Lena Wertmuller and Liliana Cavani:
Knee-jerk Anger and Slow Understanding for The Black Sheep of Italian Feminist
Film. (Italian contemporary women film-makers 1973-1976).
Io Sono Mia (I
Belong To Me), Sofia Scandura’s[1]
one and only picture, was produced in 1978 as result of the rise of second-wave
feminism. It is a good reference point for this essay, because it marks the
first time women’s movement directly
addressed the mass market in Italy in a non-documentary feature-length
production[2].
Scandura presented her audience with a established storyline; a woman is
dissatisfied with her uncaring husband, makes friends with a group of
feminists, and thereby gains the courage to leave him. Its narrative is
simplistic and trite and follows an easily recognisable ideological formula
which is unfulfilling.
This essay deals with the years before such
an openly feminist film like Io Sono Mia could be made. Specifically it deals with two women film directors, Lena
Wertmuller and Liliana Cavani. Their names are often mentioned in the same
breath because they were far and away the most prominent women film-makers in
Italy before 1978[3]. Their
styles are not dissimilar, and their rejection of a straight-forward feminist
ideology like Scandura’s has provoked comment, apologies, and anger from some
feminists (These specific criticisms will be dealt with later on). The films
that stand out (and that are most commonly available) from this mid-seventies
period are Wertmuller’s Love &
Anarchy (1973)[4], Swept Away (1975)[5],
Seven Beauties (1976) [6],
and Cavani’s Night Porter (1974)[7].
These four films must been seen in the
context of the growing social movements
in Italy. The popular resurgence of left-wing movements in 1968 kept up its
momentum through the seventies[8].
This provoked a re-analysis of the 1941-45 war and whether fascism, as an
ideology, had really been purged from the psyche of Italy’s ruling classes.
Italy had not suffered the same post-war humiliation that German had, and as
such Italian film-makers could touch of the subject of fascism with relative
freedom.
This re-analysis of fascism is reflected in
the male directed landmark films of the era, mainly Visconti’s The Damned (1971, he died in 1976), Pasolini’s Salo (1975, murdered by a mob a month later), Bertolucci’s 1900 (1976). These directors were were
committed social reform, and both Bertolucci and Pasolini were prominent
homosexuals who had a good grasp of sexual politics.
The Italian film making scene was based in
Rome, and there was a good interaction of ideas between the film community
because of its relatively small size[9].
There was also no big ‘film’ industry as such apart from television, and people
like Wertmuller continued to direct theatre well after she started
collaborating on films with Fellini[10].
Cavani started making films for TV to do with Mussolini, Hitler, and one about
women fighters who had been part of the partisan resistance. She was
specifically interested in the nature of ‘good’ and ‘evil’, and how these old
moral binaries operated during times of war[11].
It was her investigative journalism into the personal experiences of victims
after the war that inspired her to make The
Night Porter. [12]
Acker, who attacked Wertmuller, emphasised
the fact that she was ‘allowed’[13]
to make cinema by the patriarchy. She levels this lance at Cavani too. It is
indisputable that during the 60s both these women directors were at the mercy
of an exclusively male-dominated industry. Cavani’s living income came from her
TV documentaries, and Wertmuller used Fellini’s money until she had established
a sufficient reputation to be able to gain funding on her own. By the time they
directed the films that are discussed below, they had full directorial control,
and were free to produce the stories they wished. Annabella Misculgio says the
feminist movement took “blind objection” to Wertmuller in the 70s, (Such a
reaction is wholly understandable after Swept
Away came out in 1976). However she
goes on to warn critics against “the dangers of self-segregation”[14].
Cavani and Wertmuller could have become mouthpieces for the women’s movement,
but they chose to follow their own paths, and sometimes deliberately provoked
the feminist press.
