User Reviews

"L'avventura" is Michelangelo Antonioni's mind-blowing film about nothing. No, I don't mean "nothing happens." On the contrary it has a suspenseful story which, in the hands of someone like David Fincher, would be a steamy heart-pounding thriller. A girl goes mysteriously missing on a remote Italian island while her fiancé and her best friend have a mystery of their own. A ton happens. But the movie is about "nothing" - the palpable spectre of oblivion, the unknown, and hollow faith that haunts us all.

Antonioni made the statement at Cannes: "Today the world is endangered by an extremely serious split between a science that is totally and consciously projected into the future, and a rigid and stereotyped morality which all of us recognize as such and yet sustain out of cowardice or sheer laziness (...) Moral man, who has no fear of the scientific unknown, is today afraid of the moral unknown."

In other words, he is saying we have accepted the scientific unknown (an infinitely unknown universe) and embraced it exploration into the future, but in terms of morality we cling to traditional, archaic stereotypes of the past. There are definitely religious overtones in images of empty churches, but specifically the film focuses on the institution of marriage and the concept of everlasting love which, when not attained, leads people to misery; yet we cling to it "out of cowardice or sheer laziness."

"L'avventura" focuses on the inherent "nothing" of love. It opens on a woman bidding farewell to her father in a very cold, emotionless way as he himself conducts a soulless business deal--selling their sprawling property to be razed and turned into cheap apartments. She then goes to meet her lover whom she hasn't seen in a month, but at the last minute she decides she'd rather go have coffee by herself because she prefers the feeling of being without him. The story unfolds as they and a group of other wealthy Italian couples take a boat to an isolated island, and on the way over we quickly learn that each couple is a loveless marriage with each person barely tolerating if not despising their spouse. And yet they remain together out of cowardice or sheer laziness.

Then the film does something absolutely brilliant to illustrate this concept of "nothing". About 30 minutes into the story, the entire plot disappears. Literally we are left without a plot, without a protagonist, and with nothing but a bunch of characters stumbling around trying to figure out what to do next. If you're not prepared for this shift you may end up frustrated or hating the movie because suddenly there's no point. But "no point" *is* the point.

As the characters lead a lukewarm effort to search for their missing companion (symbolically, the plot) they become increasingly apathetic toward the whole tragedy, and instead they resume their miserable lives, their loveless pairings, and their general lazy adherence to the way things always were. And in this way Antonioni illustrates what he said at Cannes. When faced with the moral unknown, rather than seizing and exploring it as we would with science, we fall back on familiar, tired patterns.

The film then breaks off to follow 2 characters in their half-hearted search. They travel through wonderfully surreal settings: towns that are completely deserted, or the opposite: a chaotic spectacle of hundreds of lusty men chasing after a pretty girl who has ripped her skirt. All of these scenes are majestically and gorgeously shot, and even if you don't immediately grasp the symbolism, you can't help but be stunned at how gripping the images are.

Initially booed by the audience at its premiere, "L'avventura" is definitely a challenging film. It gives us a plot but then rips the plot out from under us, replacing it with another, and then even that plot gradually sinks into a "love story". But if you're paying attention, you can guess that even the love story is ephemeral and fleeting. When the final, breathtaking scene ends, come back here and re-read the Antonioni quote (or better yet, search for the whole text and read it all) and you'll get it. "L'avventura" is about nothing.

By the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Italian economy had already started stabilising and moving away from the devastating consequences of WWII. The stabilisation and subsequent economic growth took place through rapid and widespread industrialisation. One can also clearly notice a shift in the sensibilities in the Italian films which were made during these years by acclaimed filmmakers like Antonioni, Fellini, Ermanno Olmi, etc. Their films shifted away from the concerns of neorealist films of the 1940s and early 50s. In this context, it is very interesting to note the dissimilarities between a typical Italian neorealist film and a post-neorealist film like 'L'Avventura'. While Neorealism dealt with the economic fallout of WWII, 'L'Avventura' deals with a sense of disillusionment in the midst of rapid industrialisation(the very first line of dialogue revolves around how the natural woods are being being replaced by houses). While Neorealism focused on the poor working class Italians, 'L'Avventura' focuses on the privileged upper class or the bourgeois section of the Italian society.

