• L’Eclisse

8/28/24 (Wed)

Antonioni’s 1962 film was part of the Alain Delon series offered by Criterion following his death last week. It’s one of those “movies you must see before you die”, which usually puts me off, and I wasn’t planning to watch any more Antonioni works in particular after the enigmatic Blow-Up. Nevertheless, the Delon connection and the film’s critical reputation persuaded me to give it another try.

Vittoria breaks up with her intellectual boyfriend in a long, nearly silent scene. When she visits the Rome Stock Exchange to see her mother, a passionate investor, she meets the mom’s young, handsome and hyperactive broker Piero. They fall in love, but both appear tentative about the relationship; she tells him cryptically, “I wish I didn’t love you or that I loved you much more.” It’s not even clear whether they ever seal the deal. In the end, they agree to meet at a certain spot, but the film implies in a random set of images that neither shows up.

The film seems to be trying to capture the ennui of a certain class (Vittoria and her friends) in the face of crass materialism (Piero and the stock market). Vittoria’s troubles are very much first-world concerns: she gets no kick on a private plane piloted for her pleasure by her friend’s husband, and, in an eye-opening scene, passes the time painting her body black and performing her version of a Masai dance with a friend just back from Kenya (who compares the natives to monkeys). She wants to feel more passion, as noted, but can’t bring herself to do so. Her loneliness is self-imposed from a failure to act.

Meanwhile, Piero loves the game of the stock market, which is recreated in thrilling detail (though it could have been shorter), apparently using actual brokers as extras. He uses money to make more money, which becomes his entire world. When a drunk steals his car and dies in an accident, his only concern is the damage to his car. His reluctance in the relationship may stem from his inability to harbor an emotion without measurable value.

All of which is fine in theory, but the filmmaker gives little away. The initial breakup is shown practically in mime, making it hard to get invested in the characters, and Vittoria’s character remains inscrutable throughout, though that may be the point. I think this is supposed to be cool, but it creates an unwelcome distancing effect. I cared nothing for these people, especially with Vittoria’s irritating refusal to give in to her carnal feelings, and with a young Delon no less. The diffuse narrative is secondary to atmosphere. The interaction among the characters is not uninteresting but doesn’t seem to go anywhere, and the many stunning shots, like the car being lifted out of the lake with the dead man’s hand jutting out, seem unconnected somehow.

The celebrated ending is a seven-minute sequence of shots evidently of places that the lovers had been before, shorn of all life and activity. I didn’t realize this was supposed to mean that they never showed up for their tryst until I read the reviews later. The headlines referring to a potential nuclear war were presumably there for a reason, but I’m not sure why, though it matched the eerily empty streets. The film is too obscure for its own good.

Monica Vitti and Delon are both fine as the lovers. Delon, who spoke fluent Italian, was apparently dubbed for the role anyway but was totally convincing both as a young Italian and a high-wired stock broker. Kudos as well to Lilla Brignone as Vittoria’s stock-obsessed mother and the Kenyan-born Mirella Ricciardi as the friend from Kenya. The cinematography was fantastic – black and white never looked so good. I’m amazed they were able to capture Rome and Verona with such few people in certain scenes. The scenes were each carefully constructed by Antonioni, including the iconic symbolic shot of the lovers on each side of a massive pillar.

The film is ultimately a love story without love. It’s interesting mainly as a statement of its time.