Italy
, 109 min
Shown in 1980
CREDITS
- dir
-
Franco Brogi Taviani
- prod
-
Franco Brogi Taviani
- scr
-
Franco Brogi Taviani
- cam
-
Angelo Bevilaequa
- cast
-
Paolo Malco, Francesca de Sapio, Fabrizio Bentivoglio, Inga Alexandrova, Dario Massoli
-
COMMENTS
Francesca de Sapio in person.
Franco Brogi Taviani, the youngest of the family whose sons appear to be devoted to the cinema (his elder brothers were the directors of Padre Padrone) has chosen a fascinatingly controversial subject for his first feature: Masoch is based upon the life of the 19th-century German writer and psychosexual experimentalist, Leopold Sacher-Masoch, from whose activities the term masochism is derived. One must be forewarned, however, that the film is not a prurient exercise in deviant romps, but an impressive drama in which Masoch’s daring philosophies of erotic stimulation and divertissements of the bedchamber are counterbalanced by a tragicomic look at a strange union: The marriage between Leopold and “Wanda” defines the repressions and sexual restraints of an era. The film is a saga in which Leopold dictates to the spectator the progress of his impulsive need to define sexual obsession, its control over masculine ego and vice versa; the style of the film is an exquisite balance between sophistication and humor, and laughter becomes very much a part of these incredible games of love, where the position of slave versus master can shift without warning. The performance of Francesca de Sapio as the middle-class woman who seeks security in marriage to her Svengali-like Leopold is superbly realized. In the midst of all the role-playing that she is forced to endure, she retains her desire to raise her children in a normal environment. Perhaps it is needless to say that Masoch is one of the best of the new Italian films and the only one, so far, to define with wit the extent to which one’s sexual destiny may be controlled by the well-placed utterances of the word “no.”
—Albert Johnson
FACTOID #180
According to the Chronicle’s Herb Caen, producer David O. Selznick’s ’last letter and last phone call were to [SFIFF administrator] Shirley Temple Black to whom he said, ’I can’t wait to see you at the Festival.’’ Selznick was the namesake for a series of awards at the San Francisco International.
