Die 120 Tage von Sodom

Salo, the final film by Pasolini, is far and away the most affecting film I've ever seen of it's type. The images that it shows will stay with every viewer forever, they are unforgettable. Yet, you will wish you could forget them.

The film is about a group of rich Fascists during WWII-Nazi Occupied Italy, where they kidnap a group of 18 youngsters, allowing only physically perfect specimins to stay, and subject them to various forms of mental, physical and sexual torture over the next 120 Days. The torture starts off in a sexual nature--Sodomy, rape, humiliation and so on-- and slowly degrades and descends into mental and physical torture. Just when you think what you are seeing can't get worse, it does, ten-fold.

What makes Salo so brutally shocking and disturbing is its uncompromised and blunt way of showing the acts of horror. It is a very quiet and slow film, mostly shot using static and still cameras, it feels more like a documentary than a fictional film. It's clear upon viewing, that Pasolini wanted to remind us all that violence should not be entertainment. As such, every act of violence and degredation is drained of all its possible energy and excitement, and shown in a sad, painful light. Nothing is sugar coated, nothing is softened. This film is an attack on our desensitized feelings towards violence. Yet, at the same time, the film purposely desensitizes us to certain acts -- Such as rape. We see it so much during the film that it becomes "normality" to us, we barely raise an eyebrow. Upon realizing this, one also realizes how the horrible acts shown in the film are possible, and it's a terrible realization.

Salo continues to descend until at the end, when we are taken to the punishing grounds, where various rule breakers are tortured and murdered. This final sequence is the most harrowing and effective I've ever seen in a film. As the victims are tortured and murdered, each one of the fascist rulers take turns as voyer, watching from a second story window, far enough away to not hear the screams of terror and pain. And we watch with him. The film attempts to equate our viewing of this film to their viewing of the executions, after all, we're watching these acts for "entertainment", just as he is. And we distance ourselves from the acts in order to enjoy them, as he does by watching through binoculars far away. It's a savage and truthful attack, one that is impossible to deny.

Also incredibly unsettling is the inherent joy that the villains (Heroes?) feel at their victims pain, sadness and discomfort. Sometimes even to the point of sexual arousal. There is a scene where a girl is crying because her mother died trying to save her from these people. She is completely naked as she weeps, to us, she's the picture of vulnerability and sadness, to the fascists, it's the most exciting thing they've seen all day. The fascists all stand and watch her weep with the utmost sexualexcitement. It is terrifying. It's scenes like these that set Salo apart from other "gross out" movies. Some of the most affecting and frightening scenes are ones where there is quiet, watching the expressions and reactions of people to the various horrible acts.

Salo is a film of rage and sadness. It is a film that asks you to hate humanity, to hate what we're capable of; to look in the mirror and hate yourself. Then weep because nothing can be done about it. Nothing will ever change..

Speak the name in some circles and you'll be greeted with cries of derision and condemnation. In others, you'll be told it's one of the most important, powerful films ever made. There may be no movie so infamous or so hotly contested as Pier Paolo Pasolini's last film 'Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom.'

Inspired by 'The 120 Days of Sodom, or the School of Libertinage' by the Marquis de Sade, the film is set in Italy during WWII and follows four fascists named The Duke, The Magistrate, The President and The Bishop. Alongside their barbaric troupe of acolytes, they put a group of eighteen children through a Dantesque cycle of torture and perversion.

Completely unremitting in its' depiction of depravity and offering the viewer no respite from scenes of brutality at any point during its' runtime, the film makes for a fascinatingly violent viewing experience that is uncomfortable and unforgettable.

It may be easier to start discussing the definitive positive elements of the movie. The cinematography and shot construction is undeniably beautiful and artistic. The images on screen are strange, perverse and off-putting, but captured with style and skill behind the camera- a credit to the work of cinematographer Tonino Delli Colli. The stirring soundtrack makes effective use of pieces by Chopin, Bach and others, while Ennio Morricone's original score is haunting.

