L’ Avventura *****

When I first saw L’ Avventura, about ten years ago, I was simply blown away. The cinematography, in black and white, is (for me) mesmerizing and astounding. I can’t think of another movie in which most of the frames could be printed as individual compelling photographs on their own. Of course, there is the movie as well, which inspires thinking on various levels. I imagine that every scene was painstakingly and purposefully devised, rendering a thorough record of Michelangelo Antonioni’s state of mind at the time he created this film. This is film art at its finest. Yet, I imagine, not everyone will like it. Antonioni takes his time and does not follow formula and neatly tie up loose ends, which many would find frustrating. Nevertheless, he has fashioned a compelling drama that provides a glimpse into the empty lives of the aimless wealthy. As often happens in life, like minds seems to be drawn together and he has captured their essence (or the lack of it) perfectly.

The movie, like real life and unlike most tightly planned movies, does not have any particular structure and is completely unpredictable. Totally non-formulaic, it appears to simply follow the protagonists, where ever they might decide to go. There is no violence or profanity to keep the viewer entertained. Instead, the camera seems to be used to maintain one’s attention. Antonioni uses a wide angle lens that keeps every scene razor sharp. The foreground and background are simultaneously in focus, requiring our rapt attention to the details on all areas of the screen. The camera often refers to the unpredictability and potential danger of nature. The water appears dangerous, the sky threatening, and the landscape harsh. Also, he uses unseen devices to convey an ominous aura. There is a shark, but we don’t see it. We hear a boat, but don’t see it. We discover there is a man living on the island; does he have anything to do with the unfolding events?

In short, the movie is about a group of wealthy friends on a boat trip in the Mediterranean. The friendships appear strained and shallow. Communication seems awkward and everyone seems narcissistically preoccupied. The trip, on a magnificent motor yacht in a spectacular setting, is boring and the protagonist, Ann is feeling unhappy with her relationship with Sandro and, I think, with life in general. While swimming, she screams “shark,” apparently to add some excitement to the trip. Shortly, the boat stops at a barren island where the people look remarkably out of place, uncomfortably surrounded by jagged rocks; isolated from anything familiar, including themselves. When it’s time to depart, Anna cannot be found. A search team is called in, to no avail. Sandro and Anna’s girlfriend, Claudia, begin searching nearby villages, while the others quickly move on and forget about Anna, including her father. Anna, proves to be easy to forget. All of these people are easy to forget. They have little to offer each other. Less than a day goes by before Sandro makes advances toward Claudia, who is at first shocked but slowly concedes her mutual interest.

Everyone will have a favorite or memorable scene in a movie. I have several. My favorite is when Claudia and Sandro arrive at a seemingly deserted church. Antonioni positions Sandro in the foreground and Claudia in the background (see photo above). The image superbly conveys the tension and distance between these two people. There is nothing else in the image and they are looking in different directions. Indeed, everyone is looking elsewhere, somewhere, for something. Claudia has, metaphorically, turned to the church for guidance, but the church, empty, offers no clues, no help, no solace. Sandro, looks elsewhere and appears impatient and distracted.

In another memorable scene, Sandro, an architect who has given up his profession in favor of making money as an estimator, deliberately spills ink on an incomplete but lovingly drawn rendering of a classical building, ruining it. When confronted by the young artist, who is evidently an architect or student, Sandro tries to provoke a fight and intimidates the younger man into submission. I imagine he expressing anger with himself for having sold his soul.

The title, L'Avventura, translates to “the adventure.” At the conclusion of the movie I wondered what Antonioni had in mind when he chose the title. Was the boat trip meant to be an adventure? The search for Anna? Maybe the relationship between Claudia and Sandro? Or perhaps it was simply the act of making the movie? I don’t know, but I have settled on this theory: The movie is a search for humanity. A search for someone with a soul. Nobody seems to have one. Anna father is obviously lacking here. None of the friends on the boat trip show any evidence of it. Really, not one person in the movie shows any evidence of anything more than shallowness and self-indulgence and the consquent isolation. There is no sign of love anywhere, romantic or otherwise. Ultimately, we find Claudia’s humanity in the form of her compassion for Sandro, who appears to deserve none. I think that she has been restlessly searching not for her friend but for her own soul.