Coralie Fargeat is only the ninth woman ever nominated for an Oscar for Best Director, for her body-horror picture “The Substance.” With its bold style and incisive look at unendurable feminine beauty standards, it’s not difficult to imagine she might enjoy a 1974 movie made by the first female nominated in the category, “Swept Away,” by Lina Wertmüller. 

Although the Italian Ms. Wertmüller was nominated for her next film, 1975’s “Seven Beauties,” it is “Swept Away” that is most remembered today — primarily due to its contentious take on sexual politics. Yet there’s no guarantee Ms. Fargeat would approve of the film, particularly considering many feminist writers were critical of it at the time and even today.

Screening for a week at Manhattan’s Film Forum starting Friday, “Swept Away… by an Unusual Destiny in the Blue Sea of August,” as it is formally known, tells a simple story when reduced to its basics: A wealthy married woman vacationing on a sailboat with her husband and friends ends up stranded on a deserted island in the middle of the Mediterranean with one of the deckhands. 

With the trappings of the modern world gone, the power structure of master and servant inverts: The haughty signora resists but eventually gives in to the sailor’s servile demands and even falls for him. What is essentially a story of summer love comes to an end when both are “rescued” back to civilization.  

A synopsis doesn’t do the film any favors, though, for it doesn’t address its deft handling of the comic, romantic, and dramatic, nor does it speak to the complexity of the characters or the relationship at its center. Raffaella Pavone Lanzetti is no reserved “rich lady”; she’s a staunchly anti-leftist conservative who likes to argue about politics and who’s fiercely feminist in deed if not in word. Gennarino Carunchio, too, is filled with contradictions; He’s a Communist who nonetheless believes in the patriarchy’s dominance, a married man who looks down at upper-class decadence and yet is not above having affairs.

At the film’s start, Raffaella is seen ranting to her friends about how the pristine waters they’re enjoying will soon be filled with plastic garbage, and how she advocates for mass sterilization to prevent over-tourism. Ms. Wertmüller establishes a humorous tone early on that serves to keep all the political talk and class warfare from being taken too seriously, even after the two find themselves stranded on a small island. 

Realizing the island is uninhabited, Gennarino defies her insistence at continued deferential treatment, and what follows is an amusing montage of the two walking separately around the gorgeous isle while hurling all manner of insults at each other. 

This light tone continues until the moment Gennarino strikes Raffaella and demands she kiss his hand in order to eat the seafood he’s caught. It’s a disturbing scene, for sure, illustrating his latent sadism, though her insults at him earlier in the film could be seen as nearly as brutal psychologically.

The discussion of politics and class distinctions up to this point begins to seem like a clever way to segue into the movie’s other theme: the battle of the sexes. Still, when there’s another scene of violence, with her fighting back as much as she can, it’s played for laughs as they tumble down dunes of white sand and he enumerates the sins of the rich. She asks, “Am I responsible for all the ills of the world?” His punchline is succinct: “Yes.”

When sex does enter the picture, the mood darkens once again as their relationship hinges on sado-masochistic tendencies. His misogynistic views of women lead him to demean her using degrading dialogue and spicy subjects, though the scenes themselves are fairly tasteful and even chaste visually. Gennarino wants to be worshipped, and Raffaella acquiesces while retaining her feisty intelligence. As they share passionate and tender moments amid the paradise of the island, they also fall in love.   

This pivot to the romantic from the farcical could have fallen flat if it were not for the fervent performances of the two actors. Mariangela Melato ably convinces that an uppity, strong-willed woman would not only accept subjugation in order to survive, but would welcome intimacy on such a brutish man’s terms. She also can be funny, especially when humming at something dubious, and looks fantastic, if a bit unbelievably so, as she traipses around the island in a black bathing suit. 

Giancarlo Giannini must play the regressive, cruel, but lovable lout, and while his bulging eyes and mugging for the camera occasionally annoy, he’s also amusing — just watch how he folds his pants — and quietly sensitive.

Both roles are tricky to pull off, and it’s a testament to Ms. Wertmüller’s writing and directing, as well as the actors’ skills and palpable chemistry, that they do. The couple are closer to soulmates than not, with each of them uniquely “unrefined,” mercurial, and playful. 

Their belief in the spirit of their remote idyll faces reality, though, when they return to the mainland. The pressures of society and class reinstate themselves, and the controversial aspect of the twosome’s bond comes to seem symbolic and unsustainable. As her political parable concludes, Ms. Wertmüller suggests that passion sets a sketchy course for understanding, and that love and laughter will never make the world go round.