Die mit der Liebe spielen

Many of the post-war new wave European directors seemed to have problems making "American Films" that addressed US concerns. Today the distinction no longer arises, media globalisation/colonization being almost complete. But while Antonioni's "Zabriskie Point" was a weak attempt at "portraying America", his previous films have become only more relevant, working as effective portraits of very specific modern conditions.

Unlike the neorealist films that he was reacting against, Antonioni's major films don't portray any working class alternatives to the lives of the bourgeoisie. Instead, his films induce a kind of paralysis. They have a noxious and toxic quality, which his characters experience and his audience is forced to share. This paralysis is itself the consequence of what happens when gender stratification and class domination are pushed to the extreme points that they are in a medium-late capitalist society. In other words, Antonioni's internal suffering, his existential nausea, is the precise "subjective" consequence of an "objective" regime of accretion for its own sake.

Antionioni's cinema embalms the viewer in a sort of suffocating subjectivity, until we feel nothing but the neuroticism, narcissism, and cataclysmic disinterest of his characters. And yet, his camera constantly forces us into a distant, almost inhuman, position. It is this strange juxtaposition between an inhuman, almost anthropological distance, and a subjectivity so suicidally sickening, that makes Antonioni's films so unique.

More importantly, it is because of this internal malaise, that Antonioni's characters are constantly on the run. One of man's greatest flaws is his incessant belief that some external flight is capable of inducing some meaningful state of internal happiness. That by retreating to another location, man's problems may disappear. That by superficially changing his environment, escaping to a fantasy world, indulging in physical pleasures or acquiring and accumulating material objects, man may finally be at peace. But time and time again, Antonioni reveals these tactics to be nothing more than temporary distractions.

As such, Antonioni's characters seem to fall into two categories. His Italian trilogy (and Red Desert), for example, focuses on wealthy characters who haven't a financial care in the world. If we think in terms of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, then this is a group of people whose requirements - financial, physiological, social or otherwise - are always amply met. But it is precisely because their needs are met, that these characters are trapped in a state of contemplation. They are free to think. And it is precisely this freedom which brings about a painful sort of super-awareness. Rather than struggle to survive, they question their own survival. And so they suffer from self-imposed loneliness, from an inability to connect with other people except on the most superficial level (they stage shark attacks and bouts of sex for quick thrills), and from, not frustration so much as anhedonia, an inability to take pleasure, and also, more shockingly, an inability even to have dreams or desires.

While Antonioni's "wealthy characters" now work as apt stand-ins for post-modern man, for every man and woman in the developed world, Antonioni's English-language films tend to focus on photographers and radicals. That is, they are artists and voyeurs, outside of both paralysis and capitalist logic. They seek to escape their identities, live free on the margins of society, or bring about some social disruption or even revolutionary action. But again, there is no solution. Antonioni's filmography never resolves the problems he tackles.

Unique with Antonioni is the way his characters fail to comfortably inhabit the spaces in which they exist. Antonioni's characters always seem to be in an awkward relationship with their personal environments. They slide within vacant houses, are suffocated by industrial wastelands, search ragged islands, and though they dream of blissful beaches or utopian deserts, there is no escape, only an ever-expanding landscape of paralysis.

And within these spaces, all Antonioni's drama is internal. Antonioni's cinema is a cinema of inaction. Nothing external happens. Instead, we witness the immense tiredness of the human body. We witness the outcome of some unseen drama and the result of some long past trauma. Watch how Antonioni begins his films with relationships, not only long established, but already dissolved. These characters carry the burdens of a complete past history. A history forever unknown to us. Think of "The Passenger" which begins with Jack Nicholson already lost and in the wilderness, or "The Eclipse", which begins with lovers breaking up.

In a sense, Antonioni also predicts the after-glow of the Sexual Revolution. He portrays a universe dominated by the superego injunction "to enjoy". Pleasure is the goal, but partaking in such pleasures, now readily accessible with the collapse of religion, culture and morality, only lead to a callous indifference to pleasure itself. And so we have a desensitisation to pleasure: an inability to find gratification in money, love, ideology or objects.

