Zabriskie Point

Antonioni, by making this film, had assumed the role of Papa Smurf to all the little long-haired, American, radical student-Smurfs. He had taken them under the guiding protection of his European communist wings, showing appreciation and support for their confused American ways. (These Smurfs are red and wear blue, not the other way around.) The radical Smurfs were happy to get the guidance of a wise old man with gray hair who regularly preys to the God of all long-haired Smurfs, Lenin the Communist - another wise old man whose beard made the Smurfs take him even more seriously, for it symbolized something wise, though they did not quite know why they regarded the beard to have this kind of deep effect on them. Castro, another wise bearded man, has often profited from this confusion and exuded magical powers with his beard over his naive overseas admirers. (Not to mention Che Guevara: that beard has a certain je-ne-sais-pas-quoi about it, makes one want to immediately embrace Marx and his lovely, pacifistic teachings…) The film starts with a muddled meeting of radically stupid radical students, who engage in dialogues that truly redefine the word "confused". As confused as a blind-folded dog falling of a high-story building into a bottomless pit. Suddenly, the movie's "hero" (well, Antonioni's hero) rises up and says something to his pathetic left-wing peers and then leaves, hoping that this display of "mega-coolness" will improve his James Dean image and vastly increase his chances of getting laid with the best "chicks" in the next mass hippie orgy. Eventually he gets into trouble with cops (i.e. pigs) at a rally, and spends the movie under the blue American capitalist skies, looking for freedom… Or something like that.

Antonioni's predictable assault on capitalism is not only intellectually hollow, but has (or had) nothing new to offer; it's just the same old trigger-happy one-dimensional cops, businessmen discussing business deals (and what's wrong with that, isn't that how Antonioni's movies get made?), and endless shots of TV commercials and billboards advertising the oh-so morally decadent products for the abhorrent, selfish, and greedy right-wing rabble-population who thinks of no one but themselves, their families, their work, and their children.

Papa Smurf Antonioni, just like his long-haired Smurfs and Smurfettes of the late 60s, failed to notice the most obvious and vital aspect about their silly movement: they were allowed to have their laughable meetings and express their anti-establishment opinions freely within that very establishment, whereas the students in those countries whose left-wing systems they admired, did not (and still do not). By far the greatest irony about the hippies - and Antonioni, naturally, failed to realize this as well (his judgment being clouded by cocaine-snorting and an excessive intake of LSD) - is that hippies were (are) the garbage-residue of capitalism. This is an incredible irony. Only in a successfully-functioning capitalist system can you find that species called "hippie"; a spoiled, ungrateful, and selfish bunch of middle and upper-middle class losers.

The film itself seems to go on forever. Antonioni takes his sweet time with getting on with it, while including overlong scenes of pointlessness, with a high dullness factor. His attempts at symbolism are annoying and trite. His statements are highly dubious, at best. This film is Antonioni's way of saying that violent revolution is the solution. And this is what we get from an old, saturated, filthy-rich, fat film-maker who lives in villas and dines in the best French and Italian restaurants.

I don't remember seeing any major Western movie about the Tiananmen massacre of thousands of students in China. But when one Western student gets shot for waving Che Guevara's face into all our faces, we get ten major films about it at once. I suppose this means that a Chinese life is worth a thousand times less than a Western one – at least to the left-wing hypocrites who infest movies.

If you're a Marxist neo-hippy and disliked this awful review, please klick "NO" below.

This is the film in Antonioni's middle period that most critics dismiss quickly, as a 'flawed' look at 60s American youth culture/politics. For what it's worth, I found it more touching and memorable than his more acclaimed films like L'AVVENTURA, perhaps because he shows more emotion & empathy here than anywhere else. The story is simple, but it is used as a frame for Antonioni's brilliant observations of, and critique on American consumerist culture, student life, the counter-culture, and the whole anti-establishment, anti-war backlash that was so prominent then.

Even from a purely technical point of view, it is a remarkably crafted film; from the opening credits sequence to the bizarre desert 'love-in', to the use of billboards, and right down to that jaw-dropping, cathartic finale that used 17 camera set-ups (in it's own way, as powerful as the climax of The Wild Bunch). Also, Antonioni chose one hell of a leading lady with Daria Halperin, one of the most beautiful ever to grace the screen. There isn't much 'acting' involved, as this feels more like a docu-drama, and so the use of non- professionals as the lead couple works quite effectively within that context. And the soundtrack is not only filled with marvelous music, its use is impressive as well (I can't forget the start of the film, mostly due to the selection of music - by Pink Floyd - that grooms the visuals so well).

Contrary to popular opinion, this is quite an achievement in cinema, and one I would enthusiastically recommend to anyone with a taste or tolerance for the off- beat. Well worth seeking out, and one of those key films of the 60s that demands a DVD restoration/release.

