V W

Nice sweaters, great interiors, lovely use of lipstick. Which says it all about what I liked about this film. Overwritten and stunted dialogue, music obscuring any of the few decent and believe sentiments in the film, and a desperate and failed attempt to show the sublties and depth of female friendship. So much could have been done with this theme and these two acting greats but it was squandered for the sake of style and nice visuals.

Watching this film 40 years after my first viewing and I really can't see why this film is so consistently revered. The star of the show is wintery, misty Venice and the cinematography brings out the visual beauty and eirie distorted sounds of the city. But the ending with a smiling wizened, murderous pensioner, the clearly fake bright red blood, and Sutherland's hammed up death scene are laughable. Talking of hammed up, the spooky, clairvoyant sisters are masters of it. I don't buy the 'modern masterpiece' narrative. Parts are excellent and Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland have a very workable chemistry. But here are a couple who have lost a child yet the grief never quite comes across. Distance and wistfulness are really all we get and their grief is unconvincing in the light of not holding their second child all the more closer, but packing him off to boarding school while they hop off to Venice in an attempt to overcome their not very convincing grief. Sutherland clutching his dead child and howling in anguish to non existent gods, and one of cinema's most convincing and erotic love scenes are why I've given it 3 stars. It is fun to watch before a trip to Venice though, and scene spot, which is what I did.