Der große Irrtum

To be everything is nothing. To go against what you cherish the most is the symbolic gesture of weakness. The brilliant story telling of the young and passionate Bernardo Bertolucci remains as vivid and powerful as the first time I saw it - 15 years ago, when I was 21 - The film is 41 years old now and I can only imagine the effect it had in its day. For me, it became a point of reference and to see it again is a shattering scramble of emotions. Jean Louis Trintignat is extraordinary and Stefania Sandrelli is superb as the mediocre, petite bourgeois wife. The art direction by Ferdinando Scarfiotti and the photography by Vittorio Storaro are, quite simply, without equal. I was very moved by the appearance of Pierre Clemeti as the ambiguous Lino. A film to visit and re-visit.

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+

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.

What is most amazing about The Conformist is it's cinematography and angles.

Director Bertolucci and Cinematographer Storraro have created a masterpiece of form by using light, camera angles, and character positioning.

The architecture dwarfs the characters as they try to make sense of their existence during Italy's fascist period (1930's). They are placed theatrically at times creating a balance of space.

The Conformist is the most stunning film visually I have ever seen. Every scene is immaculate, kind of surreal, almost to rich for the senses to take in one viewing.

The story is somewhat difficult on the first viewing but one can figure the basic plot line. It is a story about repression and oppression, about nationality, political beliefs during a paradigm shift. It is about acceptance and avoidance. It is about playing it safe in a time of tension.

The final scene suggests what the main character might have become had he chose the truth. It is left up to us to judge him and realize that it is sort of a catch 22; either way, he would have ended up in that dark place where a fascist country would mentally place same sex love.

See this film to see the potential of the beauty of film.

Conform or not to Conform? That is the Question.

I have been a fan of Bertolucci for quite a while now - his recent films like "Stealing Beauty" and "The Dreamers" make my all-time favourites' list, while his acclaimed "The Last Emperor", which I saw years ago, didn't make me a great impression: it was definitely a well-made epic, just didn't fascinate me like some of his other films. Same thing with his controversial "Last Tango in Paris": other than Marlon Brando's devastating performance, which will always be a must-see for those who admire raw acting, the film's daring (for its time) approach to sexuality is now outdated, and the film is rather dull in its apparently liberal speech (the fact that I'm not exactly a Maria Schneider fan doesn't help). And last night, I finally watched the extraordinary "The Conformist", arguably his masterpiece and undoubtedly one of the greatest films ever made.

Based on a novel by Italian author Albert Moravia (who also wrote the novel that inspired Godard's "Contempt"), "The Conformist" is the story of a closeted homosexual, Marcello (Jean-Louis Trintignant) who becomes a fascist yes-man, marrying a clueless girl, Giulia (Stefania Sandrelli) and going to Paris for their honeymoon. Marcello's bosses ask him to kill his old college mentor, Quadri (Enzo Tarascio), an anti-fascist who fled Italy to live in Paris with his young, beautiful and idealistic wife, Anna (Dominique Sanda). Anna and Marcello are former lovers, but that's not the only pitfall in Marcello's plan, nor is it stronger than his tragic conformism to an exacerbated political regime and the fear of living as a "pederast"/having his homosexuality made public.

The political factor is an open part of the plot, while Marcello's sexuality is very ambiguous (he seems to have real feelings for Anna, yet a childhood trauma and a homophobic attitude show his tragic character formation). "The Conformist" works as a riveting political thriller and a haunting character study, and it's impossible to praise this film without mentioning Vittorio Storaro's breath-taking cinematography, possibly his greatest (and that's saying a lot) and certainly one of the very best in film history. The whole film is so beautifully shot that every scene seems to be taken out of a painting; it could perfectly be photographed now rather than 38 years ago and it wouldn't look any better. The performances are all magnificent, particularly Trintignant, Sandrelli and Sanda, each perfectly portraying blind rage, ignorance and idealism, respectively. All in all, as close to perfection as film-making gets, and as timeless as its main themes (politics, conformism and sexuality) - if you think this couldn't happen today, take a look around and tell me how many gay Republicans you know?

10/10.