I first saw this movie when it came out in 1960. I was just seventeen years of age at the time. I found the film intriguing, even haunting, but I was also confused by it. I was ill-equipped at that stage of life to make clear sense of an experience so vague and unconventional. I had no further thought about the film, after a day or two, until another day some twenty-plus years later when I was chatting idly with my wife, who was pregnant at the time, about possible names for the baby. As an aside, I commented that there are some names that I like when pronounced one way but not when pronounced another way. I added, as an example, that I don’t especially like the name “Claudia” in its Anglo pronunciations (especially because of its similarity to “claudication”, which means a limp), but that I adore the same name when pronounced in French. I then mentioned that I had once seen a film, the name of which I had long since forgotten, that had really impressed me, in which the central character’s name was “Claudia” – pronounced cloud-ee-ah. At that moment, I felt an urge to see the movie again, but had no idea how I could locate it. Then, another twenty-plus years later, as part of my foreign film binge that I began in last August, I checked out this highly acclaimed film, L’Avventura, having no idea I had previously seen it or that it was my long lost “Cloud-ee-ah” treasure. Obviously, I was delighted to remake her acquaintance!

The Vast Divide: We often toss about the phrase, “You’ll either love it or you’ll hate it!”, but it probably applies more accurately to this film than most any other. It has been the life story of L”Avventura from its conception. No film divides viewers more viciously into irreconcilable camps than does L’Avventura. It is quite simply not a film for everybody. When it was screened for the first time at the Cannes Festival in 1960, the audiences booed and jeered. They laughed at and mocked the serious scenes of the film with so much vigor that Monica Vitti, the star of the film, walked out of one screening in tears. Audiences denounced the film as a boring film about shallow people with empty lives, pretentious and overlong. They asked, as others do today, “Why can’t these characters talk to each other in a normal fashion?” “It seems like they chose a random spot to put ‘The End’ sign.” They complained that nothing happens.

Before the resounding of the jeers had even subsided, L’Avventura was awarded the Cannes Festival Grand Jury Prize “for a new movie language and the beauty of its images.” Later in the year, renowned film critic Pauline Kael declared it the best film of the year. By 1962, it had been slotted at #2 in the list of all-time great films, after Citizen Kane, in the list published annually by Sight & Sound magazine. It stayed in their top ten until 1992. L’Avventura also went on to be a box-office success. L’Avventura thus became to film what Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring was to music – a revolutionary new form of expression, lavishly jeered by much of the public but highly acclaimed by innumerable critics. While the The Rite of Spring was merely ahead of its time, time will likely never catch up with L’Avventura. More about that later.

The Plot (such as it is) and its Meaning: As the film opens, the central character appears to be Anna (Lea Massari). She is an attractive young woman, born into wealth and the upper crust society of Sicily. We quickly learn that she is bored with her life, somewhat unglued, and suffering from what might be called existential angst. She is ambivalent toward her lover, Sandro, simultaneously demanding but avoiding commitment in her relationship with him. She appears to be sleep-walking through life, observing it like an alien, but unable to actually grad hold of it. She sees too clearly her own loneliness but too little how to alleviate it. She tries vainly to create the feeling of being alive through pleasurable diversions, from sex to a yachting excursion with her society friends. Even her lovemaking with Sandro (Gabriele Ferzitti) is uncertain and detached.

Anna invites her best friend Claudia (Monica Vitti) to join her and Sandro and a group of wealthy couples on an excursion. This is what the wealthy idle do. On the yacht, still bored, Anna yells “shark” while some are swimming in a silly attempt to enliven the dreary day. Later, they stop near a barren, volcanic island to explore about. Shortly after setting foot on the island, Anna quarrels with Sandro and, asking to be left alone, wanders off. Later, the party notices Anna’s absence and begin to look for her. She is nowhere to be found!

