Salo, or The 120 Days of Sodom
Oh God, I beseech You, have mercy on us sinners. Everything that you've ever heard, feared, hoped, or thought about this film is true. It is utterly grotesque, completely appalling, mentally tortuous and an absolute masterpiece, a true work of art. Controversial Italian filmmaker, Pier Paolo Pasolini adapted the novel by the Marquis de Sade and sets it in fascist Italy where four dignitaries round up a group of virginal teenagers and lock them up in an elegant country villa, where for 120 days they inflict every conceivable form of degradation on their victims (and themselves). In between spats of orgies and rape, they discuss philosophy amongst themselves and conclude that it is better to be the torturer than the tortured, better master than servant, better victimizer than victim. But in order to be master, one must have victims, and those victims must live in order to be victimized. Much has been made (correctly so) of the endless perversions executed in this film including, rape, homosexuality, masturbation, drinking of urine, eating of feces, and more all in the name of sexual gratification for the fascist masters. The film has been criticized for desensitizing an audience to these atrocities, when in reality it serves to resensitize those who treat evil with a casual indifference (I might, sadly, place myself in this category). Part of the horror of the film (and brilliance) is not merely the actions performed, but in their casual execution by the masters. In other words the real horror is not the existence of evil, but the failure of anyone to acknowledge it as such. The victims are dehumanized to the point where in once scene they are all naked, and crawling around the floor on all fours with leashes around their necks, forced to bark like dogs and fight over scraps of food. It is in the exploitation of the victims where the political metaphor is made, in that the poor are exploited and victimized by the capitalist ruling classes (Pasolini was an avowed Marxist). While it's political message may be weak, I will forever be careful in how I treat others. No form of sexual fetish is left untured, but for most of the film the victims do not exist to be tortured so much as the indulge the perversions of the masters. It is not until the horrifying final scene in which all of hell's sadistic fury in unleashed on the victims. The best description of this film that I have read says that it is impossible to watch and essential that it exists. I will echo that, and take a controversial step forward by saying that in film history, this is one of the few films that I believe absolutely must exist. It reminds us of the realities and true atrocities of evil and the human capacity for evil -- how, apart from God, we a ruled by our lusts and desires. This is the one film, or work of art I should say, that even the most jaded film goer might find impossible to walk away from undisturbed. It is not exploitation, nor is it at all pornography. Its degradation is in service of an honorable statement. It is a powerfully humanist work of art. I might make a gross overgeneralization by going so far as to say that every Christian should see this film, though I will never recommend it. It is a masterpiece that I hope I need never again watch. I feel indebted to Pier Paolo Pasolini, that wretched Marxist, homosexual, atheist. Oh Lord, may I never sin again.
posted by Clint @ 5:28 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
Clint, your review chilled my blood. I am at a loss to remember an occasion where you spoke more fervently about a film. I beg you to indulge me for a moment.
You say that Salo is designed to remind viewers that apart from God, we are ruled by our lusts and desires. I am thrilled to hear this, but let us be thorough. Does the film actually make a point of this, or is this an assumption you made based on your preexisting beliefs? I ask because none of the reviews I read made any mention of God, and in order for the film to work as you say it does, it is necessary that someone outside—or even averse to—the Christian faith arrive at exactly the same conclusion. I can easily imagine the selfsame film driving a person to despair, not because of the human condition, but because of God’s absence. Art is lovely and amazing, but it is very, very dangerous.
After reading your post, I realize that Pasolini’s film may well be the equivalent of a hellfire and brimstone sermon—a kind of homily I have never experienced firsthand, nor ever wish to. But I will never, ever question its place in the church. Some people need to hear them shouted from the highest pedestals—their very souls hang in the balance. If Salo serves such a purpose, then Pasolini was not an atheist after all.
I know what y meant by your closing statement, Clint, but you must not feel indebted to Pasolini. Nor to Bresson, Dreyer, Tarkovsky, or Bergman, however difficult that may be. One must never make the mistake of confusing the author with the instrument. Instead, thank God for causing all things—even films made by Marxist homosexual atheists—to work together for good to those who love Him.
I now know why it is essential that this film exist. It exists so that I need never watch it—at least I hope I never do. But thanks for blazing the trail, Clint. Upon reading your post, it seems clear that after visiting hell, heaven seems like an awfully good place.
"You say that Salo is designed to remind viewers that apart from God, we are ruled by our lusts and desires. I am thrilled to hear this, but let us be thorough. Does the film actually make a point of this, or is this an assumption you made based on your preexisting beliefs? I ask because none of the reviews I read made any mention of God, and in order for the film to work as you say it does, it is necessary that someone outside—or even averse to—the Christian faith arrive at exactly the same conclusion. I can easily imagine the selfsame film driving a person to despair, not because of the human condition, but because of God’s absence. Art is lovely and amazing, but it is very, very dangerous."
I no doubt make my interpretations based on my pre-existing beliefs, but then we all do. No artist can make a work that will be universally understood the exact same way by everyone. As long as there are different worldviews, there will be different opinions. But just because Pasolini may not have intended my observations about the film, doesn't mean they don't exist. They do, in fact exist, because I found them. God can speak in the most miserable of cicumstance and through the most unlikely of sources. This is what I found.
"I know what y meant by your closing statement, Clint, but you must not feel indebted to Pasolini. Nor to Bresson, Dreyer, Tarkovsky, or Bergman, however difficult that may be. One must never make the mistake of confusing the author with the instrument. Instead, thank God for causing all things—even films made by Marxist homosexual atheists—to work together for good to those who love Him."
