Red Desert (1964) - Directed by Michaelangelo Antonioni

Were it not for Michaelangelo Antonioni’s early 1960’s output, he would probably make my all-time top 5 most overrated directors. As it is, he is saved from such a fate through a string of 4 films that all examine the same thing: spiritual, emotional, and relational alienation. His “alienation” trilogy of L’Avventura (1960), La Notte (1961) and L’Ecclise (1962) introduced his major themes of concern and his major muse, Monica Vitti. We tend not to include Red Desert in this grouping, but we might as well have, and called it a "quadrilogy" of sorts. In fact, I would argue that Red Desert is the culmination of the themes that he was exploring and the highest form of visual and thematic expression that he would ever achieve. In his following movies, Blow-Up (1966), Zabriskie Point (1970), The Passenger (1975), he began a decline stemming from a self-indulgent pretense that bordered on near self-parody. Can I blame him though? Where can one go after Red Desert?

Red Desert is unabashedly a pretentious film at heart, but this is not unlike many great works of art. Monica Vitti stars as Giuliana, mother of a young boy and wife of Ugo (Carlo Chionetti) who runs a huge, industrial plant, of which I’m not sure what it produces or refines, but it’s a network of steam release valves, rusted silos, and produces all kinds of waste that, along with the rest of the nearby industrial jungle, pollutes the water and air in abundance. Antonioni shot the film in northern Italy in and amongst real industrial power plants. These are real places, but they don't feel like it. They feel otherworldly. Adding to this odd dimension is the soundtrack that reminds me of the kind of blips and drones that might as well have come from the sci-fi film The Forbidden Planet (1956). But, Antonioni clearly wants us to recognize the tortured and pained reality of this world, even though green grass looks out of place in the polluted landscape.

Giuliana, we are told, had a car accident one month prior, and her husband feels that she is still in some state of shock, as he confides to fellow plant supervisor Corrado (Richard Harris). In fact, she is. We are introduced to her as she walks with her son across the wasteland around the factory. She strangely pays a man for a half-eaten sandwich, and we immediately realize that she is not right. While visiting her husband’s plant, she meets Corrado, and they soon develop a strange affair. It doesn’t involve sex at first. Rather the extent of their relationship involves confiding to each other what is eating at their souls. She opens up to Corrado and admits that in the hospital she became lost, losing touch with herself and has been unable to retrieve her soul from the proverbial abyss. Corrado is less estranged from humanity, but is fearful of the world and cannot remain still, prodded to transience. Red Desert examines their soulless existence with urgency and remorse. She cannot fathom loving anyone, nor anyone loving her. She wants to connect, but lacks the spiritual and emotional center she needs to do so. When later in the film Giuliana goes over the edge due to her son’s faking a major illness, she and Corrado are thrown together in the most dispassionate of ways in a feigned attempt at comfort.

This was Antonioni’s first film in color. Red Desert is filled with a near continual barrage of striking images, often with primary colors contrasting with bleak grays and browns. It's one of the most visually expressive films ever made. Nearly any shot could make a striking photograph or painting, something which has been noted by many. Additionally, notice the way that fog insists on being both part of the imagery and part of the enveloping malaise and disconnectedness of the characters. In fact, this is a film where the imagery and thematic/psychological elements parallel each other directly. Much like Anthony Mann’s westerns, like The Naked Spur (1953), or Kurosawa’s Dodes’ka-den (1970), Red Desert uses the environment to deeply reflect and ultimately enhance the psychosis of the characters within that environment. Red Desert’s industrial and toxic wasteland is Antonioni's fully realized metaphor for the polluted and alienated modern soul. This for me is what elevates Red Desert above all of Antonioni’s films. Although L’Avventura and others cover the same ground (poetically in fact), it appears to me that Antonioni reached his zenith of expression in Red Desert and laid down his manifesto.

The Lovers (Les Amants) (1958) - Directed by Louis Malle



Louis Malle's collaboration on two films in 1958 with French actress Jeanne Moreau yielded possibly the best films that he ever made. I'm a huge fan of his neo-noir masterpiece Elevator to the Gallows (1958) with its gripping tale of an adulteress requesting that her lover murder her husband, yielding a pinnacle of French Cinema, not only for Moreau's performance, but the film with it's pulsing Miles Davis score and throbbing suspense is easily one of the best of the 50's. Her other film with Malle in 1958, The Lovers is a once scandalous but now more introspective and reflective film about love, mostly the fleeting quality. It remains an acute observation of human malaise, disenchantment and the desire for the feeling of falling in love, rather than the desire for lasting love.

Malle's film plays in three parts. In the opening sequences, we see Moreau playing a character named Jeanne, relentlessly bored with her life. Wandering aimlessly from the hallways of her husband's factory, to the carousel carnival rides of her lover Raoul, a polo-player. She is happy with neither man in her life and the prospect of the long term relationship nor the extended love affair is what she wants. She's completely wrapped up in the boredom of her state. Moreau's screen presence, brimming with an understated brand of morose passion was perfect for playing a role like this. We know she's not happy with her husband. After all they are sleeping in separate rooms. Yet we know she's not excited by Raoul by the way that she just goes about her business with him. Life and love is ritualistic for Jeanne. Michaelangelo Antonioni went on to develop a whole cinema around themes such as these in films like L'Avventura (1960) and Red Desert (1964) working with Monica Vitti as his muse. Here as well though, Malle makes the boredom of the bourgeoisie fascinating to watch, even as unsympathetic as the characters are.

In the middle section of the film, Jeanne is driving to her dinner party when her car breaks down and she is lucky to be picked up by a younger guy named Bernard. She asks him to drive her home. We notice during this portion of the film that a more improvisational tone starts to creep in. Jeanne is less sure of what is to come and what this moment means for her. Bernard takes her on a side-trip as he must run an errand, making Jeanne wait at the car. Jeanne is flustered. Moreau lets us see how this character's life is beginning to attempt to "feel" again during these awkward moments with the stranger. Bernard is convinced to stay for the dinner party once returning Jeanne to her house. We sense that something will happen between Jeanne and Bernard that night.

For the final portion of the film, Malle presents to us an impassioned night between Jeanne and Bernard as he spends the night in their house, right under the nose of Jeanne's husband. This is a very eerie sequence, shot under moonlight on the grounds of the large estate while Jeanne and Bernard make advances on each other among the grass and trees. It feels ghostly and ephemeral and neither of them seem to be real during these moments. Malle wants us to dispute the proposition of falling in love like this and to debate whether this is all a dream. It sure feels like a dream. We also finally see that this is what Jeanne has been yearning for: the moment of falling in love to escape from her boredom. During the morning after, we immediately feel the dread that Jeanne has for what's next. We sense that she cannot sustain what she has started. She and Bernard are clueless as to whether they have any future together and we see that it has all been a mistake. Malle presents this to us in the plainest of terms, cutting like a knife through any melodrama or nostalgia. Jeanne Moreau carries us through the whole film with class, beauty and her unique film presence. She is one of the finest of all actresses with an incredible list of films and this is one of her best performances. Malle's collaboration with her in this film makes it essential viewing.