It is best to start with Cavani, and her only
movie which is freely available nowadays, the notorious Night Porter. It was met with the following criticism,
“[there is an
implication that] those imprisoned by the Nazis share in their jailor’s
depravity… the victims, The Night Porter
would have us believe are just as guilty as their torturers.”[15]
And…
“Possibly, though
I doubt it, Miss Cavani is less interested in the banality of evil or its
psychology than in what she tries to picture as the eroticism of it.”[16]
In response to this analysis Teresa De
Lauretis took it upon herself, in the face of a huge amount of adverse opinion,
to explain the why The Night Porter
is a woman’s film[17].
She drew inspiration for her stance from a positive review by Molly Haskell[18]
in the alternative press, published four months after the initial reviews
surfaced in the mainstream papers. In her article she points out that the
experience of Lucia (the woman victim) was a real one, with reference to
Cavani’s interviews with former concentration camp interns. De Lauretis
explains that
“The Night Porter is more profoundly a woman’s film than Cries and Whispers, A Woman Under the Influence, Love and Anarchy,
and many other recent films by and about women ….[38] truly and profoundly dialectic, the point of consciousness,
the core of perception, the sensor nerve is Lucia’s.” [19]
She concludes by saying “consciousness and a
new self-image for women cannot be achieved by repression, exorcism or
ignorance of history past and present”[20].
Ally Acker, in 1991,
dismissed this point of view.
“With the Night Porter (1974), Cavani drew wide
attention in America. In this sadomasochistic look at a love affair between a
woman and her Nazi tormentor fifteen years after the war, the use of kinky
fascist imagery was more difficult to bear than anything Wertmuller attempted
in Seven Beauties.”[21]
Acker’s criticism of Lucia and Max’s
relationship are based upon the fact that the images are ‘kinky’. Kinky
connotes more than perversion, it is usually used in a derisive and patronising
way. She uses the word in her paragraph on Wertmuller’s Seven Beauties too. Acker marginalises women involved in S/M, by
using linking S/M and ‘kinky’ in a negative way, as somehow unnatural, and
un-feminist. Carol Queen says,
“Feminism has
made the mistake of overestimating its area of expertise…. Some women are
deeply damaged by this absence of support. .. … most of us do not eroticise
spanking and other pervy joys out of a lack of self-worth” [22]
With the exception of Love and Anarchy, the other three films have big S/M scenes. In The Night Porter Lucia/Max the
sadomasochistic relationship takes up most of the film. In Seven Beauties Pasqaulino seduces the camp commandant, and in Swept Away Gennario beats Raffaela into
sexual submission. The inclusion of S&M theory into feminism may not yeild a positive response
to Swept Away, but it transforms The Night Porter. Ally Acker seems to
have taken the view that the image of a woman whose pleasure is derived from
violence not speak to female viewers. This viewpoint is rather contentious.
Linda Williams outlines the other side of the debate[23] which
argues for the existence of bona fide female identification and pleasure
with S/M films.
Swept Away is a extreme
example which illustrates that although there maybe female indentification in
some S/M texts, there are some which are rightly condemned by anyone who is
interested in women’s liberation. In movie-guides Swept Away’s basic plot summary reads like The Night Porter’s, only this time set on a desert island. This is
a purely superficial similarity as the interaction between the characters is
entirely different. Wertmuller produced it after seeing The Night Porter and it seems she is deliberately trying to provoke
controversy. Wertmuller was conversant with feminist film theory, and also with
the negative reviews of The Night Porter,
yet she went ahead and made an even more outrageous film. In her interview
with Gideon Bachmann she said,
“Man, humiliated
by work, returns and creates his private slave in the home. Stronger, he can
take it all out on her. Man has his own private Third World. This is how he
became a king, by having a slave. And we try to take away that last security
valve! Imagine what’s happening to his frustrations and aggressions now! What will remain of man? This is a problem
which is at least as grave as that of the enslavement of women.”[24]
This makes sense of why Swept Away is a Marxist class analysis. Wertmuller refuses to see
feminism as being helpful unless it is accompanied by a revolutionary change in
society’s structure. She deliberately made Raffaela into something that
feminists would despise. She purposely made the most “patriarchal-applauded”[25]
cinema she could. The climax of this is when Raffaela, days after being raped,
urges her ‘master’ to sodomise her. Scene like that are an open invitation for
feminists to walk out of the theatre. Wertmuller must have been aware of what
would follow. Ally Acker issued a scathing response,
“Swept Away (1975) displays the most
conscious mass ridicule of the female, which we learn that all that any woman
needs to straighten her out is a good fuck”[26].
