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L'Eclisse - Criterion Collection
The conclusion of Michelangelo Antonioni’s informal trilogy on modern malaise, which began with L’avventura, L’eclisse (The Eclipse) tells the story of a young woman (Monica Vitti) who leaves one lover (Francisco Rabal) only to drift into a relationship with another (Alain Delon).
Manufacturer: Criterion
Price Range: $26.89 - $39.95
 L'Eclisse - Criterion Collection
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| User Reviews |  | Excellent
rating: 4
Michelangelo Antonioni's L'Eclisse (The Eclipse), his 1962 black and white capstone of his Alienation Trilogy that began with L'Avventura and continued with La Notte, is arguably a great film, but still a cut or two below its immediate predecessor, the indisputably brilliant La Notte, simply because it lacks the story and excellent portrayal of a human relationship that that earlier film has. It is, however, a superior film to L'Avventura, in that its sustains it sublime weirdness and disaffecting qualities throughout the film, whereas that first film in the trilogy petered out into a dull ending after an intriguing and mysterious premise.
This 125 minute film does not suffer from that ill, and is certainly the most Antonionian of the three films, in that it contains the trademark bizarreness of his soundtrack mixed with the runic symbolism and bizarre framing of shots that achieves the effect of alienation perfectly, if also subliminally. While it lacks the natural visual splendor of L'Avventura and the emotional drive of La Notte, this film never quite falls into predictability, even though it seems to dare the viewer into believing it will, and that it is really a love story. In truth, the film is an anti-love story, for it follows its lead character, Vittoria (MonicaVitti), a translator of literature, from the end of one shallow and passionless love affair, with a writer named Riccardo (Francisco Rabal), at the film's beginning, through the start and abrupt end of another shallow and passionless affair, with a stockbroker named Piero (Alain Delon), and then simply discards her as easily as she tosses away her lovers, and ends with a visual essay of sorts, on the terminal state of modern existence. Vittoria embodies this emotional anomy when she laments to Piero, in the few minutes that we see the true start and end of their affair, that she wished she didn't love him at all, or loved him much more. Then the film spends almost ten minutes in that essay, pulling us out of the world that its lead characters have familiarized ourselves with, as if to state that their lives were only randomly eavesdropped upon, and that the film could have easily turned its dispassionate eye upon any of the characters, mundane and bizarre, that we see shambling through its Roman suburban streets.
There is a sense that all of the inhabitants of this end world are zombies, of a sort, and it is not without a sense of the zeitgeist of the times that during the same year, 1962, that this film was released, over in America, a B film classic with eerily similar imagery and an even more haunting soundtrack, was released. That film was industrial filmmaker and documentarian (just as Antonioni started out as a documenatarian) Herk Harvey's lone fictional film, the brilliant low budget horror film Carnival Of Souls, in which the tale opens with a drag race that has one car crash over the side of a bridge. Its one survivor, a thin, pretty, but disoriented, blond, who has an aversion to the shallow male of the species, wanders cross-country and is haunted by bizarre beings that chase her, even as no one else is aware of them. Eventually, she is destroyed by them, and it is revealed that her dead body is still in the car, that is dredged up from the river, at film's end. Antonioni has a similar scene in his film, although earlier in his film, where a corpse is recovered from Piero's car, after it has plunged into a river when a drunk steals it. Harvey's film had a profound impact on the subsequent mythos of George Romero's Night Of The Living Dead, and its many sequel and imitators, as did another American B horror film, made in 1964, adapted from Richard Matheson's sci fi-horror novel I Am Legend. That was the classic Vincent Price vampiric bio-terror chiller The Last Man On Earth, whose imagery of deserted and blanched out urban streets are the closest things to an Antonionian vision American film, A or B, has produced. The end of Antonioni' film has such a strong affinity with those films that it is no wonder that many critics consider his cinematic world not to be a portrayal of our own real world, but some odd universe just next door. And, there are many moments one could imagine the then current The Twilight Zone hoist, Rod Serling, emerging from beneath some enigmatic piece of architecture, and declaiming on the angst of this film's characters.... All in all, the whole film does not proceed in a linear fashion, but this is its grace note, for it sidles forth, like a sidewinder, or perhaps, even more tellingly, like a crab, herkily and jerkily, yet lulling and luring the viewer into its odd dance, which is, what I would call `the theater of disaffection', which is one that may have not been founded by Antonioni, for Ingmar Bergman's films pioneered that milieu first, but is the one which Antonioni most definitely made his own. Would that such presumption would reign again in the arts, and we would not have the likes of the people who list through this film's end currently deciding who gets published and lauded or what good young independent filmmaker gets good distribution. Here, again, the film is its own plaint's answer. I would tell you more but then this essay might not end so-
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Hyperreal
rating: 5
L'Eclisse is shot in long takes in black/white. The picture and transfer is unearthly, it almost looks hyperreal! I find the visuals of L'Eclisse more interesting than the narrative (at least for now, I will re-watch it later). We follow Monica Vitti and Alain Delon in their attempt for a love affair. We also get some lively scenes from the stock exchange in Rome which are very exciting. The pace of the film is slow with long takes and not much dialogue - if you want action and a clear plot and message this is not for you! What L'Eclisse is really about can of course be discussed: is it about hopeless love, about alienation in modern society, or about the problems of human communication and contact, and so on? The ending is open for many interpretations. Maybe it is simply about beautiful images, about how beautiful the world can seem like in cinema?