These are the late 60's and the early 70's as I have always imagined. As usual Antonioni uses all the registers of communications: the sounds, the colours, the movements of the actors. You could say that the plot is not well balanced, that the dialogues are often silly and meaningless, and maybe you are right. But Antonioni is a master in evoking feelings, simple, rough feelings, using all the tools a filmmaker has.

The movie has some jewels, and among them the most shining are the 10 final minutes. The oneiric explosion sequence, with the music that comes and goes, with the time expanded and slowed down, with the kitsch colours of meaningless objects moving upward in the blue sky. In the movie history this is one of the best images of the explosive and destructive power of the ingenuity of that generation, that wanted to live changing the existing rules. Playing with colour, time, sounds and music Antonioni has given once more a proof of his unforgettable art: he is at the same time a painter, a music composer, a dancer, a poet.

I was told it was one of those "either you love it or you hate it" movies. Well, I loved it. Obvious hippie-era, dated and easy symbolism and all. So, I probably have no taste at all when it comes to Antonioni, but this and La Notte (made exactly a decade earlier) are my favourites among his movies so far. Made two years before I was born, Zabriskie Point was supposed to have been Michelangelo's great American epic. But apparently, it turned out to be a flop. I really can't see why. Before watching it I'd read that it was rather boring, so I braced myself for a very slow movie - though I love me a slow movie. For my taste, Zabriskie didn't have a tedious minute in it. While watching it, I made a mental note of how European it was on the director's part to make such frequent use of advertisement billboards in almost every urban scene, enormous billboards dwarfing any human form in sight. This recurrent visual element is obviously there to underline the way that consumerism crushes the individual in American society. But then I watched L'Eclisse straight afterwards, which is set in Rome in the early 60s, and noticed that Antonioni often included billboards in it as well. After all, the masterful use of landscapes, architecture and inanimate objects in each frame with or without human beings is an Antonioni trademark – this is precisely the way that he evokes his characters' psychological states, with more or less understated power and great visual impact. He is virtually unsurpassed in this skill.

Zabriskie Point starred two very appealing leads that should have become big stars of the 70s, but never did. Mark Frechette, whom I'd already seen in Francesco Rosi's fine WWI-set movie Uomini Contro, had a very tragic life and died aged just 27. According to his biography page, he donated his $60,000 earnings from Zabriskie to a commune. Mark's co-star Daria Halprin, apparently also Dennis Hopper's wife later on, has the stunning, natural beauty and appeal of a young Ornella Muti – one of those luminous beauties that don't need a shred of make-up to turn heads. Like Frechette, she has only graced a couple of obscure movies and has never become a star, but at least she didn't die tragically. Most notably, Zabriskie Point contains one of the most original sex scenes ever filmed - one that brings home a sense of youthful playfulness like few I've seen - as well as a powerfully cathartic ending. It may be the most banal sequence ever filmed as far as its symbolism goes, but I can't see how anyone can deny its beauty and wonderful sense of emotional release. Never has an explosion looked so good, and so poetic. It seems to be an explosion that restores order rather than bringing chaos.

About two hundred members of a Cleveland, Ohio USA film society, named Cinematheque, gathered on August 19, 2000 to view a pristine Cinemascope print of Michelangelo Antonioni's 1970 film, "Zabriskie Point." Cinematheque Director John Ewing, who does a superlative job of obtaining the finest prints for his series, shared with the audience beforehand that this print was specially flown over from Italy for this one showing only.

The audience was held spellbound as the film unfolded its artisty on the huge panoramic screen. Watching this superb print, shown the way Antonioni intended, made one aware that this is indeed a modern art work. It was all the more fitting that the series is housed in the Cleveland Insititue of Art in University Circle.

Antonioni's compositions are created for the Cinemascope landscape. His beautiful balancing of images, striking use of colors, sweeping choreographic movements, all are the work of a genuine artist, using the screen as his canvas.

At last the audience could understand "Zabriskie Point." As its narrative unfolded, it became obvious that this work is not about story per se, but rather an artist's impressionistic rendering of fleeting images of his subject. The setting of some of the more turbulent activities of the sixties provides only a dramatic motor for the artist's sweeping collage.

Antonioni is not bound by conventional narrative standards, and can pause at any point to creatively embroider an event with grandiose embellishments. The audience willingly went with the flow of his remarkable imagination, as his huge images on the massive canvas held one in rapt attention. While the audience may have been only tangentially involved in character relationships, it realized the theme here is human aleination, the director's recurring theme.

It was also realized that no print any smaller or of lesser quality than this original one in Cinemascope can do justice to this particular rendering. The audience was therefore all the more appreciative of viewing "Zabriskie Point" in its original, breathtaking format, and broke into thunderous applause at the end.