From a technical standpoint, it has to be said that 'L'Avventura' is exquisitely shot. The camera movements and numerous tracking shots are executed with a distinct sophistication and methodical precision. There are a lot of complex frame compositions that take place in the interior scenes which scream perfectionism on the part of Antonioni. The overall tone for the film is one of extreme austerity. This austerity and lack of humanity to the film is clearly meant to represent the supposed lack of humanity in the midst of mindless industrialisation and consumerism. I think one thing that the viewer has to assume in order to buy into the film's plot and story elements is that the film takes place in Antonioni's own world which is a little different to the real world. This is because accepting the reaction of some of the characters to certain occurrences in the film will involve a certain amount of the suspension of disbelief.

The problem I had with 'L'Avventura' is that after a while, the relentless austerity started to get a little unbearable and tough to be receptive to. It's interesting because I know the austerity is absolutely deliberate and it's intended to epitomise the ennui that the characters get afflicted by along with Antonioni's own idea of the blandness and aimlessness of life in contemporary industrialised Italy of the early 60s. The first hour of the film is absolutely spectacular and rich with abstract existentialist intrigue. But once the group leaves the island and we re-enter civilisation, the film gets progressively less intriguing for me. I generally don't get negatively affected by the austerity of Kubrick or Bergman. But the second half of this film really started to progressively weigh me down.

I don't think any acting performance in the film is particularly special. But of course Monica Vitti offers vulnerability and a sensitive touch to her character and she is the only one that the viewer can find any reason to sympathise with. But to be honest, it is clear that Antonioni is in no mood to make any character singularly likable.

Overall 'L'Avventura' is a film that clearly shows a master at work who clearly has a visual flair and a philosophical voice. But the austerity and lack of humanity in the film makes it tough to rewatch and revisit too often.

Because I had not interest in whether the characters in this film lived or died, I had to step back and take a look at how such a disdain-deserving presentation was made. When I realized my emotional connection to this, I realized that the actors did a marvelous job of putting forth a portrayal of despair. These people deserve each other. The spoiled brat Anna who puts everyone through their paces because she is so important and so desirable. The others, living off their entitlements. They come and they go in all their alienated glory. They seem to care for each other once in a while, but that is short lived and it always gets back to their constipated lives. The architect who through laziness, self doubt, and an overactive libido is unable to fire anything but blanks is at the center of the movie. He does very well as does his love interest. It's tedious and troublesome, but the cinematography is terrific and sustains the ennui of their troubled lives.

There's something strange going on in this film.

The first time I watched it, it seemed to wash over me without affecting me in anyway. Later on(and I've read this in other people's comments here as well) I found images and dialogue from the movie creeping into my subconscious; entire dreams would take place upon the island where Anna goes missing(often in monochrome), or I'd start to compare real life events to those that occur during the film. Did Antonioni plant subliminal messages within the movie? Probably not. It's more likely the masterful pace he employs here, coupled with the busy, deep cinematography is the cause of this. Notice how the backgrounds NEVER go out of focus, no matter how much is going on within the frame. Check out the scene about an hour and ten minutes in, where Sandro and the old man are talking in the middle of an extremely busy street; nothing blurs or goes out of focus, even when a tram comes in and out of the shot, nothing loses it's perspective, and as the scene ends and they walk deep into the shot we can see way past them and far, far into the distance.

This seems to be why the film has such a deep affect on the subconscious. The characters are deliberately shallow and are placed at the very foreground of every shot, yet the backgrounds are rich tableaux bustling with life. In the scenes on the island where Anna disappears, we see the main characters always in shot, yet in the background there is a feeling that something strange within nature itself is going on. The darkening of the clouds, the sudden mist upon the water, the rocks falling to the sea, even the sudden appearance of the old hermit character, all give a certain unease.

There's also the haunting feeling of the film, as Anna's friends begin, almost immediately to forget about her. Soon, they don't seem to care a jot about her, and neither, in a sense, do we. It's this feeling of loose ends and guilt on our part(for joining her so called 'friends' in forgetting about her so quickly) that leaves the deepest impression. The characters in this film are so morally shallow(the ending bears this out) yet they are the reason this film leaves such a strong impression on those who watch it, and who become captivated by it.

I cant recommend this film to everyone because I know that the Hollywood Blockbuster has reduced most modern cinema-goers attention spans to almost zero. But if you fancy a challenge, or merely wish to luxuriate in classic cinema.....begin here.

Having recently seen L'Avventura and Scenes from a Marriage back to back they seem as different as it is possible to be. Yet they do share a common ground, namely humanity's quest for love and understanding and the seemingly insurmountable obstacles that lie in the way. But whereas Bergman's film has moments of true warmth and happiness, Antonioni's L'Avventura is as brutally cold as a Scandinavian winter.