The yacht is sent to bring help while some remain behind to comb the island for Anna. The cinematography, here, is haunting, emphasizing the rugged, almost violent landscape. The searchers in these scenes are typically presented in isolation and out of the center of each frame, as if to emphasize indomitable nature as the center of this story with the people as mere ornaments on the periphery. As they search, we wonder at each turn if that is where she will be found. It begins to appear that she is nowhere on the island. The searchers hear a boat passing nearby. Somewhere. We hear a boat, or did we? We’re not really sure. Later, another boat . . . or perhaps not. Did Anna leave on that boat? Or another? She did say that she wanted to be alone. The police show up with search teams to scour the island and to check rocky ravines not accessible to the civilians. Her disappearance is disquieting. A boat with smugglers is taken into custody. Did they kidnap her or take her on board? Was there foul play involved? The story begins to take on the aura of an unsolved mystery. Anna’s father arrives, but seems mainly bothered that his busy schedule has been disrupted for nothing more serious than an errant child. Back on the yacht, Claudia is surprised when Sandro takes hold of her and kisses her. Startled, she pulls away, immediately. It is just a brief, subtle moment, as if it barely happened, almost deniable. Is she disgusted that he would betray Anna, his fiancée as well as her best friend, so soon?

Soon the search on the island must be abandoned. Sandro and Claudia must continue the search alone. Tips about possible sightings of Anna come in from here and there on the mainland. Sandro is a rather self-absorbed man, shallow and self-pitying. He once had high expectations for himself, “I saw myself as a genius working in a garret. Now I’ve got two flats and I’ve neglected to become a genius.” He’s not so much insensitive as incapable of any genuine attachment. He is driven only by a vague sense of his own needs.

Gradually, viewers begin to realize that Claudia, rather than Anna, is the central protagonist in this film. Claudia is our surrogate, our point of view. In contrast to Anna and Sandro, Claudia is not a part of the haute bourgeois. She grew up without money. She represents the lower class and the Marxist orientation of Antonioni. She is the only character in the film who has some connection to her own emotions, yet even she lacks a clear internal definition for herself. She initially repudiates Sandro’s advances out of loyalty to her friend. It’s too soon after Anna’s disappearance, she feels, to give dignity to such feelings. She exhibits genuine interest in continuing the search for her friend – out of love and fidelity. Gradually, however, Claudia accepts Sandro as her lover. Her carnal desire for him overcomes any remaining loyalty to her friend. Now, Claudia, like Sandro, no longer mourns for Anna, even though they half-heartedly continue the outward pretense of a search.

In a hotel for the night, Sandro leaves the room to go prowling as Claudia sleeps. Soon he is involved with a girl in the hotel bar. Claudia awakens and is disturbed by his absence. Has Anna returned? Will she reclaim him? She goes looking for Sandro and finds him in the arms of the prostitute. Claudia walks out into the dawn. As Sandro gets up, the girl asks him for a souvenir and he tosses her some bills. Outside, Sandro begins to cry. Claudia looks at him compassionately and puts her hand on his head to comfort him. This, believe it or not, is the end of the film!

Many find that ending frustrating, but it is thought provoking and can lead to a variety of interpretations. Mine may not be THE definitive one. In my view, Claudia now understands, as Anna did earlier, that Sandro is incapable of real love or attachment. It’s not so much that he betrays his lovers. He simply can’t attach to them. He is true in his way -- true to his own hedonistic need to have a warm body next to him, someone to fill a role (and it really doesn’t matter much who that someone is). This is who he is, and any amount of preaching to him about commitment or faithfulness is wasted breathe. One is reminded of films about natural disasters when a child loses his or her entire family, how quickly they can reattach to whatever source of comfort and security is available. Sandro has that childlike “flexibility.” When Claudia places her hand on Sandro’s head, it is a maternal act, not the act of a lover. She recognizes Sandro’s childlike need for reassurance and his incapacity for genuine attachment. Claudia has seen him as he is and, in so doing, has revealing him to us as well. It may not be a pretty revelation, but it’s a truthful one. Though Claudia has suffered a bit of anguish from his betrayal, she has grown in her capacity to recognize a sickness of human nature, and thereby, perhaps, avoid coming ultimately to a similar state of emptiness herself.

