RED DESERT (1964)

What’s immediately impressive about Michelangelo Antonioni’s Red Desert / Il deserto rosso is how it depicts the coldness of its factory backdrops. The bleak industrialisation on display feels haunting and oppressive, which acutely mirrors protagonist Giuliana’s (Monica Vitti) sense of distress. After she is involved in an automobile accident, her sense of self tears apart at the seams. This creates a vivid parallel between her emotional state and the movie’s environments, with Red Desert’s setting feeling like a pure representation of Giuliana’s volatility.

Some of the backdrops are truly awe-inspiring, where Antonioni elevates these characters’ dour surroundings to the point where it feels as if they exist in a version of reality that’s only barely recognisable. They seem to represent an entirely new force of nature that has overtaken natural beauty, spelling out a new kind of environment that causes these characters to become enveloped by it.

Antonioni disagreed with the notion that Red Desert is looking to critique industrialisation, stating: “It’s too simplistic to say —as many people have done —that I am condemning the inhuman industrial world which oppresses the individuals and leads them to neurosis. My intention… was to translate the poetry of the world, in which even factories can be beautiful.” In a sense, he achieves this spectacularly, but it’s difficult not to see this new form of beauty as cold and distant, as well as being unable to alleviate some of Giuliana’s suffering the way a picturesque landscape could have.

This coldness is also applied to its characters, who never feel like anything more than abstractions that the filmmaker can toy with to recite new ideas. Giuliana’s distress is portrayed too simplistically and obviously to take seriously, with seemingly countless moments of her dramatically leaning against a wall or turning abruptly from one. There’s an air of theatricality to these scenes that would be funny if the film was attempting to lean in that direction. But this isn’t Antonioni’s intention, so much of this drama merely feels uninspired.

Red Desert is almost entirely comprised of conversations that meander to an unholy extent, with the philosophical musings (and ramblings) of these characters never possessing much urgency. Each character feels like a stand-in at one time or another for the director, or for specific perspectives he’s looking to give voice to. One can feel Antonioni’s presence in such scenes as if he’s a puppet master looming over his characters and audience.

Much of the meat of this film covers Giuliana’s conversations with Corrado (Richard Harris), a businessman visiting the area looking to hire workers for a project in Patagonia, Argentina. The pair’s interactions are incredibly unhurried, with no sense of momentum or rhythm driving them, and little curiosity on Antonioni’s part to make these exchanges feel grounded.

Even on a technical level, there were disappointing aspects of Red Desert, with stiff camera movements that awkwardly drag our point of focus from one spot to another. The dubbed conversations are painful to sit through, where it’s impossible not to feel robbed of emotional investment when one can clearly see that the audio doesn’t match these characters’ lips. It’s also difficult to care about Corrado or gauge Richard Harris’ acting ability when his lines, performed in English, were recorded by an Italian actor in postproduction and dubbed over Harris’ speech.

This makes it impossible to connect with the actor’s performance, though Antonioni deserves credit for supposedly incorporating shots that only show the character from behind in the film, as Harris had already abandoned the project by this point. There are conflicting reports on the incidents that led to Harris dropping out of production, with some stating that an argument took place between the actor and Antonioni, which may or may not have led to Harris punching the Italian director. Richard Harris’ impending film shoot for Major Dundee (1965) and Red Desert being behind schedule have also been used to speculate as to why the Irish actor abandoned Antonioni’s film. Whatever the case, it’s not immediately obvious what scenes featured this other actor with his back turned to the camera, which is impressive in its own right.

The technique of casting non-Italian actors in Italian productions, only to dub them later in post-production, wasn’t unheard of at this time in Italian cinema. Still, that does little to excuse how poor a creative choice this was since its limitations are purely based on storytelling and emotional investment, rather than a case of this film being hampered by inadequate and old-fashioned technology. This approach would be just as ill-conceived now as at the time of the film’s release, though luckily modern directors wouldn’t think to commit to such a bold move unless it had a more specific, abstract intent. One could argue that this strange approach to dialogue aids the movie, contributing to the idea that nothing that is presented in Red Desert is real—or feels real, anyway. But that’s not exactly a brilliant quality in and of itself.

Plenty of bad movies don’t exactly feel real, where instead of falling into the trap of most aggravating films—bland mainstream fare—they’re instead desperately awkward. Red Desert isn’t so bad as to qualify on that front, since there are a few compelling moments and elements that redeem the experience of watching it, but it does stray towards that territory at points. There’s no denying, though, that it is worth watching for its visuals alone, with some shots being truly remarkable to behold.

Antonioni sought to move away from naturalism with his compositions in Red Desert, saying: “I want to paint the film as one paints the canvas; I want to invent the colour relationships, and not limit myself to photographing only natural colours.”Given this was his first film in colour, he took full advantage of the opportunities this provided him, with background objects and scenery painted with a yellow hue to evoke the effects of this smoke-tinged atmosphere.   

The sounds in this film are also appropriately disconcerting, with the factories surrounding these characters emitting noises that wouldn’t go amiss in a horror movie. What appear to be fog horns play out regularly, adding to the experience of derealisation that is gradually enveloping Giuliana. Thankfully, the viewer is not made aware of her specific troubles, making the film’s general sense of foreboding and melancholy occasionally resonant.

Some of Red Desert’s scenes might be compromised by stiff and awkward delivery, whether that’s in the dubbed-over dialogue or the sense that its actors are merely waiting for something around them to happen so that they can hit their mark. But this also creates a tangible sense of unpredictability in these environments, which pairs well with how Giuliana seems as if she is on the verge of breaking down at any moment. 

A smile from the character is almost always wiped away just one moment later, but what’s even more impressive is how Antonioni is confident enough in portraying her sorrow that he doesn’t always make it the focal point of his compositions. There are times when it doesn’t even seem as if the viewer’s eyes are supposed to be focused on Giuliana, but one can see her fraying mental state written plainly on her changing expressions all the same.

While there are impressive elements at play here, they do little to stop this story from being plodding, as it fails to convey the depths of Giuliana’s despair. For those seeking a more thorough depiction of the negative emotions that plague this protagonist, Charlie Kaufman’s Anomalisa (2015) artfully illustrates its main character’s outlook through its style, while John Cassavetes’ A Woman Under the Influence (1974) imbues the most mundane of events with endless reserves of sorrow and tension.

Red Desert might have an effective veneer of psychological trauma, but closer inspection reveals that ultimately it comes up empty. As much as Antonioni’s film should be admired as a committed tone piece, its screenplay and rigid style leave much to be desired. Red Desert robs its viewers of the chance to sink into its narrative or to be rewarded for their patience with this rather dull film.

ITALY • FRANCE | 1964 | 120 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ITALIAN • TURKISH

Cast & Crew

director: Michelangelo Antonioni.
writers: Michelangelo Antonioni & Tonino Guerra.
starring: Monica Vitti, Richard Harris, Carlo Chionetti, Xenia Valderi, Rita Renoir & Aldo Grotti.