In L'avventura, a poorly disciplined brunette girlfriend of a sad, castrated excuse of a man (who is really more interested in her blonde "friend" with benefits) decides to act independently further than her breeches hold. She consequently "disappears" during a tiny boat cruise, among some rocks, and we are regaled with endless shots of Mediterranean wilderness and an incessant yakking of rabid bitches on the general topics of what was it that could have been were it bla bla bla bla bla.
In Le Amiche, a poorly disciplined brunette girlfriend of a sad, castrated excuse of a man (who is really more interested in her blonde "friend" with benefits) decides to act independently further than her breeches hold. She consequently "suicides" except not really (pills, obviously), and we are regaled with endless shots of rural Torino and an incessant yakking of rabid bitches on the general topics of what was it that could have been were it bla bla bla bla bla.
To make either one of these is an utter insult to common fucking sense. Really dood, you haven't seen Lea Massari for a month, and so consequently you'll let Monica Vitti wait in the courtyard looking through the window while you sorta-fuck her but notrly ? Why the everloving fuck! She's bringly blondy upstairs and you fuck both of them, what! What!
If any girly thinks herself independent enough to go about the island without as much as asking for permission she fucking rots there at the best, and she gets whipped black and blue otherwise, should she be late. Which late is defined as, taking longer to materialize before you than it takes you to notice she's not there. And similarily, if any girly thinks herself independent enough to "suicide", she's going to spend all her remaining life in traction should she fail. And I don't mean medical traction, like they use for fractures. I mean punitive traction, like they use for would-be goddesses.
The whole tedious, yakky nonsense is more an insult to humanity, European culture (which is to say, the only human culture there ever was or there ever could be) and the traditions of patriarchy (which is to say, the only human society worth the mention) than the tedious imbecility of our New World colonies aptly represented by Desert Heartsiii.
Burn the whole fucking lot down, or as the Immortal FOCA once said,
These are the shittiest ideas possible ; they make no fucking sense. You don't make any fucking sense. You should die for coming up with this shit ; I can't even explain how come you're not dead already. They will never appeal to anyone ever. These ideas are at the root of the holocaust and AIDS and diarrhea. Fucking hell, independent cowsy ? Really ? You're making a laughingstock of yourself, and of me, indirectly, for having ever known you, and lived on the same continent, and saw you come up with this shit and you didn't die during. We will have to kill ourselves if anyone ever finds out you really...
Inasmuch as he didn't fucking die during filmingiv of either turd, it is an indelible shame to have ever met Antonioni.———
- 1955, by Michelangelo Antonioni, with Gabriele Ferzetti and various Cinecitta starlets [↩]
- 1960, by Michelangelo Antonioni, with Gabriele Ferzetti and various Cinecitta starlets [↩]
- 1985, by and with a bunch of tiresome old lesbos. Worst fucking writing ever, too, the most contrived, hacky sort of self-conscious nonsense any ambitious subnormal teenaged girl might ever vomit upon paper. [↩]
- The tragedy of life on Earth is that Pietrangeli drowns in water, leaving Antonioni behind to drown the rest of us in shit. [↩]