Review of L'Eclisse (1962) by Stella D — 03 Sep 2008

The EclipseOkay, after reading my flixster buddies' comments about L'Elisse, I feel as if I must apologize in advance for what I'm about to say -- in general. Yes, I admit it, I jumped into the trilogy with La Notte, which, if you've read my comments, you know I like.

Walter, I did not give up on this one -- I stuck it out. This being said, I'm that much the older, but, I fear, not much the wiser. Off-topic. Kind of. You be the judge. Has anyone who's actually reading this, having slogged through the above mire, read Haruki Murakami's short story entitled "The Elephant Vanishes"? Well, if not, it's a story about balance, in part, and about proportion, in part, and about mystery, in part, and about individual interest -- again, in part.

And it's probably about more, but it's just a wee bit outside of "fresh in my mind." I have a small-sized memory. When an elephant suddenly disappears into proverbial thin air, what are we to think? I think some of us would think nothing.

And for sure some of us would think something. And I truly believe that some of us would explore this phenomenon to the end of time, ala Fox Mulder. If I'd have come to this third part of Antonioni's trilogy before seeing La Notte, I can pretty much guarantee you that I would not ever have seen La Notte.

The personal interest angle would be nil. But since I saw La Notte first -- the middle section of the trilogy -- I decided to check out the hind quarters, as it were, of this particular elephant. And what did I find? I found something lacking in all proportion to the middle.

Something is out of whack with this part three installment. If you are going to do a trilogy -- and I never even saw the first film, as I've already said, so I apologize -- you should look for balance.

Trust me, given my wholly biased perceived imbalance between part two and part three, I will not pursue, at my age, watching part one. Time is short, and precious. I actually learned this from watching La Notte.

Believe it. Or not. Anywaysies, as my buddy Allison might say, this particular capstone is shrunkenly lacking, compared to the middle part. No pun intended, this baby is so black-and-white that even the idea of mystery is stripped to the bone like the bleached white skeletons incorporating an elephant graveyard.

But I digress. But . . . Still, I would go on, but I hope I've already made my point. This one is very disappointing, like the way I feel when I realize that vanishing an elephant is not so simple as digging a time-worthy Shawshankian tunnel under the elephant's cage.

It's actually, perhaps, the elegant possibility of warping reality, time, and me -- the reader. But L'Eclisse hardly comes up to, hardly fulfills, that degree of possibility. I'm at the thinking-nothing-about-this-anymore stage, beginning right now as I stop typing.

But what do I know? I'm no Fox Mulder. I'm certainly not even the half shadow of a Tia Leone.