The Devils may be set during the witch trials of 17th century France, and yet Ken Russell’s cynical condemnation of religious tyranny escapes a narrow relegation to the distant past, infusing his cautionary tale with a bitter, anachronistic timelessness.
With Max Ophüls’ dextrous camera manoeuvring the ups and downs of Louise’s affair in The Earrings of Madame de…, it isn’t hard to fall prey to her idealistic belief in romantic destiny, imbuing her precious jewels that miraculously keep finding their way home with a mystical, auspicious significance.
The year that passes over the course of Amarcord is not bound by straightforward plot convention, and yet each vignette takes its place in the whimsical portrait of 1930s Italy that Federico Fellini sentimentally models after his hometown, slipping into dreams of oppressive evils and boundless joys with careless, nostalgic abandon.
One upper-class housewife’s discovery of her husband’s affair in Juliet of the Spirits may incite a surreal reckoning with religion, sexuality, and womanhood, though the insecurities that these kaleidoscopic dreams surface have evidently haunted her since childhood, as Federico Fellini holds up a feminine mirror to 8 ½ that seeks to understand the other side of his ailing marriage.
Only by blackmailing, intimidating, and investigating from the shadows can one vengeful son expose the corporate corruption of mid-century Japan in The Bad Sleep Well, as Akira Kurosawa adapts Hamlet with a severe, noirish cynicism, examining the foundations of bloodshed which the upper-class bureaucracy shrouds in obscure conspiracies.
Through Federico Fellini’s cynical subversion of theological iconography and episodic parables, La Dolce Vita traces a tortured soul’s weary descent to the depths of an amoral, existentialist hell, examining modern-day Rome’s spiritual corruption to ultimately become one of cinema’s great religious epics.
Although the hitchhiker in Knife in the Water is spontaneously invited along as a plaything on a wealthy couple’s yacht, the insecurity he sparks transcends class boundaries, as Roman Polanski acutely stages a series of power plays that slowly strips away pretensions of dignity and moral character.
At the core of Repulsion’s surreal, psychological horror, Roman Polanski centres a woman with an inexplicable revulsion towards men, eerily surrounding her repressed trauma with psychosexual symbols while she desperately tries to contain the resulting damage to her mind, home, and whoever dares to cross the threshold into either.
As married couple Anna and Mark stand on the precipice of divorce in Possession, a simmering mixture of revulsion, self-loathing, and cruelty boils over into public displays of insanity, exposing the depraved souls at the heart of Andrzej Żuławski’s terrifying allegory for divorce.
The industrial Italian town that the psychologically troubled Giuliana wanders in Red Desert is an alien landscape of steel beams and suffocating smog, and yet Michelangelo Antonioni’s punctuations of vibrant colour among desaturated greys offer a complex humanity to these daunting structures, painting out a world striving for growth through its own sickness.
