It's hard not to love this movie - so powerful, so operatic. But I'm trying. My problem isn't that it's uncinematic, it's that the character's motivations are insane. They're like characters in an opera. Or else lost in the mists of a forgotten folk culture. Or else blinder to each other's needs and desire than the English, who made great literature from insane misunderstandings of each other' motives. I can't help but like this film because of it real power, (and, of course, the visual backdrop of 1960 Milano) but it gives me the creeps too.
Ultimately - I saw this movie a couple of years ago and I can't get it out of my head, so Visconti must have done something right.
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About the reviewer
Christopher Newton (Ponderpig)
Native San Franciscan living in Spokane, about halfway through my first novel, set in the 1965 pre-Summer of Love Haight-Ashbury with excursions into Swinging London, 1923 New York, and WWII in the Cotswold … more
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