Plot summary is not entirely important (and would spoil potential surprises), suffice to say that the movie is uniquely structured and may not proceed the way you expect it to. There is a mystery, and romance; but not in any traditional sense. The men and women of this film stumble through a loveless, desolate Italy, occasionally pausing for forced, wretched couplings. Alienation and the inability for humans to connect to one another have never been so painfully presented in film.

While discussing the guilt felt in betraying a mutual friend a woman asks "How can it be that it takes so little to change, to forget?" to which the man responds, "It takes even less." Before one of the films many desperate scenes of impersonal copulation the woman cries out in a fit of existential despair, "I feel as though I don't know you!" to which the man responds, "Aren't you happy? You get to have a new fling." The film is so brutally cynical about friendship, love and human interaction that it feels unreal. Strange alien landscapes, magnificently filmed among the rocky islands around Italy serve to underline the insurmountably barren distances between the characters. And as they grope and fumble for some kind of connection in the darkness that surrounds them, the viewer is pulled into their mire as well.

When they are not desperately searching for some kind of connection with each other, the characters struggle to come to terms with their own absurd existence. A man knocks over a bottle of ink, destroying an art student's in-progress drawing. A woman makes faces in a mirror at herself. Another woman pretends to see a shark in the ocean she is swimming in. None of these distractions are remotely successful.

By the time the film has reached its unbelievably cynical ending (dependant on one of the most effective uses of a musical score in film history), it becomes clear. These people have lost their way.

This overwhelming bleakness seems like it would create an unbearable viewing experience, but there is a truth to it all as well. Companionship is a basic human need, and it can often seem impossibly difficult to form any real connection. However, what is important is that it only seems that way, it is not impossible. Antonioni has shown us only one possible outcome. By watching a movie filled with people slouching towards oblivion, unable to form even the most basic human bond, the mind rebels. There must be another way

L'Avventura (1960)****

Young woman (Lea Massari) suddenly disappears during a boating trip on an inhabited island. Shortly afterward, her boyfriend (Gabriele Ferzetti) and her best friend (Monica Vitti) became attracted to each other.

However, don't expect the mystery. This is a study of emotional isolation, moral decay, lack of the communication and emptiness of rich people in contemporary (then) society. You can easily be bored by the slow pace and the lack of dramatics of this movie unless you capture its true purpose. This is "state of mind" or experience film rather than conventional plot film. Antonioni practically discovered the new movie language in L'Avventura. By using formal instruments he is expressing emotions of the characters (loneliness, boredom, emptiness and emotional detachment) and the viewer is forced rather to feel this same emotions himself than to be involved in the story and its events. These formal instruments are: slow rhythm, real-time events, long takes, visual metaphors like inhabited island(s), fog, extreme long shots (small characters in panorama) and putting protagonists on inhabited streets or large buildings and landscapes.

Great cinematography. Forms trilogy with La Notte (1961) and L'Eclisse (1962).

At some point in the film Monica Vitti turns to her love partner and passionately proclaims "I want to see clearly!". They're standing atop a convent, and saying this, accidentally she tugs on a rope. Bells go off around them. A moment later, from a church in the distance bells ring back an answer.

Wow.

And so finally I arrive at the end of my Antonioni quest going backwards in time from The Passenger, back at the start. This will not be the last of his films that I see, but I feel I've reached a point that enables closure. I'm where it all began, in the craving mind, where all the formations of life and cinema are born. I will rest from my travel here, with the magnitude of this film.

But L'Avventura is famously a mystery of disappearance, so why do I speak in the title of this review of 'appearances'?

Perhaps because, in the aftermath of that disappearance, Antonioni sketches for us the first appearance of desire. Romance in his later films was already stale or not allowed to blossom (it appears again in Zabriskie Point, under a different context), but here feelings are pursued, in an effort to reflect if love can be our saving grace.

That appearance, born in a barren rock in the middle of the sea, rests on a twofold interpretation.

On one level, perhaps in understanding by Anna's inexplicable disappearance the precarious balance in which hangs our fleeting existence, the randomly cruel laws that govern it, the two partners turn to each other for solace. And perhaps more, seeing deep down in their own selves how quick life can be forgotten, how everything we hold to matter ultimately matters little and how this speck of life we value is merely transient and will come to pass, they turn to each other to desperately defy it, to prove to each other and the world that love cannot simply vanish.

