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pier paolo pasolini (1922-1975)
frank capra |
pasolini
"I see everything in the world, objects as
well as people and nature, with a certain
veneration."
Pasolini's cinema refuses easy, conventional
critical definitions and consequently has been
frequently misunderstood. Lacking — indeed
rejecting - the superficial stylistic and thematic
continuities so beloved of the critical consensus, its contradictions have been vaguely
dubbed as Christian-Marxist. However, this
does isolate an aspect of Pasolini's cinema:
namely, that it is particularly deeply embedded
in Italian cultural and political life with all its
conflicting traits and elements, the most important of which is the opposition between the
two commanding ideologies of Catholicism
and Communism.
Born in 1922 in Bologna, northern Italy,
Pier-Paolo Pasolini came from a social
background for which there is no real English
equivalent:
He admitted 'an excessive, almost monstrous love' for his mother, and that he lived 'in a
state of permanent, even violent tension' with
his father - a Fascist supporter, tyrannical and
overbearing. Pasolini grew up with a dislike of
institutionalized religion (his father was a non-
believer who made the family go to church for
social reasons) and was not a practising Catholic; however, he also admired his mother's
'poetic and natural' sense of religion and
admitted in himself a tendency towards mysticism:
Poet and peasant
At seventeen Pasolini began to write poetry in
the Friulan dialect. Significantly, Friuli was
not only his mother's native area, it also
represented a regionalism of which his father -
as both a Fascist and an inhabitant of central
Italy - strongly disapproved. But Pasolini's
interest in peasant dialects does not simply
relate to his family, it also attests to a somewhat backward-looking, romantic, idealized vision of the peasantry as a source of 'true,
natural values' which is as prevalent in his
cinematic as his literary works. This early
penchant for obscure dialect poetry was also
connected with the current vogue for literary
aestheticism — the idea that the language of
poetry is absolute and sufficient unto itself.
This cultivation of form for its own sake
returns in Pasolini's cinema, representing a
vigorous and stimulating attack on outworn
forms of naturalism such as neo-realism, as
well as a tendency towards extreme impenetrability.
Pasolini's favourite authors were deemed
degenerate by the Fascists, and so, fuelled by
hatred for his father, Pasolini developed a
visceral anti-Fascism and turned towards Marxism. After the war, his Marxist leanings were
reinforced at the University of Bologna, and he
actually joined the Communist Party briefly in
1947-8. However, as he admits, his Marxism
was emotional, aesthetic and cultural rather
than directly political, and was strongly linked
to his attachment to the (largely Catholic)
peasantry. Indeed, Pasolini displayed only the
sketchiest awareness of the works of Marx and
Lenin, and none of his films could be said to
adopt a rigorous, coherent and thoroughgoing
Marxist point of view.
In 1950 Pasolini came to Rome, both the
political capital of Italy and the home of
Cinecitta, and thus an ideal place for someone
interested in both film and politics. Here he
became a scriptwriter, working mainly on
would-be artistic low-life films - the last dying
gasps of neo-realism - though he also had a
hand in Fellini's Le Notti di Cabiria (1957,
Nights of Cabiria) and Bertolucci's La Commare
Secca (1962, The Grim Reaper).
Pasolini's work on Roman underworld films
fitted perfectly with his interest in the Roman
sub-proletariat, that was for him the urban
equivalent of the Friulan peasantry. His earliest novels and films are set in this sector of
society rather than among the organized,
industrial proletariat. His first film Accattone
(1961) is the chronicle of a small-time hustler,
which, for all its employment of seemingly
neo-realist devices (fragmentary narrative,
non-professional actors, seedy locations, etc.),
is significant precisely for its departures from
the genre.
Though the film may be set among the sub-proletariat, it is not about them as a class and
does nothing to elucidate their social condition. In this respect Pasolini's use of dialect
here is less 'realistic' than a hermetic formal
device which, as in his poetry, draws attention
to the sounds of the words themselves. Similarly, the film's fractured structure, in which
many shots appear to fulfil no clear narrative
function, is less a 'realist' feature than the
filmic equivalent of poetic language: metaphorical, connotative and largely self-
referential.
