L'eclisse (1962)

I am a little embarrassed to admit it, but: I was blown away by the sheer beauty and languid pace of L’eclisse. This is not a film about people. The locations seem to play the main parts. As was the case in Red Desert, all characters are embedded in their surroundings – perhaps not being swallowed by them, but I’d say that just as there is a ghostly non-presence in the locations, the same goes for the characters, of whom we know next to nothing, and which have a habit of appearing and disappearing mysteriously. If I were in a more critical state of mind, I’d say something about the portrayal of the main female character (Vitti) in this film; the capricious, elusive presence/non-presence that of course titillates the male characters. Oh well, females are enigmatic creatures, for sure. What makes me hold back my complaints is the fact that the non-presence of Vitti’s character actually has a point in this film. Or at least I think it does. Alienation, and so on, and so forth. Yes, that. Vitti’s character trusts nobody. We can never be sure whether she is bored, or worried, or something else. Every movement is ambiguous. Vitti is good at that type of tricks; the complex laugh, a fidgety withdrawal, a cautious look, a stare into nowhere. 

Well, somewhere in the film, there’s even a love story. Or, rather, a story about fear of love and intimacy. The romantic encounter doesn’t occur until almost half the film is through. Vitti’s character is courted by a stockbroker. At first, she refuses his romantic suggestions, and when she begins to open up to him, she is once again pulled back – ambiguity is ever-present. But rather than taking an interest in romantic development, Antonioni once again turns to the surroundings, the locations. Vitti’s character and the stockbroker take walks; his car has been stolen, and is dredged from the see (the stockbroker is not worried about the man in the car, rather he thinks about selling his car), a street corner takes on an almost magical meaning (again: meaning riddled with hesitation).

For a film about the modern state of mind, L’Eclisse is surprisingly lush. The contrast between wide-angle images of an empty city and close-ups of faces and interiors work particularly well. Antonioni knows how to appreciate the force of detail. Bric-a-brac, a pinetree, a streetlight, a wall, a doorway. The wind rustles in a tree – Rome goes Twin Peaks. But don’t misunderstand. The film is not dedicated to simple beauty. In a few lengthy scenes, Antonioni takes us to a stock market, where Vitti’s widowed mother tries to make some serious money. The atmosphere in the stock market is dreadful. The place looks almost like a church, with echoes and gigantic colons. People run, shout, talk, smoke, move back and forth. Antonioni makes it clear that just like Vitti’s fidgety girl, we cannot be quite sure what is the ulterior motive of these stockbrokers and potential capitalists. All is caprice. Vitti’s character asks Piero, the lover, about stocks. He talks about passion. Passion for what, Vitti skeptically quizzes. We see two faces of modernity here: the busy atmosphere of the market, and Vitti’s idle strolls in an empty-looking city. Do real people live in that city? For all its romantic (or whatever one should call it) attention to details, there is something highly unnerving about the film’s approach to space. And this is what I appreciate most in it. – It seems only natural that the film ends wordlessly, with a series of haunting images of locations in the film. The main characters are no longer with us - it's just the landscapes. A great ending that hints at emotional apocalypse.