Antonioni frames first this realization of transience against the elements of nature, the imperishable, secondly he frames, traps, blocks within the desperate relationship, mostly faces in silhouette, against old medieval buildings, man's folly to mimic the imperishable. This is Antonioni's spatial stroke of genius, the visual vocabulary which he consistently executed for the rest of his career.

But whereas in the subsequent films I was fascinated with the abstraction of human struggle, here I'm also fascinated with the struggle itself of human beings fumbling in the dark. The woman cautious of love at first, then allowing herself to be swept in it, believing if something can make her "see clearly" that it should be love. The man pushing obsessively for that love then, having consummated the need, conquered his prey, losing interest, aimlessly wandering the streets. The sated beast now becomes casually destructive, as we're shown in the scene where for no reason he spills ink over a young man's drawing.

Antonioni fills this with portents and divinations, like the woman's premonition that Anna has returned.

More subtle sketch of the madness of desire is the surreal scene where a mob in the grip of sexual paroxysm gathers in the street to ogle at a beautiful woman. Monica Vitti's character later experiences the same oppressiveness of the "male gaze", yet doesn't feel threatened by it, until her man emerges from a building, at which point she runs and hides.

The finale in this sense is a poignant enigma like few in cinema, the smile of a Mona Lisa. The two lovers, now bitterly broken by how their desire has failed them, stand in a plaza with the view of a mountain in the horizon. The woman lays a hand on the man's head, but is the gesture forgiveness or reproach and is she telling him to stay or absolving him to go?

Rushing back through his career, a chronicle emerges. Here the appearance of desire in the hope that it will liberate, later the failure of that desire to liberate, the willingness to not pursue it at all in L'Eclisse. Later yet, the liberation from desire, the realization in Deserto Rosso that we need to make ourselves whole from within, the chimera of the mind in Blowup and the liberation from it, the chimera of ideas in Zabriskie Point and the liberation from it, until the eventual, stunning to behold emergence of nirvana in The Passenger. A state of awareness where all bonds to clinging and desire are severed, the illusions of ego and identity dissolved, the characters now embracing their transience.

This is why Antonioni matters to me. Not because Kubricks, Polanskis, and Peter Weirs all took from him, planting seeds in the fertile ground of his cinema, and not because he did more for cinema as we know it than all of them together, but because his enduring legacy, mastery of medium, conceptual exploration of ideas, all of this cannot fully account for the experience of the spiritual journey they enable. Which is to say that something elusive exists embedded in the frame, a true perception, that makes his films mysteriously extend into the soul.

Antonioni saw further perhaps than any other director, before or after.

I first saw this film about three years ago. It had come up in my reading, and it sounded interesting. So I rented it. I found it good, if a little boring. However, later I discovered that it was one of those films that may not be entirely entertaining when it is watched initially, but that comes back full force in the memory at a later time. This is true both for this film, and the only other Antonioni film I have seen, Blowup. Still, tonight was the first time in three years that I have actually sat down to watch L'Avventura (and I actually plan to re-rent Blowup in the next couple of days and any other Antonioni films I might be able to find).

As I have said, L'Avventura has been built up by my mind ever since I saw it. Was it as good as I made myself think for the past three years? Yes. I have confirmed my suspicion: L'Aventurra is one of the best films ever made.

In subject, this film is a lot like La Dolce Vita. Its main theme is the decadent lifestyle of the wealthy. The decadent wealthy in L'Avventura are a lot worse off, though, than those in La Dolce Vita. At least those who were living Fellini's version of the sweet life were having fun. Sure, it was soulless fun, but, while watching the film, this thought, no matter how much I wanted to suppress it, was pounding in my mind: "Jeeze, I wish I could party with these people." Their lifestyle seems just plain fun. They may have to pay for their hedonism in some way, but at least they're having fun in the meantime! L'Avventura's sweet life is the definition of "l'ennui." Life to them is an unfortunate event.

The script to this film, as well as anything else about it, is absolutely ingenious. To simplify things, let us say that the first plot point in the film is Anna's disappearance. This is the initial problem that the characters have to deal with. In a film made under the classical guidelines, this would have been the goal that would have to be solved by the end of the film. But as L'Avventura advances, the script allows us, or maybe even makes us, forget about Anna. This process is very gradual (and she never completely disappears from our minds, especially since Claudia mentions her so explicitly near the end), but it begins very quickly after she disappears, with the infamous kiss between Sandro and Claudia. There are miles of interpretation and discussion left to go, but it is unneccessary to continue here. This is just a beginning.

