Hedonists heading south to Haiti in the late '70s found a safe tropical paradise catering to both genders and all erotic preferences, or so it seems -- more to the tourists than the Haitians.

	Charlotte Rampling, left, finds true lust with Menothy Cesar in "Heading South." Click photo for larger image. 'Heading South' Rating: R in nature for intense sexuality and some nudity. Starring: Charlotte Rampling, Karen Young, Louise Portal. Director: Laurent Cantet. Web site: www.shadowdistribution.com/headingsouth

At the outset of director Laurent Cantet's "Vers le sud" ("Heading South"), we meet three American ladies-of-a-certain-age on the beach of a plush resort: worldly-wise Ellen (Charlotte Rampling), fragile Brenda (Karen Young) and easygoing Sue (Louise Portal) have come there to escape their troubles and rediscover their sensuality.

Key to that rediscovery is the beautiful young Adonis named Legba (Menothy Cesar), a very busy boy who escapes his own sexual (and economic) troubles there, too -- but faces new ones in the form of a fatal rivalry for his affections.

Cantet's two previous films -- "Human Resources" (2000) and "Time Out" (2001) -- were concerned with social irony and inequity. This one is even more so, for its setting in Haiti, where the gap between rich and poor is so gigantic, and where sex is an instrument of power, the currency for commercial arrangements that are, however, not without love.

Based on stories by Dany Laferriere, Cantet's film deals with what happens when social misery and sexual misery converge.

"What do you want -- my heart? A passport?" asks one of our trio.

Cantet retains Laferriere's monologue device by which the women speak very bluntly about their desire, telling the story -- or their "side" of it -- in their own words, devoid of value judgments and moralism.

Scenic prettiness is stripped away. The dialogue is in a lovely (subtitled) mix of French, English and Creole, with only fragmentary references to (and an elliptical understanding at best of) the political situation. There are bullying macoutes. Legba is in some kind of "trouble" with them. The three foreign women are no less clueless about all this than we are, and about whether, or how much, he really cares for any of them.

Rampling's subtlety and restraint are marvelous. "You look old with your hair wet," Legba tells her. She is not offended by that, but she is offended by Brenda, who violates the "rules of engagement" by falling hopelessly in love with the boy:

"Let me give you a word of advice -- Legba belongs to everyone. Give him a free reign. He makes the decisions." Which advice, the other woman in her sensual trance fails to heed.

Then, during the "Baby Doc" Duvalier era, as now, the stunning paradox for white visitors in Haiti is the coexistence of bliss and misery. Cantet prefers the term "love tourism" to "sexual tourism," but the bottom line is that "tourists never die."

At the end of this provocative, unsettling, beautifully acted film, Ellen and Brenda to some extent switch roles. After living it up at the Hotel Haiti, they can check out -- but Legba can never leave.