Reviews of Recent Independent, Foreign, & Documentary Films in Theaters and DVD/Home Video
Directed by: Michelangelo Antonioni. Produced by: Carlo Ponti. Written by: Mark Peploe, Peter Wollen & Michelangelo Antonioni. Director of Photography: Luciano Tovoli. Edited by: Franco Arcalli & Michelangelo Antonioni. Released by: Sony Pictures Classics. Language: English. Country of Origin: France/Italy/USA/Spain. 126 min. Rated: PG. With: Jack Nicholson, Maria Schneider, Jenny Runacre & Ian Hendry.
In Africa, British-based journalist Locke (Jack Nicholson) staggers back to
his dingy hotel, his vehicle having got stuck in the sand while covering a local
political uprising. (Only in the '70s could a man wear a shirt completely
unbuttoned with its ends tied in a knot.) Looking for a bar of soap, he
knocks on his neighbor's door and discovers the man lying dead on the bed.
Locke carries the man into his room, exchange clothes, and swaps IDs and
belongings. Now as Robertson, he goes off first to Munich and then to
Spain, keeping the appointments in Robertson's date book. And like a
metaphysical Charade, Locke meets his love interest, The Girl (Maria
Schneider), thinking she might be the Daisy in Robertson's calendar. Like
Locke, The Girl is a blank canvas; but unlike Nicholson, the inexpressive
Schneider really does come across as a blank.
Nicholson's performance is unusually passive. When he
does lose control, lost and abandoned in the desert, he's like a pouting
school boy. Rather than focusing on the actor, the scene is framed in a
medium wide shot - the setting and ambiance get the star treatment.
Nicholson's only one part in director Antonioni's
sweeping panoramic shots of the North African desert or bustling Gaudí-esque
Barcelona.
The film's London media lionizes the supposedly departed Locke for his great
talent for observation, which is exactly what Antonioni challenges the
viewer to do. As in his other films, you can never be really sure of what
you see or believe. At The Passenger's most simplistic, Locke's
reinvention is a tenuously intriguing mystery. The dialogue may be vague
(Girl: "Do you believe in coincidence?" Locke: "I never asked myself"), but
the symbolism is not. After Locke mentions he may be in danger, the next
shot is of an elderly Spaniard sitting against a large and looming roadside
cross. And as Locke's past catches up to him, the film's pace slackens, just
to make sure no detail is left unnoticed or not contemplated by the
viewer.
But the real Antonioni discovery this year is the DVD release of his first
feature, Story of a Love Affair, a film noir from 1950. A wealthy
industrialist finds old photos of his rather guarded wife appearing
strikingly carefree and hires a private eye to investigate her. (As in
Blow-Up, photos only reveal so much.) With a class-conscious story
not dissimilar from The Postman Always Rings Twice (or should I say
Ossessione), this beautifully composed black-and-white film
emphasizes the suspended space between characters, just one of this director’s forthcoming touches. Kent Turner
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