La classe operaia va in paradiso

Young radicals come in to organize a factory, which the company resists. The company stooge, Lulu is an older, super-competent machinist, the person whose production sets the company's impossible standard for the rest of the workers. He gets so upset and distracted as a result of the alienation of his peers, he cuts a finger off. The company abandons him as he recuperates, and he joins the struggle of the workers and the radicals who've come to organize them. The student and radical activists eventually get distracted by a new campaign, abandoning the workers in the battle they helped organize. It should be shown to all community organizers to help create respect for those on whom they depend for support of progressive initiatives.

Elio Petri is one of the most important Italian directors: he made some wonderful films about mafia, politics, justice and social equality. Gian Maria Volontè is, in my opinion, the best actor of the last decades of Twentieth Century in Italy: hot-tempered, brutal, passionate, he infuses these traits to his characters. Together, they are an explosive duet. LA CLASSE OPERAIA VA IN PARADISO tells the story of Ludovico "Lulù" Massa, a workaholic machinist who loses his finger in a machine: with his finger, he loses himself, he suffers from alienation and tiredness. But I don't want to spoil anything. The actors are wonderful: Gian Maria Volontè and Mariangela Melato as Lulu's mistress, Lidia, are like a time-bomb, absolutely perfect, both forceful characters. The dirty and denatured cinematography by Luigi Kuvellier, the monotonous and dreary production design by the future Academy Awards winner Dante Ferretti and the repetitive and disturbing score by Ennio Morricone help to build the alienating life of a worker in a big, inhuman factory. And then there's the nervous and indignant direction by Petri that blends everything. It should be screened more often, especially in the schools, but I'm pretty sure that modern Italian boys and girls won't understand this film and, as a result, won't appreciate it.

A diligent blue-collar worker Lulù Massa (Gian Maria Volonté) is averse to rebellious fractions within his working place and students who express their resentment of overwhelming physical labour which Lulù and co-workers are constrained to do in factories. Notwithstanding, one day, once he loses his finger in his factory and discerns the first symptoms of madness in his behaviour, he becomes involved in protestations which the scathing board of directors frowns upon…

This is a politically-tinged, existential drama par excellence which succeeds in being both insightful and poignant in its exploration of human condition in the Italian working class whose members are destined for solely biological existence. The stark portrayal of the pointlessness of life reminiscent of Woman in the Dunes (1964) by Hiroshi Teshigahara. Mr Petri, whose political propensities are fully evident here, passionately crafts this material and engrossingly displays the everyday dilemmas of physical labourers whose actions come to eating, drinking and doing their work which is humiliatingly and moronically simple. The frequent juxtaposition of a man and a factory infuses into this film gloom and dreariness which is difficult to bear with. The indication that one might sweep away the meaningless of an individual only through sexual consolation is very disquieting and the depiction of the sombreness and the repetitiveness of each day of life solidifies the sepulchral tone. Just like Petri's earlier I giorni contati (1962), The Working Class Goes to Heaven is a blend of existentialism and neorealism polished to perfection in Petri's hands whose meticulous stylization renders the concept as sulky and austere as the sterile, industrialized decor of Il deserto rosso (1964) by Michelangelo Antonioni. Lulù Massa – the main character of this flick –is the outcome of the mechanization of the unit whose productivity is the only value for his employer. Lulù is the most assiduous worker which arouses abhorrence in his colleagues. He does not attach any great importance to his mental and physical health and he thinks that there is no big difference between dying in his factory and somewhere else. Initially, he cannot comprehend why everybody is against him, but once he accidentally loses his finger and notices that he embarks on following the lane of insanity through his obsessive demeanour towards order, he regains his sight and perceives the world differently.

Even though The Working Class Goes to Heaven is not as Kafkaesque as The Assassin (1961) and Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion (1970), it appears to refer to Kafka's short story A Report to an Academy which is about an ape which learns to behave like a human. During his visit in a mental institution where he meets a veteran ex-blue collar Militina, Lulù is shown an article from a newspaper which recounts a story of a chimpanzee which believes in its humanity. Petri seems to liken the Kafka's ape and Lulù, notwithstanding, whilst the monkey from Kafka's tale obtains a new identity by approving of milieu repressing it and adjusting to its new entourage, Lulù Massa restores his personality on account of a calamity and the stifling milieu of his factory, hence, just like in case of Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion, Mr Petri once again turns the world of Franz Kafka upside down.

