. Alix, in turn, confesses her longing for a version of her husband that no longer exists—a man of risk and impulse. The inciting incident is a masquerade ball hosted
By Any Other Name (Dorcel, 2024): A Rose of Desire in a Garden of Power Director: Luca De Sade (as credited) Studio: Dorcel (Marc Dorcel) It is not merely about sex; it is
The first act culminates in a clandestine encounter in the chateau’s library. The sex is raw, desperate, and unfiltered—a stark contrast to the tender, scheduled intimacy of their home. It is, ironically, the most authentic moment of their relationship in years.
For viewers seeking an erotic film that engages the mind as thoroughly as the body, Dorcel’s 2024 offering is a lush, cerebral, and surprisingly tender exploration of love’s most dangerous game—pretending to be a stranger with the one who knows you best.
By Any Other Name is ultimately a film about the fragility of long-term desire. Its thesis is quietly radical: that we may need fictions—masks, aliases, roles—to access the most authentic parts of ourselves. The rose, regardless of its name, does indeed smell sweet. But the film adds a crucial corollary: sometimes, to smell the rose anew, we must pretend we have never seen it before.