Les Damnés

I had to hunt for this video, but found it quite surprisingly at my local independent video store. Having recently seen Helmut Berger in in the film Ludwig, I was curious to see him in this role which apparently was his "introduction" to film. He is an amazing actor and while there were many disturbing moments in this film he was true to his character. I saw the character of Martin as not so much "damned" but as a "fallen" being: tortured by his own inner impulses, his feelings of rejection by his mother, etc. which culminate in providing perfect figure for Nazi terror. It is a shame that Helmut Berger has not received more recognition in the US. There are so many international actors who are almost complete unknowns in the states. Sad. I love Visconti's use of dark lighting and shadows. In this film as in Ludwig it added to the already "dark" subject matter, and is a visual treat.

Pauline Kael famously called this movie "hysterical" (she was contrasting it to Bertolucci's *The Conformist*, which was supposed to be more "lyrical".) Well, a movie about decadent Nazis is bound to be a little hysterical -- what, were you expecting something tasteful? Hysteria is probably the best mode with which to treat the Third Reich. What's astounding is that director Luchino Visconti forced his sweaty, hysterical visuals into a rigid classical structure. The set-up is pure clockwork: one betrayal leading to another; one devastation opening up an even deeper abyss for another perpetrator.

Basically, Visconti is taking on *Macbeth*, here. Dirk Bogarde plays the Macbeth figure, an up-and-coming industrialist who's sleeping with an evil Grande Dame of Nazi finance, Sophie von Essenbeck (Ingrid Thulin, having an absolute ball), heiress to a munitions conglomerate. (The von Essenbecks are loosely based on the Krupps, but don't take this as any sort of literal historiography.) Thulin eggs on her lover Bogarde to commit a few politic murders and a frame-up or two so that he can take over the family business, with herself as the power behind the throne. But she doesn't count on the pathology of her grown son from a previous marriage, the hideous little monster Martin (Helmut Berger, acting terribly but it sort of fits in an Udo Kier-sort of way). Martin is your typical Nazi: a closet pedophile, a drug addict, a transvestite, a momma's-boy, a you-name-it. The scenes involving his seduction of a 9- or 10-year-old girl who lives in a shabby apartment complex are some of the most disturbing that you'll ever see in cinema . . . and along those lines, I seriously wonder about the state of mind of some of the commentators here who find this movie to be high camp, to be watched with drinking buddies. If you think molestation is funny, you'd better see a shrink, pal.

Anyway. The plot is so Byzantine that it finally defeats a brief summary. Let it suffice to say that Visconti manages to cram his complicated story neatly within the historical context of the period between the Reichstag Fire and the Night of the Long Knives, thereby maintaining a nutty observance of Classical Unities. All the while, he films the thing in Hammer-horror Pop color, with intense contrast between shadow and light. The first scene, by the way, is a shot of the blasting furnaces of the munitions factory -- a fitting intro to the horrendous vision of depravity which soon follows. Everyone's sweating in this movie: drops of perspiration trickle down temples, and beads of sweat glisten on upper lips throughout, as if the flames of Hell are licking up at the soles of their collective feet. *The Damned* is a feverish masterpiece. You'll never forget it. Highest recommendation.

(A tip for viewing of the DVD: I recommend that you watch the movie with the English subtitles ON. While everyone speaks English in the film, only Bogarde is clearly intelligible. Owing to the complicated plot, you'll need to know what's going on in order to fully appreciate Visconti's thematic design.)

Visconti's bizarre examination of a powerful and wealthy family whose downfall both parallels the rise and foreshadows the fall of the Third Reich is never less than entertaining, it has to be said. Certainly not to the tastes of all, it seems to revel in the decadence and debauchery it portrays in much the same way a tabloid paper feels it has to publish dozens of photographs of the pornography it pretends to condemn. Look how depraved these incestuous cross-dressing Nazis were; apart from one pious voice the whole nation, it seems, is condemned with one broad stroke and we are given no contrast against which to compare such depravity.

The characters of the Von Essenbach family are each representative of a facet of 30s German character, all joined in a desire for power or the need to be protected beneath its wing, prone to making strident and unyielding demands and dismissing the rights of those who stand in their way. This leaves us with a morally repugnant lot, none of whom we can empathise with, and also tempts the cast to overact at times. Ingrid Thulin is particularly guilty, and even the usually laconic Dirk Bogarde becomes overwrought at times.

For all these faults, the film is shamelessly entertaining and fascinating to watch. It plays like a Shakespearian tragedy at times, and you feel compelled to see it through to the end just to find out the fate of each character.

The great Luchino Visconti concocts a stunning banquet of horrors with some of his favorite gourmet dishes: the corruption and decadence of the upper classes, incest, mamma's boys and monstrous/fascinating mothers. The setting this time is National Socialist Germany where the perversions find their perfect home. There is, however, a slight but disturbing enjoyment of the whole putrid thing. Visconti's extraordinary attention to detail requires more than a couple of viewings. Ingrid Thulin's hairstyles are a masterpiece on their own. After Ingman Bergman, Visconti gives her her most showy role. She's a pervert's mother if I ever saw one. Magnificent in her over the top understatement. Creepy Helmut Berger is perfect here. Even his real voice adds to the luridness of his character. In "Ludwig" he was dubbed by Giancarlo Giannini transforming his third rate talent into something,seemingly, transcendental. Dirk Bogarde, Charlotte Rampling, Umberto Orsini plus the gorgeous Renaud Verley and Florinda Bolkan contribute considerably to the rigid and humorless vision of one of the greatest aesthetes the movies have ever known.

it is the precise reflection of Visconti obsessions. in direct manner. using the aestheticism at the last consequences. and the perfect actors. like silhouettes of a decadent survive form. after its end, the only memory is the powerful flavors. and the scene of the massacre. and Helmuth Berger like more than Ludwig. and, sure, the portrait of mother by Ingrid Thulin. a film like embroidery of symbols and slices of nightmares. or, a form of exorcism. impressive scene by scene. as fall of a world.