Just saw the Criterion Collection’s new release of Luchino Visconti’s Senso from 1954. This a storied film, signifying among other things Visconti’s move away from the Italian Neo-Realism movement, to the extent he was ever truly a part of that post-war scene. I was interested in Senso for a number of reasons: It was featured in Scorcese’s terrific My Voyage To Italy detailing the great post war Italian films that the director grew up with (including, in addition to Visconti, Rossellini, DeSica, Fellini, Antonioni and others). Also, the star of the film, Alida Valli (aka Valli) was the love interest in The Third Man, which I just saw and reviewed in last week’s blog post. In fact, The Third Man’s cinematographer, Robert Krasker, also worked on this film.
Senso is a period piece, a costume drama that takes place in the middle of the 19th century. It is the story of Livia, a beautiful aristocratic Venetian woman (Valli), married to a stuffed shirt older husband. Livia falls in love with Franz, a young, Austrian army officer (Farley Granger), and their affair eventually leads to her, and his, downfall. Shades of Anna Karenina. This is set against the backdrop of il Risorgimento, or "The Resurgence", the movement to
unify the Italian states into a single nation and drive out the occupying Austrians from Venice and Lombardi. Livia’s cousin is a leader of the patriots. Her liaison with Franz is not only a betrayal of her marriage and of her class, but of her cousin, her political ideals, and of her very self.
Senso is a period piece, a costume drama that takes place in the middle of the 19th century. It is the story of Livia, a beautiful aristocratic Venetian woman (Valli), married to a stuffed shirt older husband. Livia falls in love with Franz, a young, Austrian army officer (Farley Granger), and their affair eventually leads to her, and his, downfall. Shades of Anna Karenina. This is set against the backdrop of il Risorgimento, or "The Resurgence", the movement to
unify the Italian states into a single nation and drive out the occupying Austrians from Venice and Lombardi. Livia’s cousin is a leader of the patriots. Her liaison with Franz is not only a betrayal of her marriage and of her class, but of her cousin, her political ideals, and of her very self.
This is all very emotional and very melodramatic - intentionally so. While melodrama is out of fashion in cinema nowadays, here it works in a quite satisfying way, as in a good opera. Visconti was an accomplished operatic director and went on to stage many productions at La Scala and elsewhere. Indeed, the film opens at La Fenice, the famed, and famously beautiful, Venice opera house, during a performance of Verdi’s Il Trovatore. This opera is about love, passion, and above all, revenge; and these themes foreshadow all that is to come in Senso. This opening scene is a brilliant, gorgeous, dramatically satisfying set piece. (See it here). From the start, we are made to feel that change is in the air, that this is a time for drama.
We also immediately understand that we are in for a lush, extravagantly rich visual experience. And one of the joys of Senso is the beauty of the technicolor photography, of the sets, the furnishings, the costumes, the scenery. It is a sumptuous visual delight. Normally, this sort of thing doesn’t excite me, but this is no Merchant-Ivory production with slow pans of the sedate furnishings and bric-a-brac. Visconti brings us into the Italian aristocracy’s world, a world of mansions, chockablock with lavish art, sculpture, draperies, servants, massive doors, groomed lawns and gardens, carriages, you name it. But he doesn’t pause to show us these things, they are just there. I was even dazzled by the magnificence of the horses – carriage horses and cavalry horses alike. Visconti was an aristocrat himself, and, according to David Thomson, his chief interest was horses before turning to cinema. All this sumptuousness vividly recreates a bygone time and place, and brings you into the world of the movie’s characters like no other exposition can.
In addition to the tragic, melodramatic story, the voluptuous visuals, and the opening Il Trovatori, the operatic nature of Senso is underscored by its music. Why hire a composer when everything you need is available by sampling from Bruckner’s 7th symphony, which Visconti did throughout the film. This musical accompaniment works wonderfully: it is rich and romantic when called for, then ominous, then tragic. Pairing music with film is a bit like finding the right wine for a particular food – when it works, the overall experience is enhanced, as is the case here.
Senso does drag a bit in the middle. Although this part includes a beautifully staged battle scene, without a better sense of the actual history, it left me and my companions confused more than stirred. (What’s going on here and why should we care?) That said, the tragic tale of passion and ruination picks up again at the end, and we are satisfied. Overall, it is an epic story, well worth a visit.
(For a more detailed examination of Visconti and the making of Senso, see Mark Rappaport's excellent essay at Criterion)
We also immediately understand that we are in for a lush, extravagantly rich visual experience. And one of the joys of Senso is the beauty of the technicolor photography, of the sets, the furnishings, the costumes, the scenery. It is a sumptuous visual delight. Normally, this sort of thing doesn’t excite me, but this is no Merchant-Ivory production with slow pans of the sedate furnishings and bric-a-brac. Visconti brings us into the Italian aristocracy’s world, a world of mansions, chockablock with lavish art, sculpture, draperies, servants, massive doors, groomed lawns and gardens, carriages, you name it. But he doesn’t pause to show us these things, they are just there. I was even dazzled by the magnificence of the horses – carriage horses and cavalry horses alike. Visconti was an aristocrat himself, and, according to David Thomson, his chief interest was horses before turning to cinema. All this sumptuousness vividly recreates a bygone time and place, and brings you into the world of the movie’s characters like no other exposition can.
In addition to the tragic, melodramatic story, the voluptuous visuals, and the opening Il Trovatori, the operatic nature of Senso is underscored by its music. Why hire a composer when everything you need is available by sampling from Bruckner’s 7th symphony, which Visconti did throughout the film. This musical accompaniment works wonderfully: it is rich and romantic when called for, then ominous, then tragic. Pairing music with film is a bit like finding the right wine for a particular food – when it works, the overall experience is enhanced, as is the case here.
Senso does drag a bit in the middle. Although this part includes a beautifully staged battle scene, without a better sense of the actual history, it left me and my companions confused more than stirred. (What’s going on here and why should we care?) That said, the tragic tale of passion and ruination picks up again at the end, and we are satisfied. Overall, it is an epic story, well worth a visit.
(For a more detailed examination of Visconti and the making of Senso, see Mark Rappaport's excellent essay at Criterion)
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