Besides dilating upon the harsh fate of the working class, the director likewise hints at the exploitation of labourers from the poverty-pervaded southern Italy. Other Italian intelectualists such as Pier Paolo Pasolini also alluded to this phenomenon. Mise-en-scene by Elio Petri is exquisite and thoroughly unfaltering in its exposing the major concept. The resonance of his last acclaimed opus is indubitably enormous. Apart from delving in the issue of alienation and helplessness, the highly flamboyant subplots reinforce the main theme and endow it with abundant background and owing to relatively deliberate pace, the content is never lunged too hastily.

The acting is simply excellent throughout the entire motion picture. Gian Maria Volonté conveys to his role such a great portion of galvanizing rampage that he ravishes with his commitment to his part which might be one the most powerful in his utter career. There are other phenomenal performers in the cast, such as facially distinctive Mariangela Melato, Flavio Bucci, and last but not least enthrallingly convincing Salvo Randone.

The subsidiary cinematography by Luigi Kuveiller is obviously a determinant of quality, but what emerges from his beauteous takes of impoverished flats of physical workers is the mutual sway between Bertolucci and Petri. Bernardo Bertolucci conceded his fascination with merging existentialism and neorealism in I giorni contati by Petri, and Petri seemed to be enchanted by the lighting and visual aspect in The Conformist (1970) which was visible in the case of The Working Class Goes to Heaven. The shots of indigent flats framed with gleams of blue radiance constitute a chilly, bitter aftertaste which exerts a beneficial impact on the other ingredients. The symbiotic soundtrack by Ennio Morricone is one of the most idiosyncratic elements and the flick would feel totally different with a distinct piece of music from another composer. Mr Morricone provides us with one of his most unusual and characteristic creations which is rapid, aggressive, contextualises with the ensemble absolutely perfectly and reverberates like a genuine machine.

Though the movie overzealously strives to inculcate Marxist doctrines in its viewers and Petri's appeal to social alignment is displayed here, it does not modify the fact that it is an exceedingly significant film which has to be analysed, discussed and considered to be a major motion picture which auspiciously encases the atmosphere of those days filled with protestations, but also exhibits a timeless struggle of a man attempting to retain dignity, despite difficult living conditions and tough work.

The movie has a great power, first of all he gives to Lulu a mechanical soul, the camera follows his unhuman movements caused by too much work and let us understand something strange like madness. Then we have the political part: outside the factory people are pemanently screaming verses against owners like another machine that creates words, but the real impressing moment is inside the factory where man and machine became the same things so that the camera let us see the hidden mechanical part and the human movements togheter; the music too (by Ennio Morricone) adds a sense of robotic condition.

This film is both fantasy and complete reality at the same time. Gian Marie Volonte plays an extremely efficient worker doing piecework in a factory, not even sure what the parts he produces are used for. At the same time, Volonte's precise rhythm and total concentration make him an object of hate amongst his fellow workers, all of him are continually time managed by snidey supervisors who mostly hide behind a yellow screen in an observation box. A large hand, index finger pointing down oppressively, is printed on the wall above the workers.

Volonte is a good worker but not good at anything else. His son lives with his ex-wife and fellow worker. He can't get it up for his girlfriend, and her little boy spends his time totally consumed by television. Exhausted from working all day, Volonte's only break from routine is to visit and colleague who has ended up in an asylum. Soon enough, Volonte begins to think that what this man is saying is making sense...

Outside the factory, radical communists screams slogans through megaphones and clash with the unions as the workers trudge in to start their shift. Volonte gets to work right away, but his fellow workers are grinding him down, and a lapse in concentration means that Volonte loses a finger and his whole world outlook changes.

Be warned, this film has so many scenes of people screaming into microphones, or crowds of people screaming at each other, that if you're not careful you'll end up with a headache. I'm guessing that might be part of intention of the film to a certain extent. With the loss of the finger Volonte loses his urge to be the best worker and starts to see how his life in the factory may not be a life at all, but all those folk screaming about smashing the system or how unity can get better rights, are they any less self-serving than those in charge at the factory?

Petri does everything he can to make the factory look like some sort of prison, continually filming through bars and even doing the same thing later with a school. Ennio Morricone's soundtrack also enforces the idea of some kind of industrial trap where the self is wiped away in place of production. The film is run down and grey on purpose, but there are a few bits of Petri's weird visuals here and there - like the strange diagram Volonte faces while getting psychologically tested.

The main reason for watching this is for Gian Marie Volonte, who comes across as a guy who isn't that smart, a man who makes an arse of everything and in losing the only thing he was good at starts unravelling. In the Italian language version you can hear how fragile and hysterical Volonte sounds. He seems to mess up just about every conversation and even when he thinks he's made the wrong choice, it dawns on him that he's not the only one that's shallow.

Good film this. Nearly two hours long though!