Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini
There were moans in the theatre during the torture scenes; there were gasps during the raised-fist scene; there was a stunned silence at the end. All the sounds seemed entirely appropriate: how else to respond to Pasolini’s dramatisation of the Nazi-Fascist regime that ruled in Salo in 1944-45? Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom reminded me of Lord Acton’s dictum that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. And if you didn’t flinch at the last scenes, I worry for your sanity.
The film’s attitude to sex, where it functions basically as an instrument of degradation, stands in sharp contrast to most other Pasolini works. As I’ve noted elsewhere, Pasolini’s films often erupt with sexual joy; by contrast, this film plays out in grimly joyless manner. (In Sight and Sound’s 2002 poll of Top Ten movies, Catherine Breillat voted for Salò. Given the anti-eroticism of the sex in her films, this is hardly surprising.) For that matter, it even stands in contrast to the original Sade text - it seemed that the four leaders in the film were more focused on power dynamics than using power as a means to sexual pleasure. (This isn’t an original argument with regards to Salò, but it bears repeating.) All this despite the fact that the text and acts from Sade weren’t altered: testament, indeed, to the power a director has in affecting the meaning of words. I thought the fact that the last torture depicted was the branding of nipples was a sign of the importance of the concept of ownership and domination in this interpretation of the text.
How can one convey the full horror of fascism? (In the 18 months of Mussolini’s reign in Salò, 72,000 people were killed.) I don’t know the answer, but Pasolini certainly brought us closer to a sense of the atrocities perpetuated at the tail end of the Second World War. Yet throughout the film we are powerless to do anything and we continue watching - has Pasolini made us all guilty of being mere spectators to atrocities? If the need arises, who among us will raise a fist?
Notes: Speaking of Sight and Sound, check out their comprehensive feature on Salò… I’m trying to think of films I’ve seen with shit-eating, and John Waters’ Pink Flamingos is the only one I can think of - two films with very different sensibilities!… I’m stunned that anyone would come to Salò as part of a couple - it’s the most anti-date movie I can think of.