L'Eclisse - Criterion Collection (1962)

The Electric Fan

**Spoilers**

L'Eclisse is essentially a love story, or at least an almost love story. Both lead actors are highly attractive and very little real conflict exists to keep them apart. Antonioni could have chosen more mundane circumstances if he simply wished to express the dullness of everyday life, or a lack of passion, or an inability to connect. Instead we are given two vibrant characters, the gorgeous blonde Vittoria, who dances and plays with dogs and laughs at drunkards, and the handsome Pierro, who works his way into a successful position in the busy world of the stock market. The characters themselves are not lacking in life or vitality. The world they exist in, however, seems to numb all passion. The streets are bare, filled with buildings rather than people, dirt rather than flowers. The passion seems to drain in the same way the rain-barrel drains at the end of the movie, dissipating into the city and becoming nothing. It seems to say, life itself has lost its vibrancy, its point. Even the stock market, the bustling center of commerce, is pointless. The shouts and phone calls never amount to anything. Antonioni gives us twenty minutes to watch this bustle, which is initially exciting, but eventually becomes mundane, like watching a trail of ants. Vittoria follows a man who has lost millions in the stock market to a café and finds that he has drawn flowers on his napkin. Not even such a loss really matters. There is a horrible inability to connect to this world. It is utterly distant from the people it contains.

The entire film is summarized in the first scene of the movie. It is a break up scene and one might expect cries or yelling, but no passion is to be found. Vittoria wanders aimlessly, rearranging the apartment. She holds up a frame, moving the objects behind it as though if she could get them just right she might be happier. She seems to echo Antonioni, framing his characters in the film. There is an interminable restlessness about her. Her hair is constantly rustling in the wind of an electric fan. She seems to be waiting for something. Perhaps for some emotion, some sign of life. As she waits the audience waits as well. There is a collective yearning for something to happen. This restlessness continues throughout the film. In the stock market there is a moment of silence for a colleague that has passed away. Even as the brokers become quiet the telephones continue to ring. Later on, when Vittoria and Pierro are achingly close to having a true moment of passion, the doorbell rings. Vittoria leaves and Pierro's telephones resume ringing. There is a continual disquiet underlying the entire film.

Perhaps what makes this film so restless is precisely the fact that is an art film. When one is continually exposed to the world of mainstream film, one becomes used to a release, a letting go. Eventually every conflict builds and releases. In L'Eclisse the basic conflict is precisely the lack of conflict. The film becomes self-reflexive. The film raises an interesting dilemma because it seems to state that unhappiness results from nothing in particular. Perhaps life consists of long blocks of unhappiness punctuated by brief periods of happiness. But the brief moments of happiness are not brought on by miraculous outside circumstances. They escape from within the characters. The little poodle, for instance, seems to distract Vittoria from the urban world's cold restlessness. She is truly happy for a brief moment before the usurping restlessness of the city reclaims her, perfectly represented here by the alien rattling of the flagpoles in the night. We see Vittoria in the darkness from a high angle as she approaches a bronze statue. The angle suddenly reverses to show the statue from below, looming over her and emphasizing the dominance of society over little Vittoria. It seems to say, "one day you too will be a statue." It is not human nature to be unhappy; the city itself suppresses happiness.

As many science fiction films like Metropolis and Blade Runner use the city as a warning of technology that may get out of hand, L'Eclisse seems to say we have already come too far. The monolithic structure looming outside Riccardo's apartment seems to be a watchtower, observing the little people below it. The apartment buildings in the distance seem to tower over Vittoria as she returns to her apartment. The only reprieve from the concrete world seems to be Pierro's parents house. It is old and cluttered with things. It feels as though somebody actually lives here. Vittoria looks out the window and sees a church letting out a crowd of people. Yet even here she is distanced. She finds Pierro's room and examines a pen. It is a novelty pen with a woman on it. As she turns the pen the woman's clothing disappears. Perhaps this is the sexuality, the playfulness that has been left behind in this old house. Pierro's room is a little blander than the other rooms. The youth has moved out. Not even here can they honestly express themselves. Pierro wants to kiss Vittoria, but she will only let him when there is a pane of glass in the way. They are so close to breaking free from the confines of the city, but once again, find themselves restrained.

