Pubic hair shaving, etc.

I realize that the mise-en-scène of this film isn't entirely realistic; but the irrealism is almost entirely at the edges of what's being depicted, and at the macro level: the abandoned twentieth-century industrial building that represents the Margrave's palace, the occasional anachronistic large props, and the impossibly-sophisticated-for-Goltzius's-time special effects of the Pelican Company's stage performances, to name three of the most noticeable examples. There's one additional bit of irrealism, though, that's disturbing because of the way it contaminates the otherwise largely realistic micro level of the mise-en-scène, and that's the trimming or shaving of the women's, and even some of the men's, pubic hair, axillary hair, and other body hair. Unnecessary cognitive dissonance arose in my mind every time I witnessed an actress ripping off a fairly realistic period costume (though I question whether the real clothing of that period could have been removed so quickly) to reveal a modern-day porn-inspired bald or nearly bald pudendum and perfectly smooth armpits and legs.

I wonder whether part of the reason for this is that Peter Greenaway doesn't have enough traction in the film world to be able to get all his actresses and actors lined up months in advance and ask them to start growing out their body hair (a request that might of course conflict with what their acting roles and other activities in the intervening months might require). I can't believe that Greenaway, being the mature and in many ways quite traditional person that he is, actually prefers the horrible shaved look that's been holding sway for the past twenty years or so.