Antonioni’s L’Avventura, a somewhat polemic masterpiece of ‘60s European arthouse cinema, is a wonderfully odd and prescient film. In it, Antonioni depicts (and dissects) romance, sexuality, and relationships with the detached precision and biological curiosity of a nature documentarian. As the film’s characters compulsively flirt, fight, and vie for one another’s attention, these inescapably human follies render them distressingly alien. The depths mined here are often quite ugly, but they’re thankfully softened by a peculiar sensibility and a dry, absurdist sense of humor.
As the film opens our main character appears to be Anna, a wealthy young Italian trapped in an enigmatic and unfulfilling long-distance relationship with charming, successful Sandro. However, things take a turn for the bizarre when Sandro and Anna go yachting with several jet-setting friends among a cluster of rocky, mountainous islands. When Anna goes missing on one of the volcanic landforms, Sandro and her best friend Claudia seem to be the only ones in their party truly affected by her disappearance. Yet even their grief is compromised as they begin to develop feelings for one another while searching for Anna.
Antonioni uses this tragic occurrence as a springboard to explore the power dynamic inherent in all relationships, infusing that wordless struggle into all aspects of the film. The sumptuous black-and-white cinematography (nearly every shot reveals a magnificent composition) perfectly captures the isolation of the characters, their inability to connect with one another. We see them either in extreme close-up, their furrowed brows and brooding glances singularly filling the screen, or in long shots in which one character is in the immediate foreground and another is seemingly miles off in the distance.
For Antonioni, relationships are a cruel game to which we we’re all born innately aware of the rules, an endless cycle of coming towards and pulling away from the ones we desire. Both Claudia and Anna pull stunts to gain Sandro’s attention – when they act dramatically, such as threatening to leave him, he is almost desperate to win them over. But once he has them again, the chase is over, and he quickly loses interest and recoils. This jostling for power within the relationship is reflected in the film’s blocking, as we continually see the characters turning their backs on one another, only to suddenly turn around at the last second to check if their contrived trick has achieved its desired effect.
Rather than the idealized treatment given in most movies, love in L’Avventura is an odd mating ritual conducted by cagey animals stalking craggy, desolate islands. Every relationship is toxic, fully of unrequited desire, petty bickering, jealousy, and painfully obvious deception. As Antonioni depicts these inexplicable behaviors in a multitude of settings and contexts, it becomes almost farcical. There is a constant humor at play here – Antonioni has a ball with a scene in which a glamorous starlet’s appearance in a small Italian village nearly incites a riot among the ludicrously frenzied men. Then again, a scene in which Claudia wanders a village and must evade a seemingly never-ending series of men ogling her from the shadows plays as nightmarish and unsettling. Surely, few films have so effectively captured the power of quick glances and forlorn stares. In L’Avventura, both male and female gaze are tactical maneuvers in an unspoken competition.
Both original theatrical reviews and modern analysis of the film repeatedly describe it as difficult and puzzling, as if it were a sort of unpleasant, but enriching cultural vegetable. It’s bewildering to see critics treat L’Avventura as if it’s a dull or frustrating experience. Particularly among contemporary critics, this line of thinking is obtuse at best. Sure – surprise, surprise – this European arthouse film has some narrative ambiguity and requires a bit of patience. In other news, The Empire Strikes Back has some plot holes and requires a rather significant suspension of belief. More to the point, despite its challenging nature, L’Avventura is wildly invigorating – funny and witty and sad and beautiful.
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