The closest the couple comes to a true breakthrough comes at the corner. Pierro tells Vittoria that when they get to the other side of the crosswalk he will kiss her. They start to cross, but stop midway. Perhaps the city is pulling them back once again. This insignificant moment is the film's anticlimax. They do make it to the other side, and they do kiss, but it isn't substantial. The corner is a place of construction. The city does not yet have full reign here, but it is only a matter of time. Vittoria tosses a stick into the water-barrel, perhaps to mark the spot, perhaps out of boredom. Once again she is arranging objects in the frame. She is moving things, but is never moved herself. Later on Pierro tosses his matchbook in. He as well is restless. She, with her calm life about town, and he, with is yelling at the stock market, both are lost in the pointlessness of modern life. So too is the man who drew flowers, as well as Vittoria's mother. All people are stuck in the monotony. The film ends in a montage of this restlessness. People waiting for the bus, old men, even children, all are searching, waiting. We draw to a close on the street lamp, a glowing orb in the dark. Perhaps its light was stolen from the people of the city. Perhaps it's luminance once belonged the people below. Now only the street lamp shines in the dark.
The ending is far from satisfying, but it is not meant to be. It represents the interrupted and the unfinished. It echoes a very real unhappiness that all people feel at some point in time. If mainstream cinema can be said to be entertainment, L'Eclisse is certainly not "entertaining" in the typical sense of the word. It shows that film can be something other than an escape from life, but a mirror of it. It is exactly the feeling of restlessness in L'Eclisse that the viewer wishes to escape. In this way L'Eclisse documents the very feeling it conveys. It reflects more than a story, it reflects human nature. It discards typical movie tropes and shows that film is more than a medium of narrative. Film is an art form that can express the human condition. It can express pure emotion without relying upon the artificial contrivances of story. It states, "Life itself is worth watching." In this way L'Eclisse, not only fits within the category of art film, but may also be the epitome of what art film is.

The art film is willing to break free of convention. It dares to let the audience feel bored, or uncomfortable, or upset. Its ultimate goal is not to show off actors or to distract audiences with clever screenwriting, but to express an idea. What poetry is to fiction, art film is to mainstream cinema. It is first and foremost the work of its director, an expression. It expresses emotion rather than events. In this way Antonioni's L'Eclisse is truly a masterpiece. It succinctly conveys the feeling of oppression, of frustration and of restlessness without overwhelming the viewer. There is a magnificent subtlety to the film that is rarely captured elsewhere. It is a masterful work of absurdist fiction comparable to Camus' The Stranger.

Art film may be difficult to define, but L'Eclisse brings a definition one step closer to completion. It defines itself by its stark contrast to mainstream cinema and its unconventional narrative. It expresses a terrible discordance between people and their surroundings. It reflects basic unhappiness without placing blame or overwhelming the viewer. Ultimately it places emphasis upon emotions rather than events, epitomizing what an art film can be.

Perhaps Vittoria will find happiness some day; perhaps Pierro will win his money back in the stock market. The film leaves no hints for prediction. Neither optimism nor pessimism but simply waiting... Well, we're half way there. March 28, 2008

The film genius of Michelangelo Antonioni: L'eclisse.

L'eclisse (The Eclipse) (1962) is the conclusion of Michelangelo Antonioni's trilogy on malaise and the alienation of man in the modern world. It follows L'Avventura (1960) and La Notte (1961), and tells the story of a young woman, Vittoria (Monica Vitti) who leaves one lover (Francisco Rabal) only to drift into another relationship with a young, materialistic, cocky, stockbroker, Piero (Alain Delon). Their doomed affair is set against the architecture of Rome, and amidst the crowded and chaotic Rome Stock Market. In the end, Vittoria rejects a marriage proposal and chooses to be alone in an uncertain world instead. The point seems to be, if we can't escape from ourselves, how can we ever really be with anyone else. The film explores characteristic Antonioni themes: loneliness, alienation, living in a cold, materialistic world and the inability to communicate.

The Criterion edition of this film features newly a restored high-definition digital transfer, audio commentary by Richard Peña, program director of the Film Society of Lincoln Center, in New York, "Michelangelo Antonioni: The Eye That Changed Cinema," a 56-minute documentary exploring the director's life and career, "Elements of Landscape," a new, 22-minute video piece about Antonioni and L'eclisse, featuring Italian film critic Adriano Aprà and longtime Antonioni friend Carlo di Carlo, new and improved English subtitle translation, and a 32-page booklet featuring new essays by film critics Jonathan Rosenbaum and Gilberto Perez, along with reprinted excerpts from Antonioni's own writings about his work. Highly recommended.
December 22, 2007

Criterion in Full Bloom : Italy as Poetry

Slow, languid shots of blonde Monica Vitti as she strolls through an empty Italian marketplace. Remarkable closeups of the stunning Alain Delon. Breathtaking black and white overheads of the mesmerising Italian landscapes and Roman architecture.