The title to this film is, of course, ironic. There is no literal adventure. One could make the argument that the adventure is one of the mind, but I do not believe this. The adventure, I believe, is an adventure in reinventing the cinema.

It's been remarked that this is a very visual film, and that unquestionably rings true to me. Michelangelo Antonioni's orchestration of shots and scenes as director, and Aldo Scavarda's cinematography, are terrifically sharp and vivid if not outright arresting, an utter pleasure to behold as a viewer and without a doubt the most consistent aspects of the feature. Eraldo Da Roma's smooth editing comes in a close second behind this pair. The filming locations range from fetching to gorgeous, and in short order other facets like production design, art direction, hair and makeup, and costume design aren't far behind. I don't even rightly know how to describe it, but in its visual presentation 'L'avventura' is uniquely precise, natural, calculated, fluid, and vibrant, all at once, and all the time, in a way that's especially striking. Even at that, I'm not sure that the movie seems so distinct in this regard as to be hailed as a model for all those titles to follow it, yet there can be no doubt that Antonioni and Scavarda in particular prove themselves to be fine craftsmen.

It's important to note the visual presentation right away not only because it's so excellent in the first place, but also because outside of that which our eyes take in, the picture seems less than flawless. It's not that the acting is bad, because it's not; I think the cast turn in solid performances, with Monica Vitti and Gabriele Ferzetti being most noteworthy given that more time on-screen means more time to shine. It's not that the music is bad, because it's not; I quite like Giovanni Fusco's score. These elements just don't readily leap out in the same way that the visuals do. And it's not that the screenplay is bad, because it's not; the story is theoretically compelling, and the scene writing, even if I don't think every last detail is wholly suitable for the narrative (e.g. The scene in the sewing shop) or fully convincing (the progression of the dynamics between Claudia and Sandro). It's certainly true that the plot is ultimately rather light, though, accentuated by the fact that wide swaths of the dialogue could be dispensed with and nothing would be lost. In fact, part of me feels like 'L'avventura' could be rewritten with new dialogue, pointedly changing the tale so long as it still comports to the imagery before us, and we'd still effectively have the same movie.

Say of the writing what one will, however; there's one fault that decidedly stands out more. The pacing is not great. The first hour meanders so blithely, conveying so little in that time, that it becomes downright soporific; one hour took me two to watch because I really did keep falling asleep. The remaining length is more eventful, yet also weirdly deficient in its communication of the plot - just as the state of the primary characters' relationship to one another feels a little arbitrary, the broad strokes of their geographical journey are much clearer than the purpose of the stops they make along the way. With that in mind, even though more is happening on-screen after the first hour, still the pacing seems just as unbothered, as though the proceedings are just kind of shuffling around instead of meaningfully going anywhere. And for all this: oh yes, the visuals remain just as enticing, a real treat for movie lovers. Whether the camera is showing us landscapes, cityscapes, interiors, or shots of characters near or far, the result is always exquisite. Yet no matter how perfect a film may look, do the visions to greet us really matter if the storytelling is emphatically Lesser Than?

This is the second feature from Antonioni that I've watched, and the second for which my regard diverges significantly from popular opinion. The disparity isn't quite so great as with 1966's 'Blowup,' and I don't specifically dislike 'L'avventura,' but my thoughts on it are quite divided. The fundamental sights before us are totally splendid. The course of events they are intended to relate, from scattered small moments to major character relationships to the overall narrative, are substantially weaker. What we have then, in my estimation, is questionable material rendered with exemplary execution; the latter elevates the former, but is that enough? I'm glad for those that get more out of this movie; I'd like to say the same for myself. Unlike 'Blowup,' I can at least say that I understand how other viewers could derive more earnest meaning from this, its elder. Still, whatever it is that other folks have seen in 'L'avventura,' what I see is a stunning visual presentation that does its best to aid its companion component of storytelling that struggles to limp along. I don't regret watching it; I am, however, unsure that the visuals alone especially made it worth three and a half hours of my time.

"L'avventura"--"The Adventure", an adventure into the void of the modern world.

Antonioni's first international success is a subtle masterpiece focusing on the disappearance of an unhappy woman on an island and her friends' subsequent search. This is one of my favorite films of all-time. The composition and camerawork is aesthetically perfect; every frame is beautiful. The film's subtle psychological exploration is masterful, dealing with isolation and the protagonist's passive lifestyle forced to change under new circumstances. The sparse score perfectly fits the mysterious tone of the picture. Monica Vitti is nothing short of magnificent in the lead role. Constricting and excess plot details have been cut away, and the pace is slowed to allow the viewer to take in the wonderful images and actually think about the meanings and ideas contained within them. For viewers seeking serious, artful, intelligent, subtle, visually-stunning 'pure' cinema, this is the epitome.

