My hair hurts.
This is one of the miracles of cinema.
Every frame a painting with a caméra–stylo.
One critic will boil it down to “mental illness”.
And Monica Vitti does that very well.
Red hair. Red desert.
But we should know Antonioni by now.
This is that existential nausea you used to hear of at coffee shops.
Except the coffee shops no longer exist.
And Manhattan is a ghost ship with no one on board. Saying nothing.
No doubt Kubrick visited this for 2001. And George Lucas for THX 1138.
But we are more interested in Godard.
Il Deserto rosso is a film for filmmakers.
Mulholland Dr. stands no chance.
Because, yes, we all feel like this.
The floating world in Japanese mythology.
No doubt Kurosawa pinched the end bit for Dreams.
That’s what makes Il Deserto rosso a watershed film.
In the shed. Surrounded by water.
Roman atavism at the group level.
I’m not getting anywhere.
The critics will cry “overwrought”.
What we have here is really a sick sadness.
Feel too much.
Bowie’s Low title is above the artist in profile.
And that color.
Bow down to the master Michelangelo.
One of the true auteurs.
For the uninitiated it will seem unbearably pretentious.
Or just confusing.
It will seem that there is no plot.
And, indeed, in space there is no “up” or “down”.
There are simply bodies with sufficient mass to exert gravity.
Is that the way to say it?
Is that how it works?
Because we are all floating, right?
32 feet per second per second.
Acceleration of falling bodies.
God bless her…
Always a sinking feeling.
Because her husband is a vapid jerk.
And the most sensitive guy can’t get close enough…cause she’s nuts.
Makes perfect sense.
Our own worst fears played out by the players on the screen.
Sei personaggi in cerca d’autore.
Logic bombs and bombs of illogic.
The latter in Dadaism.
Hackers who terrorize simply to make their point.
Legacy networks and newer nets introduced in phases…
Allowing for GDP, profit margin, and public sector infrastructure.
Which is to say, DARPA.
And where does the film critic fit in?
Merely as a voice…reminding…don’t forget your Sun Tzu.
Everything else will be diverted to slag heaps and holding tanks.
Opaque tanks…glowing green like antifreeze.
Does this sound like a fun adventure?
Then Il Deserto rosso is for you.
And for me.
Because I identify with Monica Vitti’s character so much.
Afraid of everything.
My hair hurts.