Il Grido

Films like Il Grido are nearly impossible to qualify or calculate on any real scale simply because they do not adhere to conventional rules of filmmaking. Michelangelo Antonioni's existential journey is very episodic in nature as we watch a self-contained man travel away from his lover in search of more fulfilling relationships after she turns down his marriage proposal. What follows may or may not make an emotional impact on the viewer as it is very languid pacing and tediously told. Antonioni fills the screen with endless long shots and long takes of the most desolate, empty and vast areas possible, especially for a country known to be so vibrant and fruitful as Italy. This seems to represent the protagonist's soul, his yearning for some sort of satisfaction that he cannot seem to grab a hold of. Despite the downtrodden mood of the film, it is a captivating journey, exploring the depths and lengths to which humans seek pleasure in any form. Of course, this assumes that pleasure is the right word.

Antonioni is one of the sages of cinema, perhaps the wisest of them. His cinema is a stunning edifice; a structure rigid and harmonious as shaped by a visual vocabulary which articulates with few words a place and a time; pattern and blueprint, whereby each film as individual level informs and is informed by the whole; these levels filled with doors to insight and intuition. To all these doors he holds the keys, and in the spaces behind the doors, which are closed to most filmmakers, he moves freely and sees everything. Meditation as stillness of mind, which enables awareness.

Naturally some of these levels are more aptly functional, staircases that lead higher. Il Grido is one of those (and La Notte later).

Nonetheless we see here the early sketches of what is to come. We see a man cast adrift after a painful breakup as passing through various lives, affecting them with shortlived passions and vexations. Each of these lives he briefly shares could be a possible new home, a safe harbor where peace and happiness are finally possible. But he moves on, still clinging to a mad hope and frustrated desire that his old affair could resume at any point.

So this is the fascinating stuff. A man alone, itinerant, ostensibly free to be what he may, but captive of his desires so that he's nothing at all, except perhaps a painful memory. The downward spiral into squalor and misery is not simply the upkeep of a bad karma, but a reminder of what fuels the restlessnesss. What negativity keeps him going, regret or unfulfillment, will only be encountered ahead of him, it cannot be escaped by running from it.

In passing through these phases the film perhaps stalls for too long. We understand what is going on, the proverbial journey of an empty, unfulfilled life, but Antonioni wants to shape these lives as lived, meaning we get the mundane details of their routine. The comings and goings and side characters, as vignettes. This is the neorealist baggage ostensibly cinema in the service of revealing/documenting society, which Antonioni is about to shed for his next film, and be free as a creative spirit.

For the end Antonioni reserves defeaning symbolism, by contrast to the hazy allusions he would favour onwards. The man climbs on the refinery tower, the place and time where he was for once happy in his life and which now seems impossible to attain again, and we don't even have to guess what happens next.

Aldo's way takes him through the northern Italian region he knew in his youth. Gianni di Venanzo's photography is superb, capturing the bleak atmosphere of small towns: houses run down, cheap gas stations, a school in the middle of nowhere. There is nobody like Antonioni for portraying empty spaces leading nowhere.

Aldo is as confused a character as one can find in European cinema. His life with Irma is over-she doesn't love him anymore-but he insists on moving on with his daughter. Elvia and her sex pot sister Edera offer no shelter to this man, who can't afford to bring up a child. He gets lucky, it seems with Virginia and her crazy dad at the gas station, but still he manages to alienate her. The last stop is a rundown shack with a prostitute. The four actresses--Alida Valli, Betsy Blair, Dorian Grey and Lyn Shaw--all play well. Steve Cochran at least has the advantage of a sturdy build even if his acting skills are limited.

If Il grido is not as fine as L'avventura or Le amiche from the early period, it is still very good work.

Some folks watching "Il Grido" might be surprised to see some Americans in this Italian film. In the 1950s and 60s, quite a few Italian directors (such as Antonioni and Fellini) cast Americans and had them dubbed into Italian. Most were second and third tier actors at the time (such as Steve Cochran, Richard Basehart and Anthony Quinn) but later even some big name stars performed in the Italian films (such as Burt Lancaster). I think the reason they did this was to attempt to increase the marketability of the movies outside of Italy--and these stars would help.

The film begins with Irma (Alida Valli) learning that her husband is dead. He apparently has been gone for many years and the interim she's been living with Aldo (Steve Cochran). They even have a child together. Here's the odd part, however, now that she knows she's a widow, she tells Aldo to leave! He is not at all happy and eventually he disappears along with his daughter. For the rest of the film, Aldo and his daughter move from town to town. However, Aldo has difficulty connecting with other women and he rejects opportunity after opportunity for relationships. Instead, he remains socially isolated and depressed.

Overall, you'll probably find this film a bit slow and depressing. While this is usually a big turn-off, it actually works here. Director Antonioni wants to create a depressing portrait of a lost man and does it quite well. The simple piano score sure helps with this. Not a film for everyone but exceptionally well made.

By the way, at one point in the film, you see folks saying they caught a couple porcupines and were going to eat them. These actually were hedgehogs--you never would hold porcupines the way they did nor do I think you'd eat them! This is simply a mistranslation.

Other reviews to the contrary, if you found Le Notte or L'Eclisse lacked sufficient plot, I doubt you'll enjoy Il Grido. However, unlike later Antonioni, the focus here is not on fear of commitment & loss of passion, but on a classic spurned lover. Like L'Eclisse, Il Grido begins with breakup, magnificently acted & powerfully filmed; we feel each shudder of pain. In fact, both films' power rests on us sharing this experience, second by second, nerve-end by nerve-end. Note Irma's efforts to hold to the fabric of order & routine to keep a lid on Aldo's fury & the careful portrayal of Aldo's frustrations.

Il Grido's opening builds to a very public & final breakup. It initiates Aldo's journey away from Irma & home. I kept thinking of Schubert's song cycle, Winterreise. In both, after rejection the protagonist's world ceases to hold together. Only here the descent isn't into winter but into fog, industrial sprawl, & ever more spartan existence. Even the piano which accompanies Aldo reminded me of lieder.

The opening's not quite picturesque scenery may suggest nurturing home values. Unlike couples in other Antonioni classics, Aldo & Irma have a daughter, & to Aldo their lives seemed fulfilled. The almost picturesque is soon replaced by encroaching industrial sounds & images. Several times we see trees felled as an old order is being swept away. At film's end, the whole town is slated for demolition, & we are asked to contemplate the relation between the Winterreise-like main text of lost love & this subtext of industrial sprawl & oppressive, intrusive government. No clear connection is given, but as in later Antonioni, the images work their effect as much on our subconscious as on our intellect; whether we can verbalize our thoughts or not, we feel this rupture with earlier values & social structures. For me, Il Grido is a more honest film than L'Avventura. If it lacks a bit of the elegant, refined photo compositions of Antonioni's trilogy, it rests on the same detailed, carefully structured cinematography.