Antonioni versus Leone — An exploration of modern Italian film conventions in the light of existing genres.
The revisiting of genres is not a new convention. There is an inherent link between modern cinema and the greater legacy of cinema as a whole. This is a significant consideration when discussing the influence of the canonical genres of the detective story and the western respectively, on films such as Blow-Up and C’era una volta il West. The reinterpretation of these specific genres adds a distinctly modernist tone to the narratives on screen. This text shall discuss the treatment of these films with past examples from the same genres, commenting and reflecting upon the distinctions between them, while also documenting the various directorial techniques of the filmmakers.
The genre of the Western created by European directors is invariably linked to the influence of Hollywood upon Italian cinema. The post-war influence of American producers, directors and actors coupled with the sub- sequent saturation of the Italian film market with Hollywood productions, led to the wonderfully creative hybrid of the Spaghetti Western. The combi- nation of American leading actors cast amongst Italian and Spanish extras creates a surrealist juxtaposition of the known versus the unknown. It is a distinctly modernist theme, one that is tangibly associated with an Italy
that is emerging from the shadows of the war. The prospect of entering a new, unknown future is manifested in the techniques of filmmakers such as Sergio Leone.
The link between past and present is abundantly evident is Leone’s C’era una volta il West, not only in a narratological sense, but also with regard to the genre as a complete entity. There is an amalgamation of previous Westerns into the creative process of C’era una volta, which results in an ex- ceptionally complete film, incorporating the foremost attributes of the genre.
The narrative itself provides a cogent link between the myth of the past and the intrusive nature of the present. It is a theme that is in keeping with the modernist concerns of post-war Italian film; change dominates the events of Leone’s epic. The resistance to change is visible from the outset, as Jack Elam’s character ‘Snaky’, while sitting at the station, rips the wires from the clicking telegraph receiver beside him. His position is shared by characters such as Harmonica, Frank and Cheyenne; they can be perceived as quasi mythological figures, gods of an unknown past, ‘duking it out’ amongst or- dinary human beings, using casual violence as a means of expression, while contemporaneously facing their own extinction during a tumultuous period of modernisation. They are, as Harmonica so appropriately puts it, ‘An ancient race’ (2:14:02). The railway is construed as the aforementioned modernisa- tion; it is an undeniable future, cutting a swathe through the landscape, as unstoppable as time itself. This setting of discordant change sees the oncoming demise of the mythic.
Another reappraisal of the genre comes from the influence of cultural context of contemporary Italy. The protagonists in Leone’s films are often
driven by materialistic desires. When discussing Clint Eastwood’s character of The Stranger in Per un Pugno di dollari, Peter Bondanella states in his essay A Fistful of Pasta: Sergio Leone and the Spaghetti Western, ‘The hero acts out of a single motivation (financial gain) which he shares with the villainous Baxters and Rojos’ (255). This provides a link between the Italy of the Miracolo Economico and Leone’s on screen narrative. The contextual and narratological correlation between the new, capitalist Italy and Leone’s modernist representation of the West, is expressed to a great extent by the director’s cynical portrayal of relationships.
The treatment of these relationships is pertinent with regard to the dis- cussion on the reinterpretation of the Western. The theme of materialistic desire, familiar to viewers of such films such as Umberto D and Ossessione, permeates the story of C’era una volta il West, concurrently demonstrat- ing Leone’s acknowledgement of the Neorealismo movement and perhaps, his dismay at the emergence of a capitalist Italy. The power of money to fuel betrayal is evident when Frank’s men turn against him in return for financial gain, reminding us of Giovanna and Gino’s betrayal of Bragana in Osses- sione. Similarly, the comparison can be made between Morton the railroad tycoon and Umberto D’s landlady; both are willing to ruthlessly displace anyone who stands in the way of their socio-economic development. It could be argued that Leone is continuing to vocalise the stentorian objection to Italian post-war capitalist inclinations, previously expressed by auteurs such as Visconti and De Sica.
When analysed alongside the seminal Westerns of previous decades, there is a distinct comparison between the construction of characters. Gary Cooper’s
protagonist in High Noon, for example, is the archetypal American hero, willing to honourably stand alone against the oncoming danger, despite the overwhelming odds. There is a disparity between this heroic sentiment and that of Harmonica and Cheyenne, anti-heroes who slap women and sneak their guns into their boots to shoot enemies. Jill describes Harmonica as someone who ‘doesnt look like a defender of poor, helpless widows’ (1:53:41). This opinion is compounded by Bondanella, who states that ‘Leone wilfully set out to modify the conventions of the traditional genre’ (255). Harmon- ica in particular embodies the aforementioned modification of conventions. He, the protagonist, represents the theme of revenge, a motive shared by the antagonists in previous Westerns such as High Noon. His presence almost invariably involves death and destruction. As Cheyenne says of Harmon- ica, ‘People like that have something inside, something to do with death’ (2:25:53). This statement is Leone’s reminder to the audience that C’era una volta is almost an ode to a bygone era, the passing of which is being lamented by the actions on screen.