The film also benefits from having a cast full of dedicated, brave performers, whose work lingers in the mind long after the film has ended. The actors playing the four fascist libertines are all outlandishly, disgustingly terrific, with Giorgio Cataldi and Aldo Valetti being particularly memorable as The Bishop and The President respectively. As one of their accomplices, Hélène Surgère also does admirable work, but it's hard to appreciate the performances when the characters are so detestable and despicable and the actions they perform so thoroughly base.

This is the problem with the whole film actually: it's hard to appreciate because Pasolini was so committed to showing the audience nothing but cruelty. 'Salò' could be seen as an allegory about the corrupting effect of absolute power, of the extreme savagery man is capable of when they have no inhibitions, shame or empathy. By showing us nothing but repetitive scenes of torture to illustrate this theme, though, the film seems a little cursory in its' examinations of same. A cynical critic might say it's a very one-note movie, that note being one of sadism, pain and disgust.

On the other hand, one might say that it is important for artists like Pasolini to hold truth to power in their work. While the film is based on the writings of the Marquis de Sade, by updating the film to a WWII setting, Pasolini can make commentary on the barbarism of the fascists during that war.

When the allies were liberating concentration camps, lampshades made with human skin were found. The twisted, unnecessarily cruel experiments Dr. Josef Mengele performed on children are well documented, as well as other countless acts of sadism undertaken by the fascists who enjoyed absolute power at the time.

One could say Pasolini is giving us an account of the viciousness that took place during WWII that cannot be forgotten or obfuscated by history- the film will always be around to remind us of where humanity went wrong. Except, 'Salò' is largely confined to an isolated mansion, which sets the proceedings apart from the war or real life. This gives the film an odd, otherworldly feeling that in turn makes trying to contemporize or understand it in a real-world context incredibly difficult and somewhat pointless, even if that is what Pasolini intended.

Say what you will about 'Salò', it does make you think and will certainly make you feel something- it is a visceral and intellectual experience. It's also a thoroughly uncomfortable one, featuring nearly two hours of torture and sexual perversion with no break for the viewer from the unceasing depravity whatsoever. It's not a film someone will say they enjoyed- and if they do be wary of that person- but it can be somewhat rewarding.

It is certainly unique and deserves its' infamous reputation as one of the most challenging pieces of cinema ever made. It is a film that will likely provoke different reactions from everyone who sees it- some will hate it and others will hail it as a masterpiece.

There are those of us whose feelings about the film are constantly in flux, who think they can see what Pasolini intended but don't think his ideas were expressed as eloquently as they could have been. Whatever the case and whatever your feelings are on the film, 'Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom' is an uncompromising journey into a world of depravity that is sure to leave an indelible impression on the viewer.

Reportedly, when the executives of one, now defunct, American film company saw "Saló", which they helped co-finance and had distribution rights on, they were so disturbed and embarrassed that they didn't know what to do. Are we going to release this thing? With our company name on it? Where?

They had to show that they released it somewhere in the U.S. or territories.

So they did. In a small theater in El Condado area near San Juan, Puerto Rico.

There's where I saw it. In the mid-70's. With the film company's name on it.

Is it any good? Well, I'm no great admirer of Pasolini. Frankly, I find his movies intolerable. And "Saló" is no exception. But, unlike his Trilogy of Life ("The Decameron", "Canterbury Tales", "Arabian Nights") where he at least displayed some flair and humor, this one is a different animal.

His style was always somewhat ponderous. In "Saló" it is heavily, oppressively didactic: static tableaux-style framing, a deliberately slow pace, no humor whatsoever, and actors who don't play characters but conceits. Although Pasolini uses De Sade's "120 Days of Sodom" as scaffolding and as a pointed commentary, "Saló" is actually based on real events that happened in the Republic of Saló in Northern Italy, where a group of wealthy fascists abducted a large group of young men and women, went on to debase them, and after they were done with them they killed them. Pasolini staged all the scenes as demonstrations of degradation and cruelty. And he does not flinch.

At the end he includes a bibliography.

It's an unpleasant experience.

Clearly, Pasolini, an award-winning poet and one of the leading intellectuals of his time, was very angry when he did this moving picture. He wanted to send a message to Italy and to the world.

