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I needed an Antonioni for the Criterion Challenge (original link; my list), and as I’d recently filled two other categories with Alain Delon films, I figured I’d give this a rewatch. My original thoughts still hold, but with two other Delons in my recent viewing history (Purple Noon with his marvelously sexy vacation wear and The Leopard with his terrible mustache) and the fact that one of my pandemic copes has been reading menswear blogs (and making the occasional questionable purchase accordingly), I couldn’t help but pay more attention to his wardrobe this time around. As his profession is that of a stockbroker, his suits are expectedly conservative and business-like, mostly in dark colours and flattering cuts that are trim but not restrictive. (Given the influence of Mad Men on recent men’s fashion, it’s not surprising that the suits he wears wouldn’t be at all incongruous with modern office wear.)
This was before finance held the flashy, sinister stature in the public sphere that it does today (which can be traced back to financial innovations in the ‘70s and the subsequent market boom in the '80s) and the suits Delon wears are a far cry from the broad-shouldered power suits of Gordon Gekko and the like, although I’d hesitate to call them bland. (Close-ups reveal subtle stripes and cross-hatching on his suits as well as a herringbone texture on some of his shirts.) Yet even when he wears more approachable outfits in lighter colours, there’s something undeniably cold and business-like about them, suggesting perhaps that he carries some reservations about his amorous intentions and that his relationship with Monica Vitti holds limited promise as a result. Other actors have looked comparatively good in tailoring onscreen, but I’d argue none have looked better than Delon, nor have they been better vehicles than him for storytelling via wardrobe. (I maintain that the fashions in Purple Noon are integral to the film’s dramatic arc, as it’s suggested that one of the reasons Tom Ripley commits his crimes is to get his grubby, disreputable hands on Greenleaf’s sweet boating blazer. This film also share’s that one’s casting strategy, placing the transcendently attractive Delon and Vitti against the significantly less cool and handsome Francisco Rabal.)
It also might be hard to discuss things people wear in this movie without bringing up the scene of Vitti in blackface. Antonioni presents the scene with a certain matter-of-fact quality, but even with the arguable stylistic ambivalence, it would be hard to read the scene as anything other than an across the board indictment. Vitti’s character is glib enough to find the act anything other than ill-advised, and her friend, aside from her unapologetic racism, fails to interrogate her own colonialist mentality when remarking on her privileged upbringing. The fact that the movie was released during the Congo Crisis (which is briefly and dismissively referred to in the dialogue) only sharpens the indictment. I read a piece by Jonathan Rosenbaum that suggests that the movie presents this scene without judgment, but I’d argue that the very presentation of this material is the judgment. Antonioni trusts that viewers can reach the appropriate conclusion.
And of course, as I’m musing on the film’s visuals, I must comment on the overall style, where I still stand by my original take. The reason this clicked for me while L'Avventura and La Notte did not (although I do owe those movies a rewatch, in fairness) is how this one plays with its experiential and visceral qualities. I think not just of the stock exchange and plane scenes, but even brief moments where Vitti follows a stockbroker to a drug store and cafe and where she contemplates going into a bar. These are moments where the movie almost plays in the first person, although in the exchange scene, Antonioni contrasts that with an overarching view of the strange, insane dance that transpires during a market crash. And of course, he builds that tension as he juxtaposes the characters against wider and wider shots of cold, unfeeling architecture and negative space (in a way that reminded me of Jean Rollin’s Night of the Hunted, of all things) until the striking final minutes (foolishly excised by some American distributors when initially released) when they’ve disintegrated into nothing.
L'Eclisse (Antonioni, 1962)
I needed an Antonioni for the Criterion Challenge (original link; my list), and as I’d recently filled two other categories with Alain Delon films, I figured I’d give this a rewatch. My original thoughts still hold, but with two other Delons in my recent viewing history (Purple Noon with his marvelously sexy vacation wear and The Leopard with his terrible mustache) and the fact that one of my pandemic copes has been reading menswear blogs (and making the occasional questionable purchase accordingly), I couldn’t help but pay more attention to his wardrobe this time around. As his profession is that of a stockbroker, his suits are expectedly conservative and business-like, mostly in dark colours and flattering cuts that are trim but not restrictive. (Given the influence of Mad Men on recent men’s fashion, it’s not surprising that the suits he wears wouldn’t be at all incongruous with modern office wear.)
This was before finance held the flashy, sinister stature in the public sphere that it does today (which can be traced back to financial innovations in the ‘70s and the subsequent market boom in the '80s) and the suits Delon wears are a far cry from the broad-shouldered power suits of Gordon Gekko and the like, although I’d hesitate to call them bland. (Close-ups reveal subtle stripes and cross-hatching on his suits as well as a herringbone texture on some of his shirts.) Yet even when he wears more approachable outfits in lighter colours, there’s something undeniably cold and business-like about them, suggesting perhaps that he carries some reservations about his amorous intentions and that his relationship with Monica Vitti holds limited promise as a result. Other actors have looked comparatively good in tailoring onscreen, but I’d argue none have looked better than Delon, nor have they been better vehicles than him for storytelling via wardrobe. (I maintain that the fashions in Purple Noon are integral to the film’s dramatic arc, as it’s suggested that one of the reasons Tom Ripley commits his crimes is to get his grubby, disreputable hands on Greenleaf’s sweet boating blazer. This film also share’s that one’s casting strategy, placing the transcendently attractive Delon and Vitti against the significantly less cool and handsome Francisco Rabal.)
It also might be hard to discuss things people wear in this movie without bringing up the scene of Vitti in blackface. Antonioni presents the scene with a certain matter-of-fact quality, but even with the arguable stylistic ambivalence, it would be hard to read the scene as anything other than an across the board indictment. Vitti’s character is glib enough to find the act anything other than ill-advised, and her friend, aside from her unapologetic racism, fails to interrogate her own colonialist mentality when remarking on her privileged upbringing. The fact that the movie was released during the Congo Crisis (which is briefly and dismissively referred to in the dialogue) only sharpens the indictment. I read a piece by Jonathan Rosenbaum that suggests that the movie presents this scene without judgment, but I’d argue that the very presentation of this material is the judgment. Antonioni trusts that viewers can reach the appropriate conclusion.
And of course, as I’m musing on the film’s visuals, I must comment on the overall style, where I still stand by my original take. The reason this clicked for me while L'Avventura and La Notte did not (although I do owe those movies a rewatch, in fairness) is how this one plays with its experiential and visceral qualities. I think not just of the stock exchange and plane scenes, but even brief moments where Vitti follows a stockbroker to a drug store and cafe and where she contemplates going into a bar. These are moments where the movie almost plays in the first person, although in the exchange scene, Antonioni contrasts that with an overarching view of the strange, insane dance that transpires during a market crash. And of course, he builds that tension as he juxtaposes the characters against wider and wider shots of cold, unfeeling architecture and negative space (in a way that reminded me of Jean Rollin’s Night of the Hunted, of all things) until the striking final minutes (foolishly excised by some American distributors when initially released) when they’ve disintegrated into nothing.