Monica Vitti, Antonioni's beautiful leading lady, thus becomes a symbol for this dissatisfaction. Antonioni objectifies Vitti, treats her as a pillar of sex and beauty, an object of temptation and ripe possibility, yet simultaneously portrays her as a disinterested and disaffected zombie. Love cannot flourish without sex, but love is impossible precisely because of sex. Sex is thus, to put it in Zizekian terms, simultaneously the condition of the possibility and the impossibility of love.

Unsurprisingly, as we begin the 21st century, the problems faced by Antonioni's middle-aged characters seemed to have been transferred to an even younger generation. Indeed, if Antonioni were making films today, his characters would probably be in their late teens. Perhaps this is why today's younger viewers (the very viewers who would benefit most from his films) find it hard to identify with Antonioni's films. Perhaps what we need is an Antonioni of the 21st century. A younger, hipper Antonioni. The kind of Antonioni that Antonioni tried to be with "Zabriskie Point".

8.5/10 - Masterpiece.

"L'avventura" is Michelangelo Antonioni's mind-blowing film about nothing. No, I don't mean "nothing happens." On the contrary it has a suspenseful story which, in the hands of someone like David Fincher, would be a steamy heart-pounding thriller. A girl goes mysteriously missing on a remote Italian island while her fiancé and her best friend have a mystery of their own. A ton happens. But the movie is about "nothing" - the palpable spectre of oblivion, the unknown, and hollow faith that haunts us all.

Antonioni made the statement at Cannes: "Today the world is endangered by an extremely serious split between a science that is totally and consciously projected into the future, and a rigid and stereotyped morality which all of us recognize as such and yet sustain out of cowardice or sheer laziness (...) Moral man, who has no fear of the scientific unknown, is today afraid of the moral unknown."

In other words, he is saying we have accepted the scientific unknown (an infinitely unknown universe) and embraced it exploration into the future, but in terms of morality we cling to traditional, archaic stereotypes of the past. There are definitely religious overtones in images of empty churches, but specifically the film focuses on the institution of marriage and the concept of everlasting love which, when not attained, leads people to misery; yet we cling to it "out of cowardice or sheer laziness."

"L'avventura" focuses on the inherent "nothing" of love. It opens on a woman bidding farewell to her father in a very cold, emotionless way as he himself conducts a soulless business deal--selling their sprawling property to be razed and turned into cheap apartments. She then goes to meet her lover whom she hasn't seen in a month, but at the last minute she decides she'd rather go have coffee by herself because she prefers the feeling of being without him. The story unfolds as they and a group of other wealthy Italian couples take a boat to an isolated island, and on the way over we quickly learn that each couple is a loveless marriage with each person barely tolerating if not despising their spouse. And yet they remain together out of cowardice or sheer laziness.

Then the film does something absolutely brilliant to illustrate this concept of "nothing". About 30 minutes into the story, the entire plot disappears. Literally we are left without a plot, without a protagonist, and with nothing but a bunch of characters stumbling around trying to figure out what to do next. If you're not prepared for this shift you may end up frustrated or hating the movie because suddenly there's no point. But "no point" *is* the point.

As the characters lead a lukewarm effort to search for their missing companion (symbolically, the plot) they become increasingly apathetic toward the whole tragedy, and instead they resume their miserable lives, their loveless pairings, and their general lazy adherence to the way things always were. And in this way Antonioni illustrates what he said at Cannes. When faced with the moral unknown, rather than seizing and exploring it as we would with science, we fall back on familiar, tired patterns.

The film then breaks off to follow 2 characters in their half-hearted search. They travel through wonderfully surreal settings: towns that are completely deserted, or the opposite: a chaotic spectacle of hundreds of lusty men chasing after a pretty girl who has ripped her skirt. All of these scenes are majestically and gorgeously shot, and even if you don't immediately grasp the symbolism, you can't help but be stunned at how gripping the images are.

Initially booed by the audience at its premiere, "L'avventura" is definitely a challenging film. It gives us a plot but then rips the plot out from under us, replacing it with another, and then even that plot gradually sinks into a "love story". But if you're paying attention, you can guess that even the love story is ephemeral and fleeting. When the final, breathtaking scene ends, come back here and re-read the Antonioni quote (or better yet, search for the whole text and read it all) and you'll get it. "L'avventura" is about nothing.