It was his last film.

Months later he was murdered.

After several weeks of being in release, the theater was raided by our local vice authorities.

Pier Paolo Pasolini, as is well known, was murdered not long after he finished work on this, his most audacious and confrontational film, yet even the most casual viewing of SALO begs the question - had he not been murdered, would he have taken his own life anyway? Every sequence, every shot and practically every moment of this film is so burdened with despair, barely concealed rage and a towering disgust with the human race, one gets the impression that Pasolini was barely hanging onto life - and any attendant shreds of hope - by his fingernails. Although ostensibly an adaptation of one of DeSade's most depraved works channeled through the horrifying excesses of the Second World War with the Fascist ruling classes as its (authentically vile) villains, SALO also contains a lot of contemporary criticism - Pasolini hated the modern world, and explained the stomach-churning 'banquet of s**t' as a none-too-subtle attack on the encroaching global domination of the fast food chains. (The scenes of sexual excess can similarly be read as a despairing attack on the permissive society - those who come to SALO expecting titillation or B-movie sleaze will be sorely disappointed.) Beyond the nihilistic content, which has been well documented elsewhere, the film has an overall mood that seems to have been engineered to make the viewer thoroughly depressed. Shot on washed-out, faded film stock using primarily static cameras, long shots, choppy editing and very few cutaways, SALO has a visual style reminiscent of cinema-verite documentary. Add to this the unnerving use of big band music, piano dirges and the (intentionally?) scrappy post-dubbed dialogue, and the distancing effect on the viewer is complete. SALO comes across as one long primal scream of rage, designed to shake the viewer out of his complacency, and in this respect, the film succeeds unequivocally. Whether or not you would care to watch this more than once, or indeed for 'entertainment', is another matter, but SALO is an important film that demands a careful viewing ONLY by those prepared for it.

Pasolini made it quite clear in several texts that this is not an anti-fascist film, but rather that fascism is a symbol for something far more pervasive. He ultimately saw himself as a committed director, and thus all of his historical films are about the present, and this film was made in the 70's, not in the 40's. It is rather an anti-bourgeois film. (Pasolini's political enemies at the time were not fascists at all, but the Christian Democrats)...Furthermore it is NOT a defense of Sade, but an apology for his earlier writings and films which mythicized acts of violence and glorified them as the pure, unconscious, pre-verbal expression of the subproletariat. However Pasolini saw the riots of the bourgeois students in 1968 as nihilistic acts of revolt, not revolution--a revolt of the Bourgeoise against itself, as his poetry makes clear. He watched in horror as he saw his vision of true revolution twisted into a childish and merely destructive tantrum against the previous generation. And so it is the Bourgeoise, symbolized by Fascism, which he represents and condemns in Salo, in the guise of what he considered to be a medieval morality play. And it is in this context that he apologizes for having made statements like "Only a bloodbath can save the world" (1962), which is quoted in the film. Yet, like everything else, it has been appropriated by the bourgeoise, who misinterpret it first as Nietzsche, then as St. Paul, until it gets reduced to a merely absurdist Dada interpretation. The characters are continually misinterpreting the many structuralist citations, because they have no history. History has been destroyed, and thus Pasolini is trying to re-introduce it in the film. The revolution, by 1968, was impossible, as there was nobody left to fight it. The bourgeoise, Pasolini lamented, had subsumed everything into itself-there was no "other", only a technological god-like and all-inclusive power structure. But what is most shocking is that it is the Sadean libertarianism and the permissivness of that class that Pasolini finds most disturbing. He held that the permissiveness of the "anarchy of power" was more tyrannical than repression. He was most traumitized, oddly, by the increasing tolerance of homosexuals. And so truely Pasolini takes the side of Dante, not Sade. And finally, its ultimately a film about misinterpretation. What the characters say and what they do (as in Sade) are incongruent. He knew that he was to be misunderstood by his Bourgeois audience, as it misunderstood itself, Pasolini said that it was intrinsic that Salo remain enigmatic (on the model of Dante), and this is the film's real genius. Judging by most of these reviews, Pasolini made his point.