Secret History, Secret Tombs
Arabian Nights (1974)
directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
watched instantly on Netflix
It's probably impossible to separate a movie like Arabian Nights from Pasolini's political interests, as it's my understanding that politics were his chief artistic preoccupation. But insofar as a moral exists, it is a simplistic one, filtered through a courtly indifference to the will of the individual, subverted by sumptuous, languid pleasure above all else. Sex - acquiescence, denial - is the same as love, and lovers stumble towards their hearts' desires blindly (even by the relaxed standards of ancient erotic fiction). Women are raped, men are castrated, but the fantastic torpor in the air makes the act a game played for the amusement of kings.
The best reason to see it, though, is its locations. Yemen, Iraq, Ethiopia, and Nepal: Africa, the Near East, and the Far East as an Arabian continent of the mind. If nothing else, Pasolini connects the dots between the average travel documentary's slightly leering intentions and actual pornography, though the amateur actors at play beneath palm trees and in the dark of cool rooms show nothing on their faces but bemusement. If, as one character claims, the whole truth is never revealed in one dream, but many, then this fragmented 2,500 mile tale is a lovely but inadequate piece of the puzzle.
directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
watched instantly on Netflix
It's probably impossible to separate a movie like Arabian Nights from Pasolini's political interests, as it's my understanding that politics were his chief artistic preoccupation. But insofar as a moral exists, it is a simplistic one, filtered through a courtly indifference to the will of the individual, subverted by sumptuous, languid pleasure above all else. Sex - acquiescence, denial - is the same as love, and lovers stumble towards their hearts' desires blindly (even by the relaxed standards of ancient erotic fiction). Women are raped, men are castrated, but the fantastic torpor in the air makes the act a game played for the amusement of kings.
The best reason to see it, though, is its locations. Yemen, Iraq, Ethiopia, and Nepal: Africa, the Near East, and the Far East as an Arabian continent of the mind. If nothing else, Pasolini connects the dots between the average travel documentary's slightly leering intentions and actual pornography, though the amateur actors at play beneath palm trees and in the dark of cool rooms show nothing on their faces but bemusement. If, as one character claims, the whole truth is never revealed in one dream, but many, then this fragmented 2,500 mile tale is a lovely but inadequate piece of the puzzle.
posted by NPK at 6:06 AM
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