There's something strange going on in this film.

The first time I watched it, it seemed to wash over me without affecting me in anyway. Later on(and I've read this in other people's comments here as well) I found images and dialogue from the movie creeping into my subconscious; entire dreams would take place upon the island where Anna goes missing(often in monochrome), or I'd start to compare real life events to those that occur during the film. Did Antonioni plant subliminal messages within the movie? Probably not. It's more likely the masterful pace he employs here, coupled with the busy, deep cinematography is the cause of this. Notice how the backgrounds NEVER go out of focus, no matter how much is going on within the frame. Check out the scene about an hour and ten minutes in, where Sandro and the old man are talking in the middle of an extremely busy street; nothing blurs or goes out of focus, even when a tram comes in and out of the shot, nothing loses it's perspective, and as the scene ends and they walk deep into the shot we can see way past them and far, far into the distance.

This seems to be why the film has such a deep affect on the subconscious. The characters are deliberately shallow and are placed at the very foreground of every shot, yet the backgrounds are rich tableaux bustling with life. In the scenes on the island where Anna disappears, we see the main characters always in shot, yet in the background there is a feeling that something strange within nature itself is going on. The darkening of the clouds, the sudden mist upon the water, the rocks falling to the sea, even the sudden appearance of the old hermit character, all give a certain unease.

There's also the haunting feeling of the film, as Anna's friends begin, almost immediately to forget about her. Soon, they don't seem to care a jot about her, and neither, in a sense, do we. It's this feeling of loose ends and guilt on our part(for joining her so called 'friends' in forgetting about her so quickly) that leaves the deepest impression. The characters in this film are so morally shallow(the ending bears this out) yet they are the reason this film leaves such a strong impression on those who watch it, and who become captivated by it.

I cant recommend this film to everyone because I know that the Hollywood Blockbuster has reduced most modern cinema-goers attention spans to almost zero. But if you fancy a challenge, or merely wish to luxuriate in classic cinema.....begin here.

Gorgeous film, with devastating commentary on relationships. Early on there is something raw and elemental about the dramatic setting, an island with the sea roaring around its craggy inlets, rock formations that look ancient, and the wind howling as it blows up a storm. The people that have come to this place on a pleasure cruise off the coast of southern Italy are generally all unhappy or dissatisfied, most of them with the person they're in a relationship with. When Anna (Lea Massari) suddenly goes missing, a search ensues.

I loved the premise, and loved even more where the film went from there. Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti), Anna's fiancé, begins pursuing her friend Claudia (Monica Vitti) from the first day of her absence, which is pretty shocking. And the further the action moves away from the island and we see the other characters either getting on with their lives (most of which involve infidelities of their own), or making what seems to be a pretty distant effort to know what's happening, the more we wonder, but what about Anna? If it were a conventional film, I'd be thinking that given the guy starts dating her girlfriend pretty much immediately after she goes missing, why are the police not investigating him? Or questioning a character named Corrado, who had gone off in a boat to a smaller island right beforehand? But the film is not meant to be a mystery, it's making a point about the human condition.

What does it mean to live one's life how one wants, to seek happiness, and to be able to adapt and move on, things that you might think would all be positive, at least to some degree? Does it mean inherent selfishness, infidelity, and unkindness? And can monogamous relationships survive in a world where little dissatisfactions set in, and there is always another person to be attracted to? I thought the film was well paced and had no issues with its length, as it allows subplots to develop, and the longer it went, the more it caused me to occasionally wonder ... what about Anna? And is this what we do to the people in our lives, pushing them out of mind when it becomes convenient? I loved how the film stayed artistically pure, seeking its vision, without caving in and giving us canned or artificial moments. And in that last moment, what I saw as forgiveness for what is an unforgiveable act ... perhaps it signals something that seems pretty depressing, that infidelity is inevitable, and it takes an almost divine act like that hand on the back of the head to stay together as a couple.