Analysis: Although viewers looking for a conventional narrative will be frustrated by the unresolved search, it is a key element of the film. The endless search is emblematic of the search for meaning in matters of human nature and spirit. The search without a conclusion and Anna herself become symbols of the unattainable and the unknowable.

Another theme of L’Avventura is ennui -- feelings of weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest. Most among us find our most direct source of focus and orientation in the activities necessary for survival and support. Some fortunate enough to have time left over after satisfying basic needs find stimulation in activities of the body or interests of the mind. For those that have neither the need to support themselves nor inner motivations, the likely end-point is existential angst -- an empty hell of ennui. Their lives become so tenuous that they exist only as markers on a barren landscape. They drift in a kind of restless purgatory, desperately but ineffectually seeking to fill the vacuum of their lives by the pursuit of pleasure. The agents of that pleasure become irrelevant: Claudia will do just as well as Anna and the prostitute as well as Claudia. Although the social commentary regarding the potential depravity among the idle rich might seem to be specific to the Italian context in L’Avventura, astute viewers will readily recognize its universality.

L’Avventura means the “adventure” or “the fling.” Either way, it is clearly not mainly about the search for Anna. It is the search for meaning on the one hand and the impossible search, on the other hand, for a drowning of ennui in hedonistic flings. L’Avventura came out in the same year as La Dolce Vita by Fellini. Both films were directed by revolutionary Italian filmmakers and both dealt with the pointless search for sensual pleasures as a balm for empty soul sickness. Otherwise, the approaches were quite distinctive.

Another interesting theme addressed in L’Avventura is the issue of shifting allegiances. Claudia initially refuses Sandro while she hopes that Anna will be found. Later she accepts him as a lover. Still later, she worries that Anna may come back and reclaim him. We see her approach the window in their hotel room, stare out at the sea, wondering if Anna will rise up from the ocean. All of us wonder when we grieve how much time must pass after loss of a loved one before we can begin to forget or substitute a new love and not have it feel like betrayal. The answer differs for all of us, but most of us would require a much longer period of mourning than did Sandro. His abrupt interest in Claudia reflects his lack of genuine attachment to Anna. Detachment is simplicity itself when attachment was very slight to begin with.

A New Cinematic Language The Jury at the Cannes Festival chose its words carefully when it recognized Antonioni for a new cinematic language. It is what is most special about this great film. It was not entirely new, however. In one sense, it was a throwback to silent film, when pictures had to take the place of words in conveying meaning. With the advent of sound, dialogue, narrative, and the script in general became the main driving force in communicating the story and developing the characters. Gradually, images became merely the companion of the language. What Antonioni did in L’Avventura was to reverse that trend. He returned to visual language, rather than simply telling viewers what was happening and what to think. It was a daring pictoral approach, but Antonioni accomplished his vision with utmost skill. In his conception, pictures tell more than words and the visual metaphors that result allow viewers to pierce more deeply into the essence of the characters. Film, in Antonioni’s approach, is not just a pretty picture book. In one scene, for example, Claudia asks Sandro, “Do you love me?” The words say one thing, but the pictures provide viewers with vivid evidence of the truth.

In L’Avventura, visual images provide insight into the internal workings of each character. For example, Sandro is frequently shown with buildings in the background – he is, after all, an architect. Typically, however, the buildings are empty shells or unimpressive functional structures, rather than the artistic masterpieces that Sandro once dreamed of creating. Claudia, on the other hand, is framed against wild landscapes, windswept vistas, or pounding waves, mirroring her untamed emotions. On the barren island, the characters in the party of idle society look off in different directions rather than at one another, self-absorbed and disconnected. The environment around them, however, reveals its uncertainty, as a boulder crashes into the sea. Claudia stares down into a deep ravine where waves thunder in and out, flooding our psyches with an unconscious sense of the primal violence and unfathomability of natural forces. The sharp contrast between the visual representations of the vacuous characters versus wild but pristine nature creates an incredible tension. Antonioni is in complete control of every frame.

