Der große Irrtum

Bernardo Bertolucci's stunning early-1970s classic looks absolutely beautiful nearly forty years later. It tells the story of a fascist in 1930s Italy who is assigned to root out and assassinate anti-fascists. As the story develops, we learn that a childhood event played a large role in shaping this man's perception of himself, and that the life he is leading is largely a lie.

The story Bertolucci tells is odd and compelling, but what kept me glued to the television screen was the film's mesmerizing visual style. Bertolucci collaborated with cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, and it's not an exaggeration to say that they create some of the most beautiful images I've ever seen in a film. One might expect Bertolucci to adopt a sombre color palette for telling such a gloomy story, but that's not the case. On the contrary, he opts for lush colors, striking contrasts, and stylized lighting to create a slightly surrealistic environment that's one small step removed from reality as we know it.

A truly remarkable movie.

Grade: A+

A weak-willed Italian man (Jean-Louis Trintignant) becomes a fascist flunky who goes abroad to arrange the assassination of his old teacher (Enzo Tarascio), now a political dissident.

The film is said to be a case study in the psychology of fascism: Marcello Clerici is a bureaucrat dehumanized by a dysfunctional upper class family and a childhood sexual trauma. Political philosopher Takis Fotopoulos calls the film "a beautiful portrait of this psychological need to conform and be 'normal' at the social level, in general, and the political level, in particular."

I loved it. I think it was very symbolic of not just fascism, but politics and humanity in general. There really is a desire to conform, and normality varies based on when and where you live. Political ideas might seem weird in one place and not another. The same with morality. Could a society exist where the removal of your friends is just a part of life? Sure. (The Mafia does it.)

What I like most about this film is its visual style, owing to great art direction, and great color photography from famed cinematographer Vittorio Storaro. In particular, those huge, empty rooms; those tilted lines; that expansive outdoor platform with the Eiffel Tower in the background; that indoor restaurant with its red-outlined windows are all examples of places in the film that make a profound impression on the eyes. The stunning visuals are helped along by a galloping score, and by terrific 1930's music, especially the song "Whose Happier Than I?"

By contrast, I found the film's story to be less interesting. Marcello Clerici (Jean-Louis Trintignant) is a weak-willed man who feels different from others, in part because of an unfortunate childhood experience. His aim therefore is to be like everyone else, or at least to convey publicly an "impression of normalcy". Toward that objective, he becomes a fascist, a popular political brand in 1930's Italy. He journeys to Paris, where most of the story is set. The film's theme is very political, and wonderfully anti-fascist.

While the film's underlying concept is intriguing, the plot is dense and convoluted. It is helped not at all by jarring editing, and by a screenplay structure that relies too much on flashbacks. Further, most of the characters are not very likable. Marcello himself is both dull and too passive. His love interest is Giulia, a shallow, giggly young woman I found annoying. I did like the reference to Plato's Cave, a metaphor that directly relates to Marcello's predicament.

As a result of the cinematography and the cold weather, the tone of the film is generally bleak and dreary, consistent with the mindset of the film's protagonist. This is not a movie to watch when wanting to feel cheery or upbeat.

Because "The Conformist" is set in a bygone era, the story may not appeal to some viewers. However, its valid historical perspective adds depth to our understanding of twentieth century European politics. And with its great cinematography, art design, period piece costumes and background music, the film is worth at least a one-time viewing.

Bertolucci's "Conformist" must not be missed if it shows up at your local art/independent movie theater.

Indispensable for its photography and visual style alone -- credit legendary DP Vittorio Storaro, best known for his work on The Godfather films and Apocalypse Now -- the film delivers with a ferocious punch on a remarkable number of levels.

Dense and often difficult, yet leavened with unexpectedly beautiful and humorous touches, "The Conformist" functions primarily as an indictment of Fascism and its adherents. But deeper threads run deeply through the picture; it is an examination of one man's attitudes towards the value of patriotism, love, family, marriage, sex and death, and, as has perhaps been overstated (by both the critics and perhaps the film-maker) it also explores the ramifications of homosexual repression.

Bertolucci expertly manages to weave these themes into a hypnotic, occasionally surreal experience that has served as an inspiration for countless directors.

Performances are brilliant throughout. Dominique Sanda is one of the most engaging and sensual women to ever grace the screen.

See this film, and you will simply wish to see it again.

This is one of few films in which every artist's performance peaks and falls into place: Trintignant (Z (1969), le Secret (1974)) at his best, Bertolucci's best picture so far, and Vittorio Storaro's best cinematography (besides Apocalypse Now). Their cooperation seems to pay off very well (Novecento (1976), Last Emperor (1987)) as they apparently enhance each other's work. With their brilliance they almost turn Marcello into a hero, while he is actually an anti-hero in this non-linear story. It's not only an entertaining personal tragedy, it's also a political thriller with very distinctive music. I couldn't imagine life without Il Conformista anymore (like Amarcord and some other masterpieces).

Always beautiful, never sentimental: poetic from minute to minute. The compositions, lighting and camera-movements made me breathless: I've never seen so much poetic power in one film. Watch for instance the camera's movement to behind the tree when Manganiello searches for Marcello in the small park @ 68 min. And for instance the hand-held scene near the end. Or the camera placements when Marcello comes approaches his mother's house. Actually the entire film is a big poem. See for yourself :-)

I was lucky enough to see this one in a theater just two months after seeing it first (dec 2000). If you have the chance, go see it on a big screen. If you like the looks of this you will probably like 'Una giornata particolare' (1977) and 'Amarcord' (1974) too.

Why o why can't we vote 11 :(