This week we discussed the concept of Italian Neorealism in film, and how various correspondences of Realism, that key legacy of the 19th century in Spanish cultural history, and Neorealism (which Pavlovic names “Neorealisms” in plural) play in 20th-century Spanish film and history.
Italian Neorealism influenced the filmic and cultural production of many nations / countries during the second half of the 20th century. Despite Spain’s clear agenda of exceptionalism (a sort of Realism ex post facto), this influence took place as well; however, that event unfolded both in a kind of ‘status quo’ as well as in manners of clear dissent with the Italian model. On Monday we learned about these dynamics of influence and resistance in Spanish cinema, and we explored issues of realism, conflict, rape, honor, gender, politics, and death. We did not have the opportunity to dwell in the copious iconographic, one could say iconoclastic, ways in which Buñuel’s film Viridiana engages Realism and Neorealism in dramatic and cinematic terms (plot, character, camera planes and angles, lighting, on location shooting, and so on), too many to count in one week’s worth of discussion alone: the cross and the thorny crown, the hiding of flesh, the nunnery, virtue, matrimony, the Last Supper, Judas, death by hanging, and so on.
Write a reflection on any of these threads, or weave a couple of them to compose your own argument on the importance of neorealism in the representation of fascism and religiosity in Spanish cinema.
“Viridiana” is a very powerful film. The controversial ideas and taboos are jarring, beginning with the shock of seeing a nun’s exposed leg and continuing throughout the film with rape, blasphemy, suicide, female sexuality, and incest all in one work. The Last Supper Scene alone is shocking enough with the beggars and prostitutes making up the famous holy image of the Last Supper. Pavlovic recognizes the comparison between the beggars and the disciples as not only blasphemous but “symbolically tired to Viridiana’s own desecration.” Throughout the film, Viridiana’s honor is threatened by the near-rape by her uncle, the gaze of the audience viewing her undressed body, and finally at the end of the film with the implied incestuous menage-a-trois with her cousin and his unmarried lover. As Pavlovic argues, Banuel’s controversial work “links sexuality and perversion with religion.” “Viridiana” also expresses the conflict between modernization and tradition (or secularism vs. religion), relating to Italian Neorealism which places an emphasis on social growth and changing times in response to fascism, while reflecting the “Espanolization of Neorealism” with its dark humor and lacking sentimentality.
When fascist Italy fell following WWII, Italy was left in an extremely destitute state. Large scale film studios were a thing of the past, and the standard of living mirrored this lacking. All these feelings of angst and anxiety were also directed towards previous institutions that people once trusted, namely the government and the church.
With regards to Spanish neorealism, Spain was in a similarly dire situation following the second world war. Many institutions were questioned, such as the government, the church, and traditional gender norms. Unlike Italian neorealism, Spanish neorealism did not have the luxury of free expression, as Spain was very much under fascist rule. Nevertheless, the m.o. of neorealism was borrowed well, and through clever symbolism was still able to get its points across in a somewhat more subtle way than its Italian counterpart. Like Italian neorealism government and poverty are examined very closely under Spanish neorealism, as is the church, evidenced by the usage of the crown of thorns and numerous other icons in Viridiana. Spanish neorealism seems to emphasize gender norms and a woman’s place in society, perhaps as a backlash to the machismo attitude prevalent in fascism, evidenced by Viridiana herself questioning her (and by extension women in general) place in society. Overall, Spanish neorealism serves as a subtle rebellion against fascism, setting it apart from Italian neorealism which mostly existed merely to highlight the pitfalls of society