To provide viewers with time for their visual instincts to operate, Antonioni makes use of a loose structure and unhurried pace, building in long silences. There is relatively little music or dialogue. Viewers will not be lulled into the kind of mental complacency that afflicts Anna and her crowd. Spaces are created for observation and reflection. The lack of dialogue is also in character with the existential isolation that the characters are experiencing. The manner of presentation is simple and quiet but stunning in its visual sophistication. Those who can pick up on the substitution of visual language for verbal language will be duly enthralled.

L’Avventura is sometimes described as a thinking man’s movie, but the truth of that assertion depends on how broadly one defines thinking. L’Avventura provides stimulation for and necessitates use of both the left side of the brain and the right. The left side of the brain – the verbal analytical side – has work to do interpreting the rich symbolism and in making sense out of a rather elliptical plot. The right side of the brain – that provides for holistic, imagistic, and intuitive analysis – has the even greater challenge of dealing with Antonioni’s sophisticated visual vocabulary. This film is more visual than symbolic. Either way, the viewer must be prepared to think and to engage actively with the film. L’Avventura is clearly not a film for those force fed on video games and Hollywood shoot-em-up special effects extravaganzas. This group can be expected to give up on this film within an hour and dismiss it as “boring” and “overrated.” Fans of this film cannot complain that it was ahead of its time because L’Avventura will forever have only a small audience of rapt admirers. Only a minority of viewers watch a film intending to exercise their gray matter. With the relentless speeding up of our culture, the percentage of viewers who can appreciate L’Avventura may actually be smaller today than it was when the film was made. This is a movie that requires that one not only read subtitles but – heaven forbid – even think! Ironically, the issue that separates those who admire this film from those that don’t is one of the themes of the film: the need to drown ennui in ceaseless stimulation.

Production Issues: L’Avventura almost never made it to theaters and video. The production problems were enormous. The island on which it was filmed had no water or electricity. The filming was threatened by violent weather on several occasions. The actress Lea Massari, who played Anna, suffered a heart attack during filming and was unconscious for two days. The company that was financing the film went bankrupt part way through and the yacht being used for filming was seized. The crew went unpaid for several weeks and finally went on strike.

As great as was Antoninio’s impeccable vision, L’Avventura could not have succeeded without Monaca Vitti. It is her stunning, translucent beauty that most makes the film watchable during the empty spaces. Her beauty and the depth (and/or emptiness) of her expressive countenance sustains us through the film’s slow pace.

DVD Version: The DVD version includes some interesting extras, including an insightful commentary by Gene Youngblood and two essays by Antonioni read by Jack Nicholson.

Bottom-Line: L’Avventura is the quintessential study of ennui and existential detachment. It is not a film for all viewers, but for those prepared to engage their analytical skills and visual intuition, L’Avventura can provide a rare and incomparably rich experience. It excels as a study of character by introducing a rich visual language that deepens understanding. In so doing, L’Avventura provides insights into our own psyches.


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You might want to check out these other excellent films from Italy:

Amarcord
The Bicycle Thief
Christ Stopped at Eboli
Cinema Paradiso
The Conformist
Death in Venice
Divorce Italian Style
The Dreamers
Eclipse
8 ½
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis
General della Rovere
The Last Emperor
The Leopard
Life is Beautiful
Malèna
Mamma Roma
Miracle in Milan
The Night of the Shooting Stars
Nights of Cabiria
La Notte
Padre Padrone
Il Postino
Rocco and His Brothers
Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom
Shoeshine
The Son’s Room
The Spider's Stratagem
Star Maker
Swept Away
Teorema
The Tree of Wooden Clogs
Umberto D.

Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age