Hints of Antonioni to come, not properly there yet though; but it's an important node that will lead to La signora senza camelie and Il grido: Milan, with its shadows, its architecture, has yet to become the well finished character it'll be in La notte, but you can see that it does start to be intentionally shaped. Serafin's photography is really impressive and Lucia Bosè suits very well in such a classy character.
Such a confident piece of film-making: visually precise, the shots held just that little bit longer than you expect, the contrast between the off-kilter solo sax and piano score with the noisy music of the social scene. The shadow of the war is omnipresent, both psychologically and in the setting, as is Antonioni's concern with social alienation and existential questions around responsibility and action. Stunning.
Yes the sound ofte, n made it sound like they were filming under a motorway, and some of the music was a little jarring, but man, those frocks...the one she wore in the "common" nightclub when she bought another stunning dress at auction, was just WOW. And that clutch, muff, handbag, so clever. But obviously was probably real fur, as were all those coats, but those, alas, were the times. Nice little offering.
An admirable first feature from Antonioni. He already shows a strong visual style in the framing of shots, as well as an informed eye for integrating natural landscapes and architecture into compositions. The plodding narrative is routinely handled with mediocre acting, but the cars and costumes are real standouts.
As with most of Antonioni's films, the movement of the eyes tells the truth of the subtext, revealing the vacuity of words. Paola and Guido only make eye contact when in conflict and avert it when telling love words. The story is compelling and has a centrifugal effect on the viewer while the characters by contrast set us into a centripetal spinning away from it. Brilliant photography and very poor sound.
Thoroughly beautiful - in no small part because Lucia Bose is absolutely stunning herself. But it's a slight story. The dialogue is unremarkable, and it's very script heavy. The scenes are rarely given the space they need to breath; this is a real shame because the composition, the lighting, and the camerawork are already sensational.
There is something almost painful in the dedication with which Antonioni depicts the almost absolute aesthetic beauty of the ethical vacuum of privileged lives. As if he wanted to communicate to low classes that he had unconditional access to that world, and for that world he proved only pity and disdain. If in the human epic of the poor resides heroism, in the little tragedies of the new rich thrives the nothing.