L'Eclisse (1962)

A Masterpiece!

An old-fashioned movie made with new-fashioned finesse.

An old-fashioned movie made with new-fashioned finesse.

The movie really just wants to entertain people.

I think it becomes clear in the film that the relationship between Monica Vitti and Alain Delon will also fail, so distant are the ways of being each other, she (apparently) being happy with trivial and simple things and not giving value to money, he extremely "scrambled" and materialistic. It's a film with the Antonioni brand, undoubtedly, there are all the elements that characterize the films of this excellent filmmaker. The filming is magnificent, as always. Even so, I think the film is slightly below other films of the same as "la notte", "il desert rosso", "blowup" or "zabriskie point".

I don't know what this film is. It runs for more than two hours, has only an excuse of a plot and yet I wasn't bored for a second. This by itself seems like a glorious achievement.Admittedly, it is easy to keep staring at the screen because Monica Vitti is so magnetic. The desolation and alienation of those empty suburban streets is balanced and somehow lifted by the very good cinematography. It's as if Antonioni gave us the diagnosis and the cure at the same time. He takes a look at things that is both realistic and removed from reality.He observes and unmasks the weirdness of modern life. But journalists do that too, so there's more. The African dance is unexpected and energetic and completely breaks the rhythm of the film for a moment, while the stock exchange turns into a cage of raging monkeys. Those images are very inexplicable, and they are interspersed by more tangible statements about racism, nuclear threat, obsession with numbers and other absurdities of life. It all blends together into one big picture, while the director seems to be saying: this is how we live, this is where we are going.The movie is full of details, like the necklace made of a solid iron chain that the Vitti character is wearing in her last scene.The final sequence, which is also the climax of the film, can mean anything and nothing. Instead of „rewarding" the audience for their patience, Antonioni takes it one step further. He removes the bridle of his horse and just let's it go. It can easily be overloaded with interpretations or just taken for what it is. I found it weird and hypnotizing.I think this is also about filmmaking and it's power and possibilities, rather than filmmaking as a means to tell a trivial story.

In this, his third film about the boredom and alienation of modern society, Antonioni reaches new heights in boring and alienating his audience. While Monica Vitti is indeed a beautiful and charismatic screen presence, watching her wander aimlessly for over two hours quickly loses its appeal (Though I'll take it over watching Jeanne Moreau wander aimlessly for over two hours in "La Notte"). Occasional sparks of interest go nowhere, as in her quest to find the lost dog. The "African" sequence is far more shocking today than it was half a century ago, seeing how it flies in the face of today's overbearing political correctness. None of these episodes amount to much; we already get where Antonioni is going from the opening sequence in which the two lovers are monosyllabically calling it quits. If you enjoy watching paint dry and then analyzing a blank canvas, this film will provide lots of fodder.

Vittoria is dissatisfied with love. With life. With the world. She stands before us in a slinky black dress, her white blonde hair afraid of another tease, her cat eyes worried they might look the other way and find yet another object that brings no happiness. A light breeze hits her ethereally beautiful composure, idling from an electric fan that can barely suppress the unbearable heat that has consumed the neighborhood. She wanders around the room like a fashion model clamoring for a good shot, only to promptly lie down on a feathery sofa in protest. As she regains the strength to pick herself back up, she walks over to her older lover with magnetic intent. They talk. They stare at each other in silence. "I'm leaving," Vittoria announces. A few moments go by. Vittoria wants to explain herself — she wishes she could deliver yet another "it's not you, it's me" spiel — but she can't. She doesn't know what she wants, she doesn't know if love is enough, and she sure as hell doesn't know how to explain the emptiness she feels in such a repetitive continuum. But she knows one thing; one more minute of her current life and she might scream her lungs out into a vacant room. Michelangelo Antonioni has a blunt fascination with dissolution, disappearance, and death: in his L'Avventura, a woman simply vanishes into thin air after a boating trip to a remote island. In 1966's Blowup, a dead body is discovered in a park through a series of voyeuristic photos; problem is, the entire crime may just be an illusion. L'Eclisse is a labyrinth of silence and oppression where you can't quite grasp your motives and temptations. Communication only seems to be comfortable when within the barriers of small-talk and flirtations. Everything is so materialistic that if you suddenly died of a heart attack, everyone would gasp for vivid emphasis but turn around and continue self-serving without mourning for a minute. L'Eclisse has the optimism of a cynical teenager, questioning if life really matters and if romance really can make all the difference. It's enormously heavy stuff, and Antonioni ices a rich drizzling of alienation and isolation with the craftsmanship of a master chef. A luminous Monica Vitti portrays Vittoria with such warm-blooded specificity that the coldness of her mental state comes by as a surprise. She is slowly losing the carefree euphoria of her youth, and is beginning to wonder if life, as repetitive as it is, is all that it's cracked up to be. After breaking up with her long-time lover, she begins to find herself attracted to Piero (an always charismatic Alain Delon), a younger stockbroker that emanates confidence and fortunately lacks the acumen that made her former partner such an unwavering bore. It doesn't take long before they embark on a blazing affair, but even with lingering infatuation on their side, they are confronted with their innermost fears, hurting their chances of lasting love.L'Eclisse is not so much a love story as it is an expression of loneliness; the central characters want their hesitations to come to an end, but they can't seem to find themselves fulfilled in any direction they go. As children, they were told that love and marriage and kids and a big house were all you needed to find happiness, but as they age, it becomes increasingly clear that such elementary ideas are merely a distraction, not a solution.Antonioni can't answer the questions he poses with such ardor, but he asks them so convincingly that it proves to be impossible to finish the film without a feeling of despair at the pit of your stomach. The conclusion, which finds both characters alone and out of the picture, is simply a series of city shots that rattle with a stirringly desolate ambiance. It's a courageous way to end a film, but it only deepens what Antonioni was going for already. What if love doesn't matter? What if life doesn't matter? What if we're alone for the rest of our lives? Will anyone care? If sexy stars like Monica Vitti and Alain Delon can't lose themselves in a syrupy love story that tricks us into thinking that the world isn't a cruel place, then who can? L'Eclisse is not for the faint of heart, but if you give it a chance, you'll find yourself experiencing feelings you never thought you'd feel before.Read more reviews at petersonreviews.com