This new, modernist interpretation of the Western is also reflected in the stylistic approach to the narrative. Scenes are constructed in a wonderfully emphatic manner, then suddenly fragmented and punctuated by a penetra- tive and stentorian burst of action. The grand, operatic moments of swelling music, silently powerful close-ups and sweeping visuals breathe a new enthu- siasm into the genre of the Western. Bondanella’s inference describes Leone’s
‘obsession with close-ups as part of his reaction against the formulaic codes imposed upon him by mediocre directors, who were more interested in fol- lowing the so-called rules of cinematic narrative than in pursuing their own
individual style’ (256). The combination of these dramatic close-ups, beau- tifully constructed long shots and stirring music creates the revolutionary style of the operatic Western. Such a style is reflected in preceding modern Italian films such as Senso, where music and visual splendour combine to magnificent effect.
The opening scene of C’era una volta, similar to Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo, begins in medias res, with the reason behind the attempted assas- sinations of Harmonica and Tuco unknown to the audience. Leone, in a departure from the traditional Hollywood Western, while embracing a char- acteristic of Modernism, is happy to both involve and challenge the audience on a narrative level; in Leone’s portrayal of the Western, we must resign ourselves to supposition as opposed to certainty. This tendency is made all the more remarkable in its success. Unlike auteur films such as Senso and Blow-Up, which are indeed challenging films, C’era una volta is a resound- ingly mainstream work, incorporating modernist aspects into a successful amalgamation of past and present.
Another stylistic departure from the Western genre that Leone imple- ments is the powerful use of the motif. The recurring themes that occur in the narrative often reflect the desires of characters, transcending the more prosaic approach of previous Westerns. An obvious motif in C’era una volta is that of water. The water dropping on Woody Strode’s hat, MacBaine’s intention to name his town ‘Sweetwater’, Jill visiting the well, the desire of Morton the railroad tycoon to see the ocean; such narrative devices serve to remind us that this relatively simple motif carries a salient message, one that reminds us that water is fundamental to life, a realisation which is contrasted
sharply with the motif of change and mechanisation, vigorously embodied by the train.
The fresh treatment of the Western in C’era una volta il West is reflected in the second film that this text shall discuss; Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow- Up. If Leone’s interpretation of the Western acted as a mould, using both tried and trusted techniques and fresh, radical ideas to create a master- piece, Antonioni’s detective story completely transcends the genre through the use of progressive, modernist filmmaking. Antonioni’s position as an auteur also reflects his unique reappraisal of a genre, as opposed to Leone’s prominent role as a mainstream director. The auteur’s construction of the detective story necessitates a thorough comparison with previous standards of the genre. For the purpose of this criticism, that film will be Carol Reed’s The Third Man.
When we consider the formula for the stereotypical detective story movie, certain ‘necessities’ in the establishment of the narrative come to mind. Fore- most of these are the setting, the characters and the plot. It is appropriate that Antonioni’s treatment of the genre is a departure from these ‘necessi- ties’, as the film itself is a departure from familiar territory for the auteur.
‘Blow-Up represents a new direction for Antonioni. There is a new language
[English] and setting [mod London in the era of the Beatles]’ (Bondanella,
222). One could argue that the departure from familiarity gave Antonioni carte blanche to imbue Blow-Up with a uniquely avante-garde reinterpreta- tion of the detective story.
The London on screen varies considerably, never allowing the setting to become mundane, or indeed, familiar. Thomas’s sojourn through London is
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a contrast to Holly Martin’s meanderingly sleuthing activities in The Third Man. Carol Reed’s vision of Vienna becomes familiar, recognisable, allowing audience familiarity with on screen locations to reassure them. Antonioni makes no such efforts; in fact, he strives for the opposite. Areas visited more than once, by Hemmings’ protagonist, are never the same as when the viewer first encounters them; his studio is ransacked by unknown intruders, the park is dark upon his return. Antonioni infuses the narrative with the decidedly modernist theme of the anonymous city, uncertain and untrustworthy. While Reed’s Third Man manifests some of this theme, his Vienna is more criminal underworld than distopian metropolis.
As with Leone’s C’era una volta il West, the cultural context is also per- tinent to the matter of the setting. While Leone the mainstream director uses rich, sweeping images of the American West to emphasise a changing of times, Antonioni the auteur uses fast editing of Swinging London to reflect the transient nature of modernity. As Bondanella suggests of Antonioni’s vi- sual style in Blow-Up ‘He employs a new rhythm or pace in his editing; rather than continue the obsessively long takes typical of his trilogy, he now shifts to the fast-paced editing more common to television commercials’ (222).
London during the Sixties is a time of radical change. Art becomes a reflection of reality, of change, while the interpretation of a changing London reality becomes as subjective as art. This art, in the case of Blow-Up in- cludes both photography and cinema. As Thomas questions what his art has captured, namely a murder, the audience is contemporaneously questioning what it is viewing.
To continue with this discussion, Antonioni’s plot structure is relevant.