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The Electric Fan
rating: 5
**Spoilers**
L'Eclisse is essentially a love story, or at least an almost love story. Both lead actors are highly attractive and very little real conflict exists to keep them apart. Antonioni could have chosen more mundane circumstances if he simply wished to express the dullness of everyday life, or a lack of passion, or an inability to connect. Instead we are given two vibrant characters, the gorgeous blonde Vittoria, who dances and plays with dogs and laughs at drunkards, and the handsome Pierro, who works his way into a successful position in the busy world of the stock market. The characters themselves are not lacking in life or vitality. The world they exist in, however, seems to numb all passion. The streets are bare, filled with buildings rather than people, dirt rather than flowers. The passion seems to drain in the same way the rain-barrel drains at the end of the movie, dissipating into the city and becoming nothing. It seems to say, life itself has lost its vibrancy, its point. Even the stock market, the bustling center of commerce, is pointless. The shouts and phone calls never amount to anything. Antonioni gives us twenty minutes to watch this bustle, which is initially exciting, but eventually becomes mundane, like watching a trail of ants. Vittoria follows a man who has lost millions in the stock market to a café and finds that he has drawn flowers on his napkin. Not even such a loss really matters. There is a horrible inability to connect to this world. It is utterly distant from the people it contains.
The entire film is summarized in the first scene of the movie. It is a break up scene and one might expect cries or yelling, but no passion is to be found. Vittoria wanders aimlessly, rearranging the apartment. She holds up a frame, moving the objects behind it as though if she could get them just right she might be happier. She seems to echo Antonioni, framing his characters in the film. There is an interminable restlessness about her. Her hair is constantly rustling in the wind of an electric fan. She seems to be waiting for something. Perhaps for some emotion, some sign of life. As she waits the audience waits as well. There is a collective yearning for something to happen. This restlessness continues throughout the film. In the stock market there is a moment of silence for a colleague that has passed away. Even as the brokers become quiet the telephones continue to ring. Later on, when Vittoria and Pierro are achingly close to having a true moment of passion, the doorbell rings. Vittoria leaves and Pierro's telephones resume ringing. There is a continual disquiet underlying the entire film.
Perhaps what makes this film so restless is precisely the fact that is an art film. When one is continually exposed to the world of mainstream film, one becomes used to a release, a letting go. Eventually every conflict builds and releases. In L'Eclisse the basic conflict is precisely the lack of conflict. The film becomes self-reflexive. The film raises an interesting dilemma because it seems to state that unhappiness results from nothing in particular. Perhaps life consists of long blocks of unhappiness punctuated by brief periods of happiness. But the brief moments of happiness are not brought on by miraculous outside circumstances. They escape from within the characters. The little poodle, for instance, seems to distract Vittoria from the urban world's cold restlessness. She is truly happy for a brief moment before the usurping restlessness of the city reclaims her, perfectly represented here by the alien rattling of the flagpoles in the night. We see Vittoria in the darkness from a high angle as she approaches a bronze statue. The angle suddenly reverses to show the statue from below, looming over her and emphasizing the dominance of society over little Vittoria. It seems to say, "one day you too will be a statue." It is not human nature to be unhappy; the city itself suppresses happiness.
As many science fiction films like Metropolis and Blade Runner use the city as a warning of technology that may get out of hand, L'Eclisse seems to say we have already come too far. The monolithic structure looming outside Riccardo's apartment seems to be a watchtower, observing the little people below it. The apartment buildings in the distance seem to tower over Vittoria as she returns to her apartment. The only reprieve from the concrete world seems to be Pierro's parents house. It is old and cluttered with things. It feels as though somebody actually lives here. Vittoria looks out the window and sees a church letting out a crowd of people. Yet even here she is distanced. She finds Pierro's room and examines a pen. It is a novelty pen with a woman on it. As she turns the pen the woman's clothing disappears. Perhaps this is the sexuality, the playfulness that has been left behind in this old house. Pierro's room is a little blander than the other rooms. The youth has moved out. Not even here can they honestly express themselves. Pierro wants to kiss Vittoria, but she will only let him when there is a pane of glass in the way. They are so close to breaking free from the confines of the city, but once again, find themselves restrained.
The closest the couple comes to a true breakthrough comes at the corner. Pierro tells Vittoria that when they get to the other side of the crosswalk he will kiss her. They start to cross, but stop midway. Perhaps the city is pulling them back once again. This insignificant moment is the film's anticlimax. They do make it to the other side, and they do kiss, but it isn't substantial. The corner is a place of construction. The city does not yet have full reign here, but it is only a matter of time. Vittoria tosses a stick into the water-barrel, perhaps to mark the spot, perhaps out of boredom. Once again she is arranging objects in the frame. She is moving things, but is never moved herself. Later on Pierro tosses his matchbook in. He as well is restless. She, with her calm life about town, and he, with is yelling at the stock market, both are lost in the pointlessness of modern life. So too is the man who drew flowers, as well as Vittoria's mother. All people are stuck in the monotony. The film ends in a montage of this restlessness. People waiting for the bus, old men, even children, all are searching, waiting. We draw to a close on the street lamp, a glowing orb in the dark. Perhaps its light was stolen from the people of the city. Perhaps it's luminance once belonged the people below. Now only the street lamp shines in the dark.
