Download (12MB) - University of Salford Institutional Repository

Download (12MB) - University of Salford Institutional Repository Download (12MB) - University of Salford Institutional Repository

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attached to the filmic narrative in an overdetermined fashion to elicit an intellectual consideration of the implications of Alfredo's gesture, the mise-en-scene uses diegetic space to establish a principle of confrontation. Consequently Alfredo's entrance introduces a new narrative event, that of his assumption of power, and it also emblemizes the sense of continuity with his father's domineering role in the relationships that he is going to establish, despite his earlier repugnance to it. Another example of Bertolucci's metaphorical use of space can be seen in the sequence in which the young Fabrizio Pioppi enters a cottage where Attila and Regina are having an intimate encounter. The boy is disoriented and stands immobile hoping not to be seen. But Attila, perceiving a presence, drags him in. The use of space symbolizes the danger of being drawn in too close to the true face of Fascism and its brutality; the boy's fateful entrance causes Attila's warped consciousness to plumb new depths, and the 'new event", in theatrical terms, is a horrific escalation of violence which sets the tone for the rest of the film. The staged presentation guides viewers beyond cognitive anticipations of the subsequent plot developments, inviting them to perceive the three characters as embodiments of social forces (the impressionable citizen, the violent, ambitious Fascist and sections of the landowning class) that interacted in that historical period. Affective, cognitive and intellectual implications of the theatrical performances The significance that can be derived from Bertolucci's stylized closed camera framings in terms of conveying political reflections also extends to the actors' delivery of their lines. The artifice in the performances of Dominique Sanda (Ada) and Donald Sutherland (Attila) is light years away from Brando's intense method acting in Last Tango in Paris, and its emphatic nature appears designed to distance viewers emotionally from the screen events. Regarding the character of Ada, Alfredo's wife, Sanda's theatricality echoes the style of an early 20th century Italian actress, Eleonora Duse, and it connotes the kind of bourgeois individual who was educated (Ada is well aware of the crude ignorance of Fascism and its 210

followers), sensitive (she relates to the peasants' hardships), yet unable to take any confrontational initiative. However, the most politically significant examples of the film's theatrical recitation are arguably two key monologues. The first one, performed by Romolo Valli as Giovanni (Alfredo's father), establishes the landowners as the cause of the escalating violence that propelled the Fascists into power. The sequence featuring his monologue depicts a political meeting being held in a church, a dramatic staging which is reminiscent of T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral (1934) given the nature of the environment and the immoral nature of the activities occurring there. Other aspects of the mise-en-scene condition the scene's political significance. Giovanni wears a fur coat which gives him an aura of affluent dominance; he stands before the landowners who are seated, and encourages them to set up an illegal force to punish the rebellious peasants. Valli's low, sibilant deliver}' evokes the idea of a devil or snake, the character's poisonous thoughts infecting the audience. The menacing ambience is heightened by low-key lighting to create areas of shadow, a technique that also emphasizes Attila's unsettling appearance from behind a pillar, a manifestation of the evil forces that Giovanni has been awakening with his speech. The film unequivocally points to the landowners as the group with the primary moral and political responsibility for unleashing Fascist violence on an unwary local population, and this perspective is reiterated by the second monologue, assigned to Donald Sutherland/Attila. Its significance is underlined by the way Bertolucci cues anticipation of it from viewers; first, the camera gradually moves closer to the actor, framing his face in close-up, and then it lingers on his empty gaze. At this point, Sutherland's delivery conditions the content of his monologue, as, with a resonant whisper, Attila reflects on the relationship between the greedy, cynical landowners and the Fascist squad members whom Attila likens to dogs to which the landowners throw leftovers. Then, laughing contemptuously at the bourgeoisie's inability to understand the hatred that 211

followers), sensitive (she relates to the peasants' hardships), yet unable to take any<br />

confrontational initiative.<br />

However, the most politically significant examples <strong>of</strong> the film's theatrical recitation are<br />

arguably two key monologues. The first one, performed by Romolo Valli as Giovanni<br />

(Alfredo's father), establishes the landowners as the cause <strong>of</strong> the escalating violence that<br />

propelled the Fascists into power. The sequence featuring his monologue depicts a political<br />

meeting being held in a church, a dramatic staging which is reminiscent <strong>of</strong> T.S. Eliot's<br />

Murder in the Cathedral (1934) given the nature <strong>of</strong> the environment and the immoral nature<br />

<strong>of</strong> the activities occurring there. Other aspects <strong>of</strong> the mise-en-scene condition the scene's<br />

political significance. Giovanni wears a fur coat which gives him an aura <strong>of</strong> affluent<br />

dominance; he stands before the landowners who are seated, and encourages them to set up<br />

an illegal force to punish the rebellious peasants. Valli's low, sibilant deliver}' evokes the idea<br />

<strong>of</strong> a devil or snake, the character's poisonous thoughts infecting the audience. The menacing<br />

ambience is heightened by low-key lighting to create areas <strong>of</strong> shadow, a technique that also<br />

emphasizes Attila's unsettling appearance from behind a pillar, a manifestation <strong>of</strong> the evil<br />

forces that Giovanni has been awakening with his speech. The film unequivocally points to<br />

the landowners as the group with the primary moral and political responsibility for<br />

unleashing Fascist violence on an unwary local population, and this perspective is reiterated<br />

by the second monologue, assigned to Donald Sutherland/Attila. Its significance is underlined<br />

by the way Bertolucci cues anticipation <strong>of</strong> it from viewers; first, the camera gradually moves<br />

closer to the actor, framing his face in close-up, and then it lingers on his empty gaze. At this<br />

point, Sutherland's delivery conditions the content <strong>of</strong> his monologue, as, with a resonant<br />

whisper, Attila reflects on the relationship between the greedy, cynical landowners and the<br />

Fascist squad members whom Attila likens to dogs to which the landowners throw leftovers.<br />

Then, laughing contemptuously at the bourgeoisie's inability to understand the hatred that<br />

211

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