While searching for a woman who has gone missing on a deserted island, the woman's best friend and fiancée slowly fall in love, to the point where they virtually forget her existence…

Anna (Lea Massari), the girl who disappears, isn't a very likable sort. Selfish, fickle and aimless, she typifies the sense of ennui which seems to surround all the characters in Michelangelo Antonioni's breakthrough film. The opening half-hour of the film is as aimless as the characters aboard Sandro's (Gabriele Ferzetti) yacht, a smug and smirking bunch who crack humourless quips. There's Raimundo and his wife, who are probably the most grounded of the group; Corrado, who constantly snipes at his wife Giulia 's literalism (he's got a point); Anna and Sandro, both of whom seem to have drifted into an engagement that one is unsure of and the other indifferent to, and Claudia (the gorgeous Monica Vitti) who is the only faintly sympathetic character amongst them.

The film is made up of two halves, and things go pretty much as you'd expect following Anna's disappearance. Her worried friend's search the island before they split up – some returning to the mainland to alert the authorities while the others remain to continue the search. It's only when the police arrive that things start diverging from the norm. Sandro begins to overtly display his attraction to Claudia, much to her initial discomfort, and as the search for Anna moves from the island to the mainland, the impression is gradually given that, as they drift into a relationship, both Sandro and Claudia forget what they are looking for.

How profound, you might think. Well, yes and no – or maybe.

One thing that struck me about reviews for this film is how they almost all praise the film without really attempting to explain – or seeming to understand, for that matter – what it was about in anything other than the most general terms, and I'd challenge anyone to divine exactly what was at the core of Antonioni's thinking when he devised the film. Quite frankly, the film is so impenetrable on anything other than a general level that it leaves itself accessible to any interpretation you wish to attach to it. Great if you're an up-and-coming filmmaker out to make a name for yourself, but not so wonderful if you're hoping for some kind of understanding of what you are watching. For this reason I sometimes wonder whether some of these classic films are given 10/10 simply because they have been universally hailed as classics and appear near the top of all the critics' all-time greatest movies lists.

The film looks great: interesting locations, handsome and beautiful actors, and truly outstanding cinematography. The character of the shallow, self-serving Sandro is the most interesting and I would like to have seen it focused on in a little more depth. His motives, and those of most of the characters, however, are too obscure to be understood, which, I suppose, provides us with the film's second unsolved mystery

L'Avventura is an absolute masterpiece and a major key in Antonioni's catalogue. It revolutionizes not only the traditional way of storytelling, but cinema as a whole. Instead of using habitual storytelling techniques with a subjective point of view (following the main character wherever he is), Antonioni introduced a radical innovation. We'll never know what has become of Anna and the camera will no longer be attached to her, by contrast the focus of the film will move towards the duo formed by her former lover and her best friend. It's an overwhelming experience, that introduces a dark reflection on identity, the emptiness of life and the fragility of human feelings. This film also presents great qualities in mise en scène and directing and great acting performances from both Monica Vitti and Gabriele Ferzetti.

An exceptional way to start this trilogy of decadence.

Antonioni's "L'Avventura" is a most curious creation... It may be because this is the first film of the director's that I have seen, but I found it wilfully alienating and profuse in its indulgence.

This is first and foremost a cinematographer's film; absolutely astounding work here at times... there is an artist's eye to these canvases, such scope and depth to the pictures; it's quite beguiling. This is all said to be representative of Antonioni's vision of dislocated, isolated figures within a barren, icily arid Sicilian landscape.

The vision is soundly, perhaps too laboriously executed. Everything moves at a stubbornly staid, slow pace; surely meant to be symbolic of the odd, inert existences of the main characters. Inertia is excellently evoked; as is the emptiness of Ferzetti's character's emotions. Monica Vitti has an incredible screen presence, yet too much of her character is just built around playing at being enigmatic. Antonioni's camera revels in capturing this classical beauty in her languorous glory.

Yet it is the film's studied languor that really does alienate. The first 45-60 minutes, with the central enigma posed, leave one expecting something more special in the remainder. A hope that is not fulfilled, as the affair between Ferzetti and Vitti is padded out to its extremes. It's just not so interesting and involving a film once the action shifts away from the island. Everything is lingered on for perhaps inordinate lengths of time. Of course, the photography bewitches, but the actual dramatic matter of the film begins to grate a little after a while.