The ending is far from satisfying, but it is not meant to be. It represents the interrupted and the unfinished. It echoes a very real unhappiness that all people feel at some point in time. If mainstream cinema can be said to be entertainment, L'Eclisse is certainly not "entertaining" in the typical sense of the word. It shows that film can be something other than an escape from life, but a mirror of it. It is exactly the feeling of restlessness in L'Eclisse that the viewer wishes to escape. In this way L'Eclisse documents the very feeling it conveys. It reflects more than a story, it reflects human nature. It discards typical movie tropes and shows that film is more than a medium of narrative. Film is an art form that can express the human condition. It can express pure emotion without relying upon the artificial contrivances of story. It states, "Life itself is worth watching." In this way L'Eclisse, not only fits within the category of art film, but may also be the epitome of what art film is.
The art film is willing to break free of convention. It dares to let the audience feel bored, or uncomfortable, or upset. Its ultimate goal is not to show off actors or to distract audiences with clever screenwriting, but to express an idea. What poetry is to fiction, art film is to mainstream cinema. It is first and foremost the work of its director, an expression. It expresses emotion rather than events. In this way Antonioni's L'Eclisse is truly a masterpiece. It succinctly conveys the feeling of oppression, of frustration and of restlessness without overwhelming the viewer. There is a magnificent subtlety to the film that is rarely captured elsewhere. It is a masterful work of absurdist fiction comparable to Camus' The Stranger.
Art film may be difficult to define, but L'Eclisse brings a definition one step closer to completion. It defines itself by its stark contrast to mainstream cinema and its unconventional narrative. It expresses a terrible discordance between people and their surroundings. It reflects basic unhappiness without placing blame or overwhelming the viewer. Ultimately it places emphasis upon emotions rather than events, epitomizing what an art film can be.
Perhaps Vittoria will find happiness some day; perhaps Pierro will win his money back in the stock market. The film leaves no hints for prediction. Neither optimism nor pessimism but simply waiting... Well, we're half way there.
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The film genius of Michelangelo Antonioni: L'eclisse.
rating: 5
L'eclisse (The Eclipse) (1962) is the conclusion of Michelangelo Antonioni's trilogy on malaise and the alienation of man in the modern world. It follows L'Avventura (1960) and La Notte (1961), and tells the story of a young woman, Vittoria (Monica Vitti) who leaves one lover (Francisco Rabal) only to drift into another relationship with a young, materialistic, cocky, stockbroker, Piero (Alain Delon). Their doomed affair is set against the architecture of Rome, and amidst the crowded and chaotic Rome Stock Market. In the end, Vittoria rejects a marriage proposal and chooses to be alone in an uncertain world instead. The point seems to be, if we can't escape from ourselves, how can we ever really be with anyone else. The film explores characteristic Antonioni themes: loneliness, alienation, living in a cold, materialistic world and the inability to communicate.
The Criterion edition of this film features newly a restored high-definition digital transfer, audio commentary by Richard Peña, program director of the Film Society of Lincoln Center, in New York, "Michelangelo Antonioni: The Eye That Changed Cinema," a 56-minute documentary exploring the director's life and career, "Elements of Landscape," a new, 22-minute video piece about Antonioni and L'eclisse, featuring Italian film critic Adriano Aprà and longtime Antonioni friend Carlo di Carlo, new and improved English subtitle translation, and a 32-page booklet featuring new essays by film critics Jonathan Rosenbaum and Gilberto Perez, along with reprinted excerpts from Antonioni's own writings about his work. Highly recommended.
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Criterion in Full Bloom : Italy as Poetry
rating: 4
Slow, languid shots of blonde Monica Vitti as she strolls through an empty Italian marketplace. Remarkable closeups of the stunning Alain Delon. Breathtaking black and white overheads of the mesmerising Italian landscapes and Roman architecture.
This is not so much a movie as it is one beautiful postcard after another. The physical beauty of the two lead actors alone will have you enthralled. Monica Vitti (in a much better role than 'L'Avventura') plays a woman torn between two men. Alain Delon, in his day considered the most beautiful man on earth, lights up the screen and its impossible to take your eyes off the Frenchman.
When the two get together there is often no dialog, just long passages of time with silence interspersed with their breathing. Granted, this is not a film for everyone, but if you're looking to enrich your visual senses with true ITALIAN ART, then this is the film for you. True, any film that had two supermodels as their lead will be 'watchable' but here the director converts their obvious physical beauty into transcedental art, and that should not be missed.
Criterion's best transfer, even better than their transfer of "Children of Paradise".
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L'Eclisse - Criterion Collection
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