This film should only be watched for the sake of the aesthetic pleasure: it's a beautifully assembled shots, colours and scenes all at once and nothing more. For me it was rather pretentious and pseudo philosophic. The shots were great, and there were lots of scenes I fancied greatly, but overall no meaning. A film solely for the eyes to be honest.
Bertolucci's filmic manifest of 1968. Inspired by Dostojewsky, Godard, Buñuel and other influences, he shows Giacobbe who get's mad on his love and on the madness of the world. More and more the spectator shares the crazy perception of him when the furnitures are painted in a tromp l'oeil, when the camera circles around, when on the washing line are books and fishes. What is real and what is just in Giaccobes mind?