BLU-RAY The Conformist

3 Star

Before the three-way sexual revolution of The Dreamers (2003) and Marlon Brando’s unorthodox use of butter in Last Tango In Paris (1972), there was The Conformist (1970), Bernardo Bertolucci’s political drama concerning fascism and homosexual repression in 1930s Europe. Considered as one of the director’s finest works, it has been selected by distributor Arrow Video to feature in their Arrow Academy series alongside other classics of world cinema.

"If The Conformist is indeed a classic, it has to be one of the most flawed classics ever made."

Told through flashback, Marcello Clerici (Jean-Louis Trintignant) is a spineless, closet homosexual living in Mussolini’s Fascist Italy. In order to conform with what society deems ‘normal’, he plans to marry Giulia (Stefania Sandrelli) and, as a show of political loyalty, decides to join the Fascist Secret Police. Before he is to marry, Giulia’s parents find it necessary that Marcello attends confession, where he admits a past homosexual encounter during his childhood with a young chauffeur and his consequent murder.

After getting married, Marcello is given an assignment by the secret police to track down and arrange the assassination of a man named Quadri (Enzo Tarascio), Marcello’s former teacher turned anti-fascist, political dissident. With the help of a fellow agent, Manganiello (Gastone Moschin), Marcello uses his honeymoon to Paris as a cover to infiltrate Quadri’s circle.

However, Marcello soon develops an infatuation with Anna (Dominique Sanda), Quadri’s wife. And when his fascist sympathies become apparent to the target, a man whom he once deeply respected, Marcello begins to doubt whether he can go on with the mission…

Despite its reputation, there is something about The Conformist that doesn’t quite gel. The result is a film that has ambitions of greatness but fails to bring all its elements together to form a coherent and completely satisfying story.

It has to be said, though, that the cinematography done by Vittorio Storaro is excellent throughout, creating a look that would influence Francis Ford Coppola and The Godfather films (incidentally, Storaro would go on to direct the photography of Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979)). There’s a pleasant grandeur about the camera movements but, at the same time, it feels grounded and real. It also gracefully captures the art-deco architecture and 1930s production design with a pleasing stylishness. The lighting is also key here, as Storaro and Bertolucci employ different coloured lights to further suggest Marcello’s resistance to conformity.

There is something strangely detached about the whole thing that prevents complete engagement.

In another moment of disorientating paranoia, a pursuit involving Marcello being followed by an unseen man into a car is realised entirely through Dutch angles. When Marcello discovers that the man following him is in fact Manganiello, the fascist agent assigned to help him with his upcoming mission, Storaro gently levels the angle as Marcello’s fear elates. Likewise, performances are also very good, especially from the wives of Marcello and his target Quadri, who play off one another with a welcome sensual vigour.

However, there is something strangely detached about the whole thing that prevents complete engagement. The first act is very flashback heavy. As Marcello and Manganiello drive after their target, the former recalls the various events that have built to that moment. Whilst an interesting device, it also feels directionless and perhaps not as well assembled as it could be for maximum effect. Marcello remembers his morphine addicted mother and old friend, Italo, who is both literally and figuratively blind to Marcello’s disagreeable personality; a not particularly subtle move on the part of Bertolucci’s script (adapted from the novel by Alberto Moravia), which is definitely the weak link in all this. Bertolucci also feels the need to bring strange moments of humour into the mix, but frankly, the results are a bit of a dog’s dinner.

Some of these humorous touches work quite nicely, lending a slightly surreal twist. Perhaps most successful is Manganiello’s recurring pursuits of Marcello to make sure that he is still on-mission; following at a sometimes uncomfortably close distance and occupying nearby tables in the restaurants he visits with the target. Others, however, feel inappropriate. Marcello’s visit to the secret police office veers into territory usual designated for broad comedy. He passes a man carrying the large head of a Mussolini statue in such a way that it replaces his own. One pro-fascist agent unscrupulously makes out with a woman in an office of ridiculously huge proportions containing only a desk – a possible satirical jab at squandered government resources – and another agent has a desk that is literally covered in walnuts. Why? Perhaps it is some kind of bizarrely subversive way of suggesting that the fascist mindset is precisely that – nuts.

These pratfalls aren’t full-on enough to be considered proper comedy, but, at the same time, they don’t accommodate the subtlety required for truly effective satire. Bertolucci’s script is at fault here as it is overwrought. What should be a simple narrative brings in pseudo-Freudian philosophy and notions of Plato’s Cave to muddle things even further, not to mention enough symbolism to fill several films. The script is convoluted to the point that Marcello’s continual procrastination from the task at hand has to be fulfilled by a group of tactless fascist goons, rendering the former’s involvement in the plot as almost pointless. As a result, one can’t help but get the feeling that a tighter edit could have worked wonders.

As for the high-definition presentation, Arrow Video has made a commendable effort. This is a very clean print with barely a blemish visible. Picture clarity is also good, but a slight softness presides over the duration, preventing the image from truly popping off the screen, although this is inherent of the film stock used and not a fault of the disc. Detail is still decent in the close-ups but struggles to maintain in the widest shots of the film. There is also a brief instance of strange grain fluctuation, as noted during a scene that takes place at a dance club. This is not too overbearing and is the only real gripe to be had in what is actually a respectable transfer for a film that’s over forty years old. On the other hand, audiophiles will likely lament at the limited, although still decent mono sound mix and the lack of surround options. But overall, fans of the film should be pleased with the technical presentation.

The Conformist, whilst interesting, is a mess at times. It seems to uncomfortably straddle across the vast divide between farce and sincerity; feeling too tongue-in-cheek and obvious to be taken seriously and too serious to be considered as light-hearted entertainment. The fine camerawork and decent performances are ultimately let down by an unfocused script. If The Conformist is indeed a classic, it has to be one of the most flawed classics ever made.