Accattone, like so much of Pasolini's work,
operates not on the level of the psychological
and the social, but on that of fable and myth.
His second film - Mamma Roma (1962) - is the
story of an ex-prostitute who tries unsuccessfully to give her son a 'respectable' bourgeois
background. It introduces another key Pasolini theme, and one that is exposed more
fully in Teorema (1968, Theorem): the unacceptable face of the modern bourgeois and petit-bourgeois worlds.
With II Vangelo Secondo Matteo (1964, The
Gospel According to St Matthew) Pasolini took an already mythologized subject. Cleary influenced by Rossellini's Francesco, Giullare di Dio (1950, Flowers of St. Francis), Pasolini almost reverses the trajectory of Accattone by moving from the mythical and sacred to the everyday. Generally read as an attempt to pull Christianity back to its popular, primitive roots, it was largely this film which earned him the 'Christian-Marxist' tag. However, it could also be argued that the representation of the various 'modern' accretions to the Gospel demonstrates that the Bible possesses no one fixed meaning, but various different meanings which have come to it over centuries of social usage. Ultimately the film expresses a belief in the virtues of the people independant of social classes, while its view of history is too cloudy and romanticized to be considered properly
materialist. In line with Pasolini's reverence
for what he calls the sacred, the miracles are
allowed to retain their sense of mystery.
Coinciding with the upsurge in left-wing
political activity in the late Sixties, Pasolini
retreated increasingly into the creation of a
largely mythical universe, with films such as
Edipo Re (1967, Oedipus Rex), Teorema, Porcile
(1969, Pigsty) and Medea (1970). It was hardly
surprising that he should be attracted by the
Oedipus legend, not only in Oedipus Rex but
throughout many of his films in which its
presence (though not always immediately obvious) acts as a structure of images and ideas
informing the whole. Oedipus Rex is framed by
a contemporary prologue and epilogue, set in the Friulan countryside and Bologna respectively. The main action occurs not in an
historically specific ancient Greece, but in an seemingly timeless pre-historical North Africa,
a world of primitive drives and desires. This is
presented as deliberately strange and distanced, like someone else's dream, affording
the spectator no possibility of involvement and
identification.
Like many Pasolinian figures Oedipus inhabits
a pre-moral world, obeying only his basic
drives before eventually being forced to enter
into knowledge, to understand the significance
of his acts and to realize that certain desires are
taboo. But by then it is too late and retribution
inevitably follows, making many of Pasolini's
films akin to pagan versions of the myth of the
Fall, set in the realms of the universal and the
mythic as opposed to the personal and the
psychological. Indeed, his trilogy of tales - Il
Decameron (1971, The Decameron), I Racconti di
Canterbury (1972, The Canterbury Tales), Il Fiore
delle Mille e Una Notte (1974, Arabian Nights)
celebrates a pre-lapsarian world, the invocation of an almost magical past in which
innocence is still possible. Arabian Nights in
particular is a paean to guiltless sexuality, to
the naked human body and to frank sexual desire: a film in which, unusually, the male
heterosexual vision does not dominate, and male and female beauty and desire are treated
in an unconventionally equal manner.
After the relative innocence of the trilogy
Pasolmi plunged back into the horrors of a
twentieth century in the grip of Fascism with
Salo o le Centoventi Giornate di Sodoma (1975,
Salo or the 120 Days of Sodom). Transposing
the Marquis de Sade's eighteenth-century
erotic tales to a castle in northern Italy during the last days of Mussolini, Pasolini presents an
increasingly extreme series of orgies and tortures in order to demonstrate that sex is no
longer a means of liberation but simply one
more tool of oppression. The point may be
debatable, but not the horrifying cruelty and
pessimism of this uncannily valedictory work.
Pasolini was battered to death by a teenage
youth shortly after completing Salo on November2, 1975, in circumstances that still remain clouded and controversial.
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