There is an excellent usage of subtle, background sounds to create a naturalistic, slightly unnerving effect, particularly in the island scenes, which form the most compelling part of the film. Also, the use of extras and bystanders, particularly late on, in the party scenes, is fantastic. Very subtle glances and body language from these extras help give a sense of odd scale about things. Adds a little more ambiguity as well.

There is little dialogue actually in this 145 minute film, and really the lines that do occur are not always that important; it is a film that rests on its photogenic lead performers and the intimidating tableaux of the photography. I did not really enjoy this film as an experience overall; it disappoints, perhaps because of its comparatively narrow focus, and the way things are stretched out needlessly. So, a film to be admired, and credited with a valid "vision", but not one to be loved.

Rating:- *** 1/2/*****

A woman mysteriously disappears during a yachting trip to a derelict island off the Italian coast, whereupon the group of friends accompanying her lethargically conduct some sort of search effort. This is a contemplative, slow-moving study of decadence and apathy among the Italian bourgeois. Most everything bore these people, even the disappearance of a friend - and in turn, they certainly know how to bore us back. Michelangelo Antonioni has an angle and something to say, but offers no pretext for why we should care, and his film lacks style and purpose. It's a drab movie about drabness - all parable, no heart. Antonioni cannot even make a trip to beautiful Taormina cinematic. With Gabriele Ferzetti as the supposed playboy Sandro, Lea Massari as his lover who disappears, and Monica Vitti as the girl caught in the middle.

The viewer initially ties himself to the character of Lea Massari, but the main character is really Monica Vitti's, from whose eyes the viewer eventually watches everything and every event. The situation establishes a connection (empathy) and afterwards a Catharsis (= unhappiness and fear through a work of art containing elements of unhappiness and fear) purification. Michelangelo Antonioni thus created, in 1960, a new film language based on what the critic Jose LIno Grunewald called ¨the peeling of unreality.¨ The Adventure is a work of art that keeps its promises from the beginning to the end. The word Adventure here means anything but mystery-adventure-tension-crime, excitement, thrill or speedy action. The music score by Giovanni Fusco rather reinforces an expectation of ¨still-life dead tempos,¨and the audience is never confronted with, so to say, a proper ¨adventure.¨

The circular story, the emphasis on isolation and futility, and the symbolic use of Sicilian landscape returned with greater strength in "L'Avventura," the first film in a free trilogy ("La Notte" and "L'Eclisse" followed) about restless, disillusioned unhappy women and sensitive, unreliable, soft men...

Some way into the movie and without a careful explanation, a central affluent character disappears without a trace from a yachting trip... Few of the group of socialites—wealthy, elegant, bored—come in sight bothered by what has occurred, and while the girl's neglectful sweetheart and her best friend (Monica Vitti) pair off in a search around a remote, uninhabited island, they embark on a spontaneous exciting intimacy…

The story is simple, but the greatness of the film, however, is in two parts... First, it analyzes the psychology of the two main characters in keen and penetrating yet doubtful tones... Second, unconcerned with the reasons for the girl's unexpected disappearance, Antonioni instead concentrates on the moral discomfort that drives forward their closest knowledge to betray her memory...

Gorgeous film, with devastating commentary on relationships. Early on there is something raw and elemental about the dramatic setting, an island with the sea roaring around its craggy inlets, rock formations that look ancient, and the wind howling as it blows up a storm. The people that have come to this place on a pleasure cruise off the coast of southern Italy are generally all unhappy or dissatisfied, most of them with the person they're in a relationship with. When Anna (Lea Massari) suddenly goes missing, a search ensues.

I loved the premise, and loved even more where the film went from there. Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti), Anna's fiancé, begins pursuing her friend Claudia (Monica Vitti) from the first day of her absence, which is pretty shocking. And the further the action moves away from the island and we see the other characters either getting on with their lives (most of which involve infidelities of their own), or making what seems to be a pretty distant effort to know what's happening, the more we wonder, but what about Anna? If it were a conventional film, I'd be thinking that given the guy starts dating her girlfriend pretty much immediately after she goes missing, why are the police not investigating him? Or questioning a character named Corrado, who had gone off in a boat to a smaller island right beforehand? But the film is not meant to be a mystery, it's making a point about the human condition.

