THEOREM

THEOREM

(A.k.a. TEOREMA)

"You have seduced me, Lord, and I have let myself be seduced"...

Following on from an opening press interview at the gates of a factory which addresses the notion that the lower classes cannot continue to be so unless they have a struggle on their hands, we're thrown back in time by a few weeks to an eerily quiet Milan, 1968. Paolo (Massimo Girotti) is the po-faced owner of the local factory. It may not have brought him happiness, but it has brought him wealth: he lives in a spacious mansion with his pretty but bored wife Lucia (Silvana Mangano) and their adolescent kids, Odetta (Anne Wiazemsky) and Pietro (Andres Jose Cruz Soublette).

Overseen by their dour maid Emilia (Laura Betti), their home lives roll out with little interaction between each other and convening round the dinner table for meals appears to be an inconvenience for all.

But then one afternoon they hold a party at their home. Among the guests is a handsome young man (Terence Stamp) who no-one seems to recognise. In an unexplained development, the unnamed visitor remains at their home once the other guests have gone - and stays there for some time.

Emilia is the first to succumb to the visitor's wily charms. While he sunbathes reading a book, she tidies in the garden and rushes to brush his thigh clean when he drops cigarette ash on his trouser leg. She feels the frisson, he grins knowingly ... and before long the maid has been seduced.

This is just the beginning. The visitor continues to stay on as a house guest, and systematically works on individually seducing each member of the family. First he makes a move on the son Pietro, which is hardly surprising seeing as though they share a bedroom and Pasolini has seen fit to score their nocturnal scene with a 70s porn-type score.

Then the visitor works his magic on the parents and ultimately Pietro's sister Odetta. Each family character almost seems possessed, as if the mere presence of the visitor stirs urges in them that they can hardly contain: Stamp's silent, seductive manner - kind eyes, devilish grin - almost provoking his quarries into doing the chasing. Disillusioned Lucia's attraction to Stamp's character is obvious but deftly handled in a subtle outdoor scene of restrained erotica; his playful wresting with Paolo is surprisingly convincing. All are awoken to feelings they'd previously either not encountered or had suppressed.

But then, just as suddenly as he'd arrived, their mysterious guest announces round the dinner table one afternoon that he will be leaving the following day. And that's when things get even stranger.

In the film's latter half, the visitor's abrupt departure has enormous repercussions on Emilia and each family member. Without spoiling it for those yet to witness this absorbing treat, there are echoes of Luis Bunuel's BELLE DE JOUR in Lucia's reaction, while her kids suffer physically and Emilia has an epiphany of profound, surreal proportions. Paolo, meanwhile ... well, his own realisation is responsible for one of the most lingering sights in the entire film.

Pier Paolo Pasolini's THEOREM was released in 1968. It's said to form the centre of a loose trilogy - a 'mythical cycle' - bookended by the controversial Italian director's OEDIPUS REX and PIGSTY.

Its tale of a being who arrives without warning, changing the lives and outlooks of each member of an otherwise stifled household, and then leaves just as abruptly is a simple but effective one which is commonly read as religious allegory. Given the late director's penchant for such territory, it seems fair to view Stamp's character as a personification of God, and read the film on a broader scale as being concerned not just with attacking bourgeois sensibilities (though there's definitely a whiff of that) but with examining the joy that finding faith brings into one's life - and the emptiness it leaves behind once it has gone.

There's no denying that such food for thought does enhance the viewer's pleasure in watching this film. But even without such meaty subtext and allegorical allusions, THEOREM is a deeply involving, gratifying prospect.

The young Stamp is perfectly cast as the unnamed stranger - sexy, brooding and mysterious. Although he's only around for half of the film, his presence is felt throughout. The effect his departure has on the family is at once surreal, outlandish and - given Stamp's authority - curiously plausible. All performances, in fact, are superbly judged; the younger cast members are especially memorable.

The plot unfurls casually and in an unfussy, thankfully straightforward manner. A tight running time of just over 90 minutes in length keeps the film from straying into unnecessary navel-gazing, Pasolini's mandatory commentary on sexual politics instead being woven intelligently into oft-times silent observational scenes that serve as almost voyeuristic looks at the growing familial discomfort.