Margaret Pomerantz put the best spin on it
she could, “Swept Away… gets away
with a lot because it is so obviously a satire”[27].
Pomerantz hoped Wertmuller was satirising, because the alternative is quite unthinkable.
It is highly probable that Wertmuller made Swept
Away simply to upset the feminist lobby, who was looking to her to voice
their opinions, and thus maintain her “independence”.
From her interview with Bachman it is clear
that Wertmuller is contemptous of any feminist activity that does not work in a
political context. Love and Anarchy is
a productive and non-satirical view of a community of prostitutes under fascist
rule. Wertmuller sees communes of prostitutes as a positive society on the
fringes of a strict hegemonic fascist state. It is only prostitutes who can
refuse the nuclear family (one of her pet hates), and subvert fascism’s obsession with genital pleasure[28].
Prostitutes deal in penises and
vaginas, but because it is their work, they rise above it. This is contrasted
with the black-shirt commandant is obsessed with his penis and his whores.
Together the prostitutes form a community which fosters revolution, and
provides Tunin the anarchist with a home. He falls in love with a prostitute,
Tripolina, who reciprocates and gives up her work for a few days before he
decides to commit the assassination (which is tantamount to suicide). It is
never suggested that this is a ‘marriage’ and a return to patriarchal norms.
Peter Biskind is dead wrong when he writes,
“The brothel
mirrors the regimentation of the fascist state. Female sexuality has been
assimilated to thr system of capitalist commodity exchange. For these women
family and private life have ceased to exist, thereby rendering their longing
for love and personal satisfaction more pathetic and desperate.”
On the contrary, the group of prostitutes are
free to do what they like. They work during the day in plush apartments, and at
night Wertmuller focuses on their communal meal, which ends with a beautiful
song played on guitar. They are all dressed in carnivalesque clothing, and they
all tease each other, but not in a harmful way. (“mutual recrimination and
bickering which reflects their competitive position” is Baskind’s
interpretation of the ‘hysterical’ female). The banquets, overdone make-up,
costume, laughter and satire all fit nicely into Bakhtin’s coinage of the
‘grotesque’[29], a concept
which highlights male fears of woman when she ceases to be the ‘Other’[30].
The brothel is run by a strict but reasonable
mistress who takes care of the women. Although they are under the thumb of the
patriarchy all the prostitutes are happier than most people under the fascist
state. Their refusal of a separation public and private spheres is liberating,
but again, Biskind sees this as incarcerating.
In Seven
Beauties, Wertmuller uses the community of prostitutes as a way of
remaining ‘pure’ ideologically, by living on the margins of the main system.
Thus Pasquolino’s post-war wife is a prostitute – and nothing critical is said,
in fact the opposite is suggested; it is as if she has saved herself. To
Wertmuller, true corruption would come from assimilating into the fascist
state.
The films of Cavani and Wertmuller describe
their feelings towards a society which sought to transform them into a vehicle
for the organised women’s movement. Wertmuller rejected this stance by putting
her own class-based analysis and gender theories above those of established
feminist writers. Cavani, also, went with an individual’s portrait of the
world, as is evinced in her interview with the survivors of Auschwitz and
Dachau. They made sure by not avoiding controversy, and sometimes inviting it,
that their films are considered their own, and were not dismissed like Io Sono Mia has been. They are two
artists who have a “great creativity… rich ambiguity”[31].
