Missy Lorelei reviews the re-release of the 60s classic.
Pier Paolo Pasolini's classic 1968 satire has a stunning new digital makeover and looks all the more ravishing for it.
When a taciturn nameless visitor, played by a rakishly handsome Terence Stamp, ingratiates himself within a bourgeois Milan family by seducing or charming every single member one by one, he leaves a trail of chaos in his wake. His arrival as a muse in the large house is like rock 'n' roll wafting through a stuffy chamber quartet.
The ideals of the bored rich are symbolised by long lingering Impressionistic shots of greenery, in contrast to the beige industrial wastelands and the isolation of deserts; elsewhere, severe Catholic iconic imagery of candles and crosses are juxtaposed with the sultry, late-summer exteriors throughout.
The camera itself becomes a voyeur, intimately tailing the respective fates of each family member as they go into meltdown. One has an epiphany, another a breakdown. All are deluded, depressed, or simply in denial.
A wonderful supporting cast, including Silvana Mangano as Lucia, the matriarch suffering sexual ennui, and Massimo Girotti as the ailing father Paolo, are complimented by Ennio Morricone's languid soundtrack.
Sexual and religious psychomania never looked so beautiful—as strange, disturbing and enigmatic as the very finest of European cinema...let's just hope it isn't given a vacuous Hollywood makeover.