If the storyline sounds familiar, that's because Takashi Miike loved the film so much that he directed a remake-of-sorts in the form of the frankly nutty VISITOR Q. While there are no crazy lactating women in Pasolini's progenitor, it does deconstruct its family in a similar albeit quieter manner and the politics behind both films remain strikingly parallel. Where Pasolini's film manages to score additional points is in its more openly religious conviction, its Catholic persuasion battling themes of faith and moral uncertainty with fierce, unspoken intelligence.

If none of that interests you, however, the film is always mighty fine to look at with a deceptively simple visual design to it and boasts a rousing eclectic score from Ennio Morricone, with a little help from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It also addresses its concerns with a dark humour which I dare say all viewers can relate to. Despite little dialogue being spoken throughout, a combination of handheld camera and sharp editing lend proceedings a fluid immediacy.

Oh, and Fulci fans may want to look out for Carlo De Mejo (CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD; THE HOUSE BY THE CEMETRY) in an early role too!

Following on from a limited theatrical run earlier this year, the BFI bring THEOREM to the domestic market in a 2-disc blu-ray and DVD combo pack. Both discs were made available for the purpose of this review.

The film is presented uncut in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, and is of course enhanced for 16x9 televisions.

Having viewed the 50GB blu-ray disc first, the new transfer is given the benefit of full 1080p HD playback and has been newly struck from an original 35mm interpositive. It looks nicely filmic with great clarity for the most part. Texture is nice and free from any DNR tomfoolery, while a keen sense of depth in longer shots is pleasing to report upon. Colours and blacks are strongly conveyed. The print sourced is unfortunately rather worn at times even after restoration has taken place. Heavy grain is apparent on infrequent occasion too, but all in all this is easily the best I've seen Giuseppe Ruzzolini's aesthetically satisfying cinematography look. The quibbles mentioned are minor overall, and I don't hesitate to say this is a pleasing transfer.

Italian audio sounds good in a largely clean lossless 2.0 mix, while optional English subtitles are well-written and easy to read. There's also the bonus of the alternative English dubbed soundtrack (also in lossless 2.0) which, upon a cursory listen, sounded okay too.

The disc opens to an animated main menu page. From there, pop-up menus include a scene-selection menu allowing access to the film via 14 chapters.

Extras begin with an audio commentary track from film scholar Robert Gordon. It's an academic talk which nevertheless covers lots of interesting ground, including how the film was initially banned by the Vatican on charges of obscenity but later acquitted on the grounds of "high artistic value". Inevitably, Gordon touches several times upon Pasolini's homosexuality and the influence it had on not only this film but others in his singularly impressive canon (THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MATTHEW, THE DECAMERON, SALO OR THE 120 DAYS OF SODOM etc). This is a weighty listen at times, admittedly, but a worthy one all the same.

As mentioned above the film has recently been re-released theatrically in the UK and the 87-second trailer that the BFI produced for this event is also provided here.

Over on the DVD, we get all of the above in standard definition plus a 34-minute video interview with Stamp which was recorded back in 2007. I understand it's the same featurette that was included on the BFI's original DVD release of the film back in 2007.

In it, Stamp talks to Rosanna Capitano. He discusses his fondness of Federico Fellini (with whom he made the 'Toby Dammit' segment of SPIRITS OF THE DEAD, once Peter O'Toole had pulled out of it), Pasolini's distant and vague nature, the exciting prospect of working with Mangano and, more relevantly, offers good insight into his character in THEOREM (including translating how Pasolini's brief explanation of the character should come across). This interview is in English, but also comes with optional English subtitles.

Also available in this dual format set is a superb 20-page booklet with a new essay on the film by Geoffrey Nowell-Smith along with an archive Monthly Film Bulletin review of the film, notes on its new transfer and biographies for Pasolini and Stamp.

THEOREM is a film of great intellect that also manages to be accessible and visually stimulating. The facial expressions of the characters alone throughout are oddly, unnervingly worth the price of admission. Fans of world cinema will love it; Miike acolytes should view it just to see where VISITOR Q drew its inspiration from.

Despite looking a little rough around the edges (come on, it's an arthouse picture originally released some 45 years ago!), the presentation here is solid. A good release from the BFI, this comes recommended.

Review by Stuart Willis


 
Released by Bfi
Region B
Rated 18
Extras :
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