They will not only be remember by the effect of their films, but in the huge
amounts of women film-makers who picked up a camera to clarify the ambiguities
they opened up.
[1] Sofia Scandura is well known in Rome as a playwright and theatre director. She runs a school for young film-makers in the summer.
[2] “Women’s slogans arrive on the big screen. This was the first big feminist venture into commercial cinema”, as per Annabella Misculgio “An Affectionate and Irreverant Account of Eighty Years of Women’s Cinema in Italy”, in Off Screen: Women and Film in Italy, ed. G.Bruno, M. Nadotti, 1988, p. 160.
[3] Mira Lehm, Passion and Defiance: Film in Italy From 1942 to the Present, US, 1984, p. 198.
[4] The anglicised title is considerably shorter than Wertmuller’s italian one. Film d'amore e d'anarchia, ovvero stamattina alle 10 in via dei Fori nella nota casa di tolleranza. She has quite a few lengthy film titles.
[5] Italian title: Travolti da un insolito destino nell'azzurro
mare d'Agosto
[6] Italian title: Pasqualino Settebellezze
[7] Italian title: Il Portiere di Notte
[8] In 1972 Police attacked protesters with truncheons at the first big demonstration organised by the women’s movement. In 1974, women film makers were censored when they filmed a prostitute at work. (as per Annabella Misculgio, op cit., p.155)
[9] See Appendix : Document B, for short biographies of Cavani and Wertmuller. They both ended up in Rome at around the same time.
[10] She was assistant director on 8½ (1963).
[11] Mira Lehm, op cit., p. 198.
[12] See her diary : Appedix: Document A
[13] Ally Acker, Reel Women: pioneers of the cinema, 1896 to the present, Continum, 1991, USA, p.323
[14] Annabella Miscuglio, op cit, p.155.
[15] Joy Gould Boyum, Wall Street Journal, October 7, 1974 quoted by De Lauretis
[16] Vincent Canby, New York Times, October 31, 1974 quoted by De Lauretis, see reference below.
[17] Teresa De Lauretis, Cavani’s Night-Porter: A Woman’s Film?, Film Quarterly, 30:2, 1976/77 Winter, p.35
[18] Village Voice, February 3, 1975
[19] Teresa De Lauretis, op cit., p.38
[20] ibid.
[21] Ally Acker, op. cit, p.324.
[22] Carol Queen “The Bottom Line”, Skin Two, UK, May 1996, quoted in Katrien Jacobs’ “The Lady of Little Death”, Wide Angle, July 1997, USA, 19:3, p. 31.
[23] Linda Williams, “Hard-Core”, USA, 1999, p. 195ff.
[24] Gidon Bachmann, “Look Gideon…”, Film Quarterly, 30:3, 1977 Spring, p.2.
[25] Ally Acker, Reel Women: pioneers of the cinema, 1896 to the present, Continum, 1991, USA, p.323
[26] ibid.
[27] Margeret Pomerantz, speaking on SBS TV 1993.
[28] Wertmuller’s interview with Bachmann, see citation above. See Jacobs’ comment on Jean Genet’s The Balcony 1958, in “The Lady of Little Death”, Wide Angle, July 1997, USA, 19:3, p. 32.
[29] Mikhail Bakhtin, “Rabelais and His World”, trans. Helen Iswolsky, US, 1984. The Baseline Encyclopedia (@http://www.1worldfilms.com/lena_wertmuller.htm), refers to Wertmuller as such “[L.W. is a] director whose grotesque/comic treatments of weighty political, social and sexual themes earned her a sizeable cult following…. Etc…”.
[30] Mary Russo, “Female Grotesques : Carnival and Theory”, Feminist Studies Critical Studies, Ed. Teresa De Lauretis, 1986, US, pp213-29.
[31] Annabella Miscuglio, op cit, p.155.