Film Review
Luchino Visconti concluded his remarkable career with a
characteristically opulent period piece that easily merits a place
alongside some of his better known works,
Il Gattopardo (1963) and
Ludwig
(1972). Adapted from Gabriele D'Annunzio's 1892 novel of
the same title,
L'Innocente
is another scathing portrait of the social mores in the dying years of
the 19th century, but one so steeped in character detail and humanity
that we cannot help but sympathise with the flawed central protagonist,
a libertine who is driven to commit the most heinous of crimes for
purely selfish motives. As with much of Visconti's work, you
cannot help feeling that, whilst the film is set in another epoch, it
has a modern political subtext. It is worth noting that abortion
was a hot topic in the 1970s and was not legalised in Italy until two
years after the film was made. (Divorce had only been legalised
in Italy in 1970).
Visconti is renowned for the exquisite artistry he brings to his films
but
L'Innocente has a
ravishing beauty that surpasses almost anything in his oeuvre.
Despite his failing health (he was confined to a wheelchair as he made
the film and died before he could complete it), Visconti exercises such
precision and control over his mise-en-scène that there is
scarcely a scene in the film that fails to impress with the perfection
of its composition. The camerawork, lighting, set design and
performances achieve a synchronicity of elegance that is every bit as
impressive as the complex inner workings of the finest antique
clock. Visconti must have known that this would be his last film,
and this must have provided an added impetus for him to make it as
perfect as possible.
L'Innocente doesn't just look
good, it also delivers a powerful emotional charge and is one of
Visconti's most involving films, perhaps because it is so narrow in
scope, focussing on the fraught relationship of just three characters,
that holy trinity of Italian cinema: the husband, his wife and his
mistress. Visconti had wanted Alain Delon to take the lead role
of the husband, Tullio Hermil, but the actor was already contracted to
star in Joseph Losey's
Monsieur Klein (1976).
Giancarlo Giannini is a more than adequate substitute, having, like
Delon, a suave ambiguity that allows him to be both sinister and
sympathetic, remote and intimate.
Giannini's Tullio is a despicable egoist, driven by impulses that make
him appear narcissistic and irrational, and yet we see him not as a
villain but as a victim - a man whose desire to live as freely as
possible is frustrated by having to live within a society that is
governed by dubious Catholic morality and a social code that represses
all true human feeling. The performances of Giannini and his
co-star Laura Antonelli are subtly expressive of the conflict between
the desire to love freely and the necessity to do so within the narrow
confines permitted by the Church and upper class society.
Tullio's actions may appear perverse, but are they any more perverse
than the dictates of the world in which he lives? At the mercy of
desires he cannot control, Tullio becomes 'the innocent' of the film's
title - as blameless as the infant he feels he must slaughter in order
to preserve the most immaculate thing he has known, his love for his
wife. Tullio's transgressions may be hard to fathom, but they
reflect the failings inherent in a society that imposes too tight a
control on individual freedom. As he bids farewell, Visconti
leaves us with the sobering thought that a world without compassion and
tolerance is one that will be forever disfigured by cruel acts and
tragedy.
© James Travers 2013
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Next Luchino Visconti film:
Ossessione (1943)
Film Synopsis
In Italy towards the end of the 19th century, the wealthy Tullio Hermil
pursues a passionate love affair with his aristocratic mistress Teresa
Raffo whilst keeping up the impression that he is happily
married. Although he still has a fondness for his wife Giuliana,
he regards her more as a sister than as a lover. When he learns
that Giuliana has herself been seeing another man, the writer Filippo
d'Arborio, Tullio finds that his love for her has suddenly been
rekindled and their marriage ceases to be a chaste charade. The
discovery that Giuliana is pregnant with d'Arborio's child coincides
with the writer's untimely death. Neither Tullio nor his wife
want the child but Giuliana's Catholic beliefs prevent her from having
an abortion. When the child is born, neither of its parents can
bear to look at it. In the end, Tullio makes up his mind that it
must die...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.