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Sunday, September 6, 2009

A Foreign Film as Beethoven

Well, this was interesting. As I was browsing for things to do on a Friday night, I came across two things that caught my eye. The first was a Houston based baroque music ensemble doing a Mexican Fiesta in an outdoor theater. With the threat of rain, I opted against it and put plan B into action: sped to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, for a screening of Teorema, a 1968 Italian film by Pier Paolo Pasolini that has over the years gained a cult like status.

Without consciously realizing it, this would serve to evaluate my previous metaphor of Beethoven and foreign films, although not fully as I would not have the opportunity to watch it silently, without subtitles, and gain absolute command of the Italian language and its colloquialisms. Spanish is close to Italian so I was able to piece a few things together.

I did not know much about the work prior. All I knew was the title and the short description provided by the museum:

"One of the key films of the 1960s, Teorema stars Terence Stamp as a Christ-like figure who wanders out of the dunes and into the home of a Milanese industrialist. He seduces each member of the household: mother (Silvan Mangano), father, son, daughter, the maid. All are spiritually transformed by their sexual encounters, and when the visitor disappears just as mysteriously as he arrived, each develops strange ways to deal with the anguish of his absence. Teorema has been interpreted as both mystical and Marxist; Pasolini himself said it illustrates "the vendetta of the sacred against bourgeois society." The film was seized at the Venice film festival and charged with obscenity. Today it enjoys cult status."

Well, I suppose this is quite a lot of information. The title intrigued me as I could translated it into "theorem." In mathematics, a theorem is a statement proved on the basis of accepted statements. The concept of a theorem is deductive, where if the hypothesis are true, then the conclusions must be true (opposite from scientific theory). That tells me that Pasolini was trying to prove something out of a series of hypothesis. Given then content of the film, I'd say his commentary is rather pompous.

Historical knowledge and context is important, and I'd argue essential. Without knowledge and general background on the Industrial Revolution, the rise of the bourgeois and conflicts with the proletariats, Marxism's harsh commentary on capitalism, and post-war conditions, the viewer has a huge leeway to interpret and reinterpret missing the continuum that exists within each art discipline. Michael Kimmelman in the "Accidental Masterpiece" speaks about works whose interpretation depends on their physical context (like Nancy Holt's Sun Tunnels, the Vatican, anything that cannot be physically moved for aesthetic of practical reasons). Can the argument be made that this film cannot be taken out of its historical context due to the same reasons? It would become another work, and clearly, even the artist claimed a specific purpose. Of course, in today's standards, is it acceptable to become another work?

The first portion of the film goes to establish the industrialist bourgeois family in their context. Students running carelessly, cars, boys and girls holding hands, and a couple falling in love. In this case, visually it's quite innocent, but it is the music that provides the bitter commentary. Berg-esque and almost to the point of atonal expressionism, the music provides the viewer the notion that although the pictures are providing one affect, the music is providing the context in which the scene is to be interpreted and judged. I'll leap and propose that without all the elements intended present, the aesthetic experience is greatly compromised in regards to questioning the integrity of the bourgeois. Interesting to note that Ennio Morricone composed the music for this film.

The film is in three clear parts. The first are the seductions, where the Christ-like figure engages with each member of the family. The second are the confessions, where upon learning of his departure, they verbally vomit their psychological state and his effect on them. The third is there psychotic manifestation of the effect of something coming in and out of their lives, living out their void.

There is much room for personal interpretation also. Dialogue is minimal, but expression is abundant. We can guess at the internal struggle of each character, sometimes being able to personally connect, other times being separated from the subject by our inability to understand. I think Pasolini purposely gives these moments of blurriness (as my lovely friend Florence would say) to connect aesthetically.

Wherever dialogue is used, it is to further the development in ways that images cannot. It would give us too much blurriness and miss the overall psychological struggles of each character. Perhaps equating this to tonal syntax, it enables us to dig deeply into the past themes, present variations, and clues (foreshadowing) into future possibilities.

I can't say that I have am comfortable accepting my hypothesis as I don't believe there is a concrete and stable scale to determine our enjoyment, appreciation, and understanding of a work. Film still gives us a more representational approach, although in Pasolini's case, it is high symbolic and I'd leap a little higher in attempting a comparison. Perhaps one of these days, I'll do the whole experiment, and see what I can "understand" from each stage. I think it's worth a shot.

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