The opening shot of Blow-Up with the camera on a patch of grass, is fol- lowed immediately by the surrealism of the mimes driving through a deserted courtyard of disused buildings. This moment is similar to the closing mo- ments of the film, where we again encounter the mimes. Antonioni chooses, significantly, to bookend the film with similar events. It creates a theme of cyclicality, with a feeling of surrealism permeating the narrative. In this respect, the plot becomes dubious, almost secondary. One could argue that by linking such similar events at both the opening and closing of the movie, the director is forcing us to draw our own conclusions, perhaps to question the very existence of such a plot. It is a bold, distinctly modernist technique, one that immediately engages the audience at a critical level, with the viewer yearning to understand the meaning behind the director’s narrative. It is a remarkable departure from the genre of the detective novel, to say the least. Previous films from the canon of the detective story, such as The Third Man, seek to establish a flowing narrative, with an emphasis on a certain, linear series of events; an event, an investigation and a final satisfactory conclu- sion. Antonioni’s reinterpretation of the genre is quite a departure from such a restrictive formula.
The characters present in Blow-Up, one could infer, provide the clearest example of Antonioni’s departure from the detective story genre. Similar to Sergio Leone’s C’era una volta il West, the principle figures on screen appear deeply self-serving, while secondary characters serve no other purpose than to be seen. A more traditional detective story, such as Reed’s, sees the protagonist strive to solve problems out of concern, or at the very least, out of moral pride. Also, secondary characters in The Third Man are useful in
providing plot information. In Blow-Up, Antonioni’s secondary characters are useless, almost shades of real people. When his art-house pictures of the homeless men have been developed, Thomas instructs Reg to ‘Burn that lot’ (0:10:52), thrusting the ‘homeless man’ disguise into his assistant’s hands. In this brief moment, one could argue that Michelangelo Antonioni makes a rather emphatic statement concerning his protagonist; Thomas will step out of his sphere of comfort merely to serve his own needs. His use of the destitute members of London is similar to his treatment of the models in his studio; they are commodities to be exploited in the creation of Thomas’ art.
This criticism that Antonioni levels at self-indulgence is not restricted to the Londonesque context of Blow-Up. Antonioni must have been influenced by the changing, materialistic culture of his native Italy. One cannot help but feel a distinct denouncement of such blatant capitalism within the film’s narrative.
The introduction of the protagonist, David Hemmings’ enigmatic Thomas, is fundamentally relevant to the reinterpretation of the detective story genre, in a materialistic world. Thomas is a complete antithesis of Joseph Cot- ton’s character of Holly Martins in Reed’s Third Man. While Carol Reed’s voice-over at the opening of The Third Man provides us with a rather sten- torian passage of background information, Antonioni’s feature attempts no such thing. Thomas emerges silently from the homeless shelter, waits for the crowd to disperse, then climbs into his Rolls Royce. In this moment Antonioni reminds his audience that nothing is as it first appears.
The inclusion of Vanessa Redgrave’s Jane also challenges the conventions of the detective story. The stereotypical embodiment of the ‘challenging
yet beautiful’ love interest, such as Alida Valli’s portrayal of Anna Schmidt in The Third Man, is treated differently in Blow-Up. The female figure of interest in Antonioni’s feature provides an unsatisfactory conclusion to both plot and romantic possibilities. Vanessa Redgrave’s Jane is a mystery amidst a film full of questions. Antonioni resolves to remind the viewer that in this filmic reality, as with the contemporary London in which it is set, relationships are fleeting and unsubstantial. He tantalisingly introduces the mysterious Jane, then snatches her from our cognitive path, refusing to be bound by the rules of the detective story genre.
To conclude the discussion of the interpretation of genre by both Leone and Antonioni, it is important to reflect on the observations made in this text, as a means to providing a final word on both C’era una volta il West and Blow-Up. Both texts are remarkable examples of modern film. One could argue that it is that one word; modern, that is of tantamount importance in the criticism of both features. Both incorporate aspects of Modernism to offer fresh, exciting variations of established genres. Antonioni uses the platform of the detective story to connote an eventful series of occurrences, culminating in a memorable yet uncertain conclusion. However, the reality is that the modernist nature of the film resists any ‘certainty’, questioning whether the medium of film is to be so readily believed. Leone’s Cera una volta il West takes the traditional Western and similar to Antonioni, uses contemporary Italian and European socio-cultural concerns to inspirational effect. His reappraisal of the Western, set to a soundtrack that is almost as important as the visuals, is epic in scale and magnificent in achievement. Crucially, both films embody the success that can be gleaned from a dynamic
approach to an existing genre.
References
[1] Antonioni, M. Blow Up. 1966.
[2] Bondanella, P. Italian Cinema from Neorealism to The Present. The
Continuum Publishing Company, New York, 1983. [3] De Sica, V. Umberto D. 1952.
[4] Leone, S. Per un Pugno di dollari. 1964.
[5] Leone, S. Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo. 1966. [6] Leone, S. C’era una volta il West. 1968.
[7] Marcus, M. Italian Film in the Light of Neorealism. Princeton Uni- versity Press, New Jersey, 1986.
[8] Reed, C. The Third Man. 1949. [9] Visconti, L. Ossessione. 1943. [10] Visconti, L. Senso. 1954.
[11] Zinneman, F. High Noon. 1952.
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