I thank God, and I thank Pasolini for reminding me to thank God.
"I now know why it is essential that this film exist. It exists so that I need never watch it—at least I hope I never do."
You may be right, there. Even if no one ever watches the film, it must exist.
If what you say about art is true, Clint, then you can never again reject my opinion of a film—you must accept it on the grounds that I interpreted it differently than you. If, then, you say Salo is a masterpiece, and I say it’s worthless, can we both be right?
In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t like this tendency toward subject-ifying art—it leaves no room for objective ideas such as goodness, badness, truth, falsity, beauty, or ugliness. If your argument to be taken seriously, no piece of art can ever be evil because even the vilest of works will invariably remind one of some spiritual truth that exists apart from the work itself.
Don’t you get irked when secularists try to claim Bresson’s work as nihilistic? Aren’t you compelled to tell them that they are wrong, that they somehow misunderstood? Conversely, are you prepared to face the charges of atheists (including Pasolini himself, if he were alive today) claiming that you misinterpreted the author’s work, that you allowed the film and your personal convictions to bleed into one another, and that you manipulated the film’s ideas so that they say exactly what you want them to?
How, for example, can you differentiate between “Apart from God, human evil is limitless,” and “Because there is no God, human evil is limitless?”
I ask these questions as a friend—not as an antagonist—and with a happy, smiling face as well as a troubled heart.
By the way, I know you are drawn toward grandiose statements like “it is necessary that this film exists,” but I can’t let you get away with that one so easily. Do you really think the cosmic order would bend in Salo’s absence? Instead, let me propose something like this: “Art’s last step is to recognize that it is not needed. It is simply feeble if it does not go as far as realizing that.”
"If what you say about art is true, Clint, then you can never again reject my opinion of a film—you must accept it on the grounds that I interpreted it differently than you. If, then, you say Salo is a masterpiece, and I say it’s worthless, can we both be right?"
Art will always be subjective to a point. It is unavoidable. In fact, we can both be right. There is truth in the adage that one persons trash in another persons treasure. However, in this case, your opinion is meaningless because you have not seen the film, and any judgements you make about it are your own interpretations of someone elses interpretations that has seen the film.
"In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t like this tendency toward subject-ifying art—it leaves no room for objective ideas such as goodness, badness, truth, falsity, beauty, or ugliness."
Agreed.
"If your argument to be taken seriously, no piece of art can ever be evil because even the vilest of works will invariably remind one of some spiritual truth that exists apart from the work itself."
You know, I might so bold as to agree with that, assuming we are dealing with actual works of art. I contrast art with exploitation. A film such as "The Last House on the Left", while in many ways less perverse than "Salo", also lacks the artistic merits of Pasolini's film. Its goal is presumably the same: to remind the audience of the horrors of violence, but its excesses and indulgences become exploitive. By the end, however, due to the genre and technique, the film has built a blood lust within the audience that demands to be satisfied. The violence is no longer a horror, but an outlet for erotic satisfaction within the audience. This is exploitation, "Salo" is art. Not only is it a more well crafted film (Pasolini was a great director, Ennio Morricone arranged the music, Tonino Delli Colli provided the cinematography), but it doesn't resort to exploiting its subject matter for the thrills of the audience. The characters mercilessly exploit their victims for their erotic thrills, and the audience is asked to watch in horror. Ugliness is just as true as beauty -- as long as it is, indeed, true. "Salo" is objectively true in its ugliness.
"Don’t you get irked when secularists try to claim Bresson’s work as nihilistic? Aren’t you compelled to tell them that they are wrong, that they somehow misunderstood? Conversely, are you prepared to face the charges of atheists (including Pasolini himself, if he were alive today) claiming that you misinterpreted the author’s work, that you allowed the film and your personal convictions to bleed into one another, and that you manipulated the film’s ideas so that they say exactly what you want them to?"
If Christianity is true, then God is constantly speaking to us, and revealing himself in various ways. And if this is, in fact, true, then to see God in a work that may not have been intended to glorify God, is not wrong or even a manipulation of the films ideas, but merely an acknowledgement of His revelation. Pasolini may not have intended it, and may well object to my observations, but I am still right because no artist can shut God out of creation. Now conversely, in the case of Bresson, if all I'm saying about Christianity is true, then to deny the presence of God in a work (particularly that of an avowed Christian), is wrong and a misinterpretation because it is based on false assumptions about the world. If Christianity is false, then there is only one way to interpret "Salo", or even Bresson, but at that point, it wouldn't matter anyway.
"How, for example, can you differentiate between “Apart from God, human evil is limitless,” and “Because there is no God, human evil is limitless?”"
Good question. I can only make my interpretations in the confidence that I have the truth of God on my side.
"By the way, I know you are drawn toward grandiose statements like “it is necessary that this film exists,” but I can’t let you get away with that one so easily. Do you really think the cosmic order would bend in Salo’s absence? Instead, let me propose something like this: “Art’s last step is to recognize that it is not needed. It is simply feeble if it does not go as far as realizing that.”"
Perhaps. But if art does serve a purpose, and if it is honorable to reveal the realities of evil, then I know of no greater example in film than "Salo." If art exists, and if truth is revealed in art, then I believe a film like "Salo" must exist, even if as you say, it exists so that you need not see it.
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