This is not so much a movie as it is one beautiful postcard after another. The physical beauty of the two lead actors alone will have you enthralled. Monica Vitti (in a much better role than 'L'Avventura') plays a woman torn between two men. Alain Delon, in his day considered the most beautiful man on earth, lights up the screen and its impossible to take your eyes off the Frenchman.

When the two get together there is often no dialog, just long passages of time with silence interspersed with their breathing. Granted, this is not a film for everyone, but if you're looking to enrich your visual senses with true ITALIAN ART, then this is the film for you. True, any film that had two supermodels as their lead will be 'watchable' but here the director converts their obvious physical beauty into transcedental art, and that should not be missed.

Criterion's best transfer, even better than their transfer of "Children of Paradise". November 14, 2007

L'Eclisse

This meticulously composed, at times breathtakingly abstract drama provides another variation on the Italian maestro's central preoccupation in the early '60s: the tenuousness of human connection. Vitti, his oft-appearing muse, never looked more radiant or alluring, a quality that makes her recoiling from physical affection even more puzzling and alienating. Delon, perhaps the handsomest French film icon of all time, is winning as Piero, a confident young buck who knows how to make money at the exchange but fails to fully possess Vittoria. Beautifully stylized and ambiguous, "L'Eclisse" casts a chilly eye on the nature of love and attachment. June 27, 2007

what a beautiful movie, just that

L'Eclisse is a beautiful Italian neo-realist movie by director Michelangelo Antonioni, starring Monica Vitti as Vittoria and Alain Delon as Piero. Vittoria is a good-hearted woman who is "halfway there", meaning that finds herself at a point of desperately needed change. She can't see how a change would add meaning to her life, but she shows interest about all that surrounds her, and is willing to try new and eccentric things (like flying over Rome one afternoon or dressing up as a Somali woman) that ultimately prove to be empty of meaning. At the beginning we witness her separation from her fiancé, who was not a thrill to her either.
Piero is a hyperkinetic stocks runner, Vittoria's mother being a client, whose job demands absolute concentration, time, and iron people skills. Even though he never stops moving and jumping around, he also proves to be unable to see much meaning in life.
The two meet and fall in love, beginning a torrid romance, but even though they are with each other most of the time, be it playing or going for a walk, they hardly ever speak about anything and they seem to each have a large percentage of their thoughts devoted to scrutinizing every single thing, perhaps not for fun but to find significance in them; they are constantly laughing and smiling at little things, trying to be creative and break the routine, but Vittoria does not even consider the idea of making theirs a long-term relationship because she sees nothing to it: "I wish I didn't love you, or loved you much more", she says. She finds everything "halfway there", nothing is intense or dramatic enough to have real relevance.
Vittoria is Antonioni's existential heroine. She has a sort of innate elegance, a sort of abandon to her gestures and her contagious laughter, but she is able to adapt her face to the situation into a shyly desperate expression. Piero is constantly on the run and usually very cruel, but is unable to mistreat Vittoria at all. It is never clear if they like each other because they recognize their nihilism in the other's personality, but I sensed it so. They are so caught up in their own labyrinths that they become physically and emotionally dependent of the other: the reflection in the mirror.
The film ends quite abruptly as Vittoria and Piero set a date for the evening after a long embrace that could very easily mean "good-bye", but regardless of whether they continue their relationship it is not meant to last. With so similar an outlook of the value of daily life, they would most likely evolve to become nihilistic about each other.
On the more technical side, the film is a photographic masterpiece. Every frame looks like a carefully designed picture, every single one is priceless. Monica Vitti's performance is very endearing because she is not an ice maiden and she is not a silly bimbo, she's a credible good-natured woman in a difficult situation. Alain Delon is also remarkably charming (and repulsive at times) as Piero. The film itself is full of music and beautiful, albeit usually lonely, scenarios of Rome, and even though it exceeds 160 minutes, I found it hypnotizing enough not to realize the passing of time.
May 12, 2007

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