Through it all, director Michelangelo Antonioni gives us a beautiful, beautiful film. His compositions and attention to detail - in grand, sweeping shots and those that are closer - are wonderful. There are countless scenes that are visually appealing, and while it felt like there was a unifying theme in the aesthetic, he seems to experiment a little, such as that great shot from the boat back towards the dock, lightly bobbing with the waves, and the rocky island rising up in the background.

Some other little bits:

• Anna had two books with her on the trip, F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'Tender is the Night' and the Holy Bible. I liked how the father conveniently disregarded the first, with its themes on the unhappiness in marriage, and took the Bible exclusively to mean that she hadn't committed suicide. We see what we want to see.

• Just as human relationships are subject to impermanence maybe out of neglect, one of the people clumsily drops an ancient vase discovered in one of the island's caves, and it makes no difference to them.

• There is reverence for the freedom and spacing of the architectural style of ancient buildings which have survived, but our lives seem so dreadfully transient in comparison. In one scene Ferzetti's character deliberately tips over an inkwell on an artist's drawing, seemingly out of spite. I wondered if he was jealous of youth, or jealous of having sold out on his old dreams to become more of a businessman than an architect - sensing his own mortality, or his compromises in a too-short life.

• In keeping with the elemental early scenes and the commentary on the fundamental nature of people, there was something primal about the very aggressive southern Italian male gaze from dozens of men in a large crowd around Monica Vitti in one scene, which was very creepy.

• Favorite quote, Anna at about the 25 minute mark:

"I'm distraught. The idea of losing you makes me want to die. And yet I don't feel you anymore." Shortly afterwards, she's gone.

By the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Italian economy had already started stabilising and moving away from the devastating consequences of WWII. The stabilisation and subsequent economic growth took place through rapid and widespread industrialisation. One can also clearly notice a shift in the sensibilities in the Italian films which were made during these years by acclaimed filmmakers like Antonioni, Fellini, Ermanno Olmi, etc. Their films shifted away from the concerns of neorealist films of the 1940s and early 50s. In this context, it is very interesting to note the dissimilarities between a typical Italian neorealist film and a post-neorealist film like 'L'Avventura'. While Neorealism dealt with the economic fallout of WWII, 'L'Avventura' deals with a sense of disillusionment in the midst of rapid industrialisation(the very first line of dialogue revolves around how the natural woods are being being replaced by houses). While Neorealism focused on the poor working class Italians, 'L'Avventura' focuses on the privileged upper class or the bourgeois section of the Italian society.

From a technical standpoint, it has to be said that 'L'Avventura' is exquisitely shot. The camera movements and numerous tracking shots are executed with a distinct sophistication and methodical precision. There are a lot of complex frame compositions that take place in the interior scenes which scream perfectionism on the part of Antonioni. The overall tone for the film is one of extreme austerity. This austerity and lack of humanity to the film is clearly meant to represent the supposed lack of humanity in the midst of mindless industrialisation and consumerism. I think one thing that the viewer has to assume in order to buy into the film's plot and story elements is that the film takes place in Antonioni's own world which is a little different to the real world. This is because accepting the reaction of some of the characters to certain occurrences in the film will involve a certain amount of the suspension of disbelief.

The problem I had with 'L'Avventura' is that after a while, the relentless austerity started to get a little unbearable and tough to be receptive to. It's interesting because I know the austerity is absolutely deliberate and it's intended to epitomise the ennui that the characters get afflicted by along with Antonioni's own idea of the blandness and aimlessness of life in contemporary industrialised Italy of the early 60s. The first hour of the film is absolutely spectacular and rich with abstract existentialist intrigue. But once the group leaves the island and we re-enter civilisation, the film gets progressively less intriguing for me. I generally don't get negatively affected by the austerity of Kubrick or Bergman. But the second half of this film really started to progressively weigh me down.

I don't think any acting performance in the film is particularly special. But of course Monica Vitti offers vulnerability and a sensitive touch to her character and she is the only one that the viewer can find any reason to sympathise with. But to be honest, it is clear that Antonioni is in no mood to make any character singularly likable.

Overall 'L'Avventura' is a film that clearly shows a master at work who clearly has a visual flair and a philosophical voice. But the austerity and lack of humanity in the film makes it tough to rewatch and revisit too often.