What does it mean to live one's life how one wants, to seek happiness, and to be able to adapt and move on, things that you might think would all be positive, at least to some degree? Does it mean inherent selfishness, infidelity, and unkindness? And can monogamous relationships survive in a world where little dissatisfactions set in, and there is always another person to be attracted to? I thought the film was well paced and had no issues with its length, as it allows subplots to develop, and the longer it went, the more it caused me to occasionally wonder ... what about Anna? And is this what we do to the people in our lives, pushing them out of mind when it becomes convenient? I loved how the film stayed artistically pure, seeking its vision, without caving in and giving us canned or artificial moments. And in that last moment, what I saw as forgiveness for what is an unforgiveable act ... perhaps it signals something that seems pretty depressing, that infidelity is inevitable, and it takes an almost divine act like that hand on the back of the head to stay together as a couple.

Through it all, director Michelangelo Antonioni gives us a beautiful, beautiful film. His compositions and attention to detail - in grand, sweeping shots and those that are closer - are wonderful. There are countless scenes that are visually appealing, and while it felt like there was a unifying theme in the aesthetic, he seems to experiment a little, such as that great shot from the boat back towards the dock, lightly bobbing with the waves, and the rocky island rising up in the background.

Some other little bits:

• Anna had two books with her on the trip, F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'Tender is the Night' and the Holy Bible. I liked how the father conveniently disregarded the first, with its themes on the unhappiness in marriage, and took the Bible exclusively to mean that she hadn't committed suicide. We see what we want to see.

• Just as human relationships are subject to impermanence maybe out of neglect, one of the people clumsily drops an ancient vase discovered in one of the island's caves, and it makes no difference to them.

• There is reverence for the freedom and spacing of the architectural style of ancient buildings which have survived, but our lives seem so dreadfully transient in comparison. In one scene Ferzetti's character deliberately tips over an inkwell on an artist's drawing, seemingly out of spite. I wondered if he was jealous of youth, or jealous of having sold out on his old dreams to become more of a businessman than an architect - sensing his own mortality, or his compromises in a too-short life.

• In keeping with the elemental early scenes and the commentary on the fundamental nature of people, there was something primal about the very aggressive southern Italian male gaze from dozens of men in a large crowd around Monica Vitti in one scene, which was very creepy.

• Favorite quote, Anna at about the 25 minute mark:

"I'm distraught. The idea of losing you makes me want to die. And yet I don't feel you anymore." Shortly afterwards, she's gone.

One could go on and on analyzing this great film, but I will settle here for merely (hopefully) being entitled to my opinion.

I have my favorites (Rumble Fish, The Last Picture Show), my most moving (The Plague Dogs and Pather Panchali), greatest achievements (Ben Hur, The Remains of The Day, Wild Strawberries), my no brainers (Citizen Kane, The Third Man, Intolerance). But this is, if I were objective yet receptive, probably the Best film I've ever seen. The only film that could make his Blowup seem less than it is, which is fabulous. I saw this film only once, on the big screen, thirty years ago. Even now, just thinking about it knocks me off my foundation and forces a reevaluation of all that I believe about humans interacting between nature, themselves and each other.

After reading the other reviews, I must add one observation. All my long adult life I have read about segments of `otherwise' great films dragging. Even accounting for the 'enjoy a baseball game' vs. `NBA gives action every second' mentalities and the endless MTV Generation attention span analogies, this is a load of dung. This is not a matter of taste. It is always a matter of the filmmaker's realization going over the viewer's head, to put it bluntly. When I was a kid, scientists explained that we use only five percent of our brain. Each decade they admit to a bit more of it being used to some effect. How learned exponents of the scientific method could ignore atrophy and evolution is beyond me, but film fans are often expert in this exercise in self delusion. We don't grasp something, so we call it a mistake. We don't see how something is helping us, so we say it doesn't do anything at all. It's called ignorance, not stupidity. Nothing to be ashamed of. We can learn if we continue to expose ourselves to the work of filmmakers more talented than ourselves.

The griping about today's blockbusters being special effects and deal driven are well known, and largely true. Here is a film that illuminates and reveals, I suspect, more than we viewers can ever perceive from it. It works superbly on so many levels at once that it dazzles us with its brilliance. It informs all of that with pure filmmaking consisting of director's craft, acting ability, writing talent and cinematography. It reveals its vision with its spaces as effectively as with its active elements. It allows us to bring much of ourselves to it by not filling up the experience wall to wall with specifics. It forces us to see most films as the obvious, spoon fed tripe that they are. What more could you ask from a film?