Red desert (1964)

Antonioni knew exactly what he was doing when he directed Red desert. Aesthetically, it is convincing. Actually, it is a marvelous, chillingly dazzling work of dystopian art. It is evident that the relation between the different aspects of the films is meticulously worked through. The soundtrack, a very retrofuturistic affair, is thrilling, as is the dynamic and expressive use of colors. One might depict the film as Playtime’s tragic twin sister. Both Antonioni and Tati depict the alienation of modern life in. Tati transforms modernity into impossible landscapes, eerie machines and people who simply don’t fit into this world of mechanisms. Antonioni’s film starts with panning camera movements. We see indistinct, blurry images of gray, industrial landscapes. Then: billowing, yellow smoke from a smokestack. The color contrast is mind-blowing: the sharpness of yellow against the backdrop of a grey sky. The sound we hear is a persistent industrial fizz. Humans are introduced into the scenery. There is a strike. A woman in a green coat looks at a group of strikers. One man encourages a blackleg to get out from the factory. The camera follows the woman in green. She buys a sandwich from a man. She looks confused, maybe scared. A gasp of breath is contrasted with the numb fizz. While she eats the sandwich, the camera tracks the paths of sickly landscape. The next scene takes place in the factory. It is quite a shock to be transported from the dirt of the previous scenes into the neat and tidy engineering section of the factory. Here, no dirt is tolerated. A snipped of conversation is heard. We learn that workers are hard to find for some work abroad. Machines are hollering. The sound almost drowns the words spoken. Also here, there are unexpected explosions of color. This shows somehow that not even the factory can be sorted into one piece of reality. A few scenes later on, the camera explores the woman’s sterile apartment. Her son’s room is cluttered with colorful robots. Their mechanic eyes shimmer in the dark. The visual expression is stunning.

Red desert takes places in the land of Dystopia, among desolate industrial landscape, billowing smoke and ramshackle “cottages” by a dead-looking sea. Even the characters’ homes lack every trace of warmth and intimacy. The world of Red desert is narrated from Giuliana’s perspective. She is the woman in green, wife of Ugo, a lukewarm factory manager. Giuliana has an affair. Or at least, there is a certain man in her life who thinks she is having one. Giuliana is the only character who reacts to the decay of the surrounding world in a strong way. In one scene, she is walking in a drab-looking alley with the man who pursues her. Suddenly, her gaze is frozen. Eerie music underlines a sense of fear. A man is sitting beside a cart with eggs. She stares at the man. The image is blurred. (This is the kind of thing Fassbinder is so in love with: the fear embedded in ordinary life) It’s a stunning moment, a very short moment, but it is executed masterfully to create the intended effect.

Of course, Giuliana is depicted as emotionally fragile, on the verge of a breakdown. One could criticize the film for its stereotypical characterization of women, always more sensitive than men. On the other hand, we are not to take a psychological interest in Giuliana. With its formalized language, the film encourages us not to. She is a product of society, as are the men that surround her. Every bit of surrounding in the film can at the same time be interpreted as a state of mind – and the other way around. As a result, all characters are paper-thin. Even though Antonioni’s film has a relation to Marxist critique of alienating relations, there is no – at least I don’t see it – dialectic movement here. This does not mean there is no tension within the film. There are moments when the deadening rhythm of small talk and business is broken. As I said, there are also moments of visual and aural disruption. The world, which these characters inhabit, is presented as a static one. Eruptions of frantic energy (a quasi-sexual orgy among a circle of friends), make up yet another side of alienation; feverish emotion is no less estranged than neutral and businesslike demeanor. Viewing the closing scenes, very little has happened, with regard to story.

It is difficult not to be immersed in the world evoked by the film. The film has an enormous pull. With the exception of some minor flaws, this is a fantastic film.