Through our discussion of Spanish Neorealism, I have been thinking more about the role that Neorealism plays in supporting fascistic views. Neorealist tropes that have been adopted from the Italian Neorealist tradition do not seem to me to match very well with what a fascist regime would want to portray to their people and the rest of the world. Depictions of poverty and the general people are not often used as depictions of a happy people but rather shows how the government neglects its citizens. Why would a nation be more interested in Neorealist film rather than escapist film that offers a different existence to the audience? According to Pavlovic, the Franco regime attempted to coopt Viridiana for its own uses due to its success in the Cannes Film Festival, but the sacrilegious imagery was too off-putting. Through the viewing of the film, the thing that struck me most was Bunuel’s use of the body both as a whole and as fragments, and the way the different bodies become surrogates for each other. Throughout the film, body parts become symbols for greater meaning such as the legs of the two beggars that becomes the inciting image of the dinner table getting wrecked, the vagina as camera, the Viridiana’s legs even as a symbol of both her piety and her eventual fall from grace. The concept of a national body that becomes corrupted over the course of the movie is interesting. Viridiana is the shy, closed off, and perfect image of a woman who gets corrupted by her uncle, the beggars she takes in, and her cousin as the film goes on. Her body is a body that belongs to the entire country and God before it belongs to her, and throughout the film her body in fragments or as a whole becomes possessed in different ways. Perhaps this is one of the ways that Neorealism benefits the fascist ideals. By portraying the image of a perfect, pious woman who gets eaten away at and loses her connection to God and dedication to the nation and the people through multiple transgressions by modernity and hedonism, the state can implant the idea that certain types of modernity are harmful.
Italian neorealism is a film movement born in the finality of WWII, during the fall of Mussolini and the allied liberation of Italy. A devastated country; both in regards to structure, social and economic suffering, was at once freed of fascist rule yet faced with a long road to recovery. What emerged in Italian cinema was stories of common hardship told via unconventional lenses and with limited means. Notable directors of the era such as Vittorio De Sica and Roberto Rosselini were trained in filmmaking by fascists, in the film school created under Mussolini, who championed the film industry during his reign. Ironically, the works produced in the neorealist style were notably anti-fascist. Neorealism would eventually find representation in Spanish cinema, yet to a much lesser degree than in Italy. Franco is the most obvious obstacle to the flourishing of neorealism in Spain, given the tendency for authoritarian governments to suppress dissenting thought and expression, and specifically Franco’s ambivalent stance on film. Luis Buñuel’s Viridiana (1961) is exemplary of neorealist film in Spain. Viridiana follows its titular character through a series of misfortunes as the whims of cruel men, while only emboldening her to live a more pious life and uphold the honor of her own womanhood. Viridiana embraces the neorealist tradition of telling stories of common people’s contemporary hardship; in this case poverty and sexism in Spain. Furthermore, elements of Buñuel’s film adopt unconventional story structures rather than conforming to the dramatic standards of Hollywood. The episodic nature of Viridian’s experiences in the film are often present as mere occurrences, rather than key plot points which motivate the continuation of the story. While Viridiana includes cause-and-effect plot points, not everything that happens to the film’s characters is necessary in the larger story; a narrative feature synonymous with neorealism. Where Viridiana seems to deviate from neorealist tropes is in its inclusion of fantastical iconography and references, such as the several biblical quotations which draw the film away from an honest telling of common, contemporary life and drift toward allegorical storytelling.
Poverty has been a constant theme in our discussions of Spanish film; Viridiana is no different. Where Viridiana departs from previous films is the pessimism with which it portrays poverty and idealism. There is no idyllic life in the countryside or hope in the communitarianism and solidarity of rural poverty, only pain and the shattering of ideals. The titular character begins with a sense of catholic mission to help those who are struggling as recompense for her belief that she caused her uncle’s death. This sense of everpresent catholic guilt is at odds with the actual events portrayed in the film. Rather than being rewarded for her kindness, Viridiana is punished. This is a biting critique of the Spanish Catholic monopoly on morality. Despite piety and submission to God, one cannot fix the rot that lies at the heart of Francoist society. There is a conflict of reality and ideals that can be used as a metaphor for Spain itself. It is a country that holds itself as a paragon of moral virtue, yet, pain and suffering persist. It is a country at war with its own idea of itself. As much as Spain wants to wear the thorny crown, it cannot bring itself to submit the truth of the cracks within its own society.