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Okay, so right out of the gate: I’ve heard the feedback from the paid folks about my weird idea to provide an extra-bonus newsletter every week during the new season of Vanderpump Rules. It makes me very happy that even the folks who have not seen the show might still want a rundown from me ironing out the latest Scheananigans and more (that reference will eventually make sense to you, by the way). That’s putting a lot of faith in me that I might be able to be your guide into this convoluted reality show hellhole and I really appreciate it.
Always rest in power, Giggy.
Again, this is something for the paid tier (sorry!) but I’m already through a semi-exhaustive FAQ about the show for the VPR newbies that I plan to publish next Friday. I’m hoping it will be a decent enough tutorial that you can jump in and read about the show without being totally confused. So be on the lookout for that!
For this week: as I briefly talked about in Tuesday’s Bonus Hang, I’ve been running through the films of the Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini again. Many of these movies I haven’t seen in over twenty years, including possibly his most famous/notorious, Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975), which cinephiles love to joke is a good first date idea. (I mean, yes that’s funny but…if you really need a quick, direct answer on the potential capability of a partner, is this not the ONLY option?!) There was a moment last week where I wondered why I’ve been suddenly interested in re-watching these movies, or just generally find myself interested in being in his orbit again. I decided it’s probably because I’m currently:
a) at a spiritual crossroads [does age suddenly make you want to go hard on processing your Catholic upbringing?]
and
b) resentful of capitalism [what happens when you have a lot of time to think about the state of corporate entertainment].
My first one was Teorema (1968) starring Terence Stamp, Silvana Mangano, and Laura Betti. If you haven’t seen it, the basics are this: a wealthy family living in Italy receives a visitor to their house one day in the form of young, hot Terence Stamp, who has no name but subsequently sleeps with every single member of the family (and their maid), unlocking levels of emotion and desire none of them have ever experienced before. If that weren’t enough, suddenly he is called away from the house and never returns. The loss makes each family member completely spin out in their own, unique ways. We never knew his name, where he came from, and we don’t know where he’s going, but in the short time he was here he gave an entire family the romantic or sexual satisfaction that they secretly wanted, and they will remain forever shooketh. If you know anything about Pasolini, there is political commentary at work here. In fact, the opening minutes of Teorema are completely different in tone than the rest of the film, feeling more like a documentary as a news reporter interviews a group of Italian workers finding out that their boss has just vanished, and as a result, given them control of their entire factory. You eventually realize that this beginning is really the end: the father of the family was the boss and gave away his property, wealth, and possessions after his encounter with “the Visitor”.
Correct!
And because we’re talking about Italians here, there’s also a Christ allegory happening, though Pasolini wavered on that upon being asked a few times. When I think about the idea of Terence Stamp healing the sick with his you-know-what (it rhymes!), it instantly reminded me of another film that dances with the Sexy Jesus metaphors maybe more directly: Jean-Pierre Melville’s Leon Morin: Priest (1961). Much like Teorema, a young, attractive man shows up to a village filled with repressed, war-torn women and hypnotizes all of them with his love for God and his pure sexual energy. While he doesn’t actually sleep with them as the Visitor does, his seduction comes in the form of one-on-one meetings in his rectory to discuss religion and philosophy and recommending books to the women (which I argue is maybe even MORE pornographic). Melville uses the exact same technique that Pasolini does to effectively communicate that an attractive person would like to cast a spell on you: eye contact, baby. Just like Terence Stamp, the young, adorable, post-Breathless (1960) Jean Paul Belmondo looks straight in the camera in a tight close-up and it will make you blush, believe that Jesus is real, or both.
I absolutely love this tiny scene towards the end of Leon Morin, which always made me think that Jean-Pierre Melville knew EXACTLY what he was doing. It really wraps up the wrecking ball-like devastation this extremely hot priest caused poor Emmanuelle Riva in a single glance. I don’t think Melville was gay (Wikipedia said he was married to the same woman for 20 years) but I commend a straight guy for knowing how to make another straight guy look extremely erotic:
I think it’s interesting that Teorema has been in the conversation lately because of Saltburn (2023), which I thought seemed like a kindred spirit at first. However, after seeing the Pasolini film again, I think they’re very different. To me Saltburn felt way less posed to comment on religion or even class warfare in any kind of profound way. I mean, yes, the family in Saltburn was also bougie and loved to sit on chairs in their front yard in glamorous outfits. And yes, there was a guy who came in and wrecked sexual shop on all of them. The desire to be liked can have destructive effects and we’re all just lining up to drink the wealthy’s bathwater, which feels like a comment on modern capitalism. But I’m nowhere near ready to compare anyone current to Pasolini in this way. Maybe Emerald Fennell just needs to go completely for the European art film jug in her next film. Some bleak, black and white Bergman shit about the sorrows of existence…with abs?
Eye contact!
A Few Other Things:
I have been on a tear of film book buying in the past few weeks (I blame school). Here are some of my favorites. I linked Amazon but I encourage local bookstores if possible, obviously!
Sixguns and Society: A Structural Study of the Western by Will Wright
The Six-Gun Mystique Sequel by John G. Calwelti [sensing a theme?]
The World in a Frame: What We See in Films by Leo Braudy
Grande Dame Guignol Cinema: A History of Hag Horror from Baby Jane to Mother by Peter Shelley
Blanche: The Life and Times of Tennessee Williams's Greatest Creation by Nancy Schoenberger
Remember when I mentioned I was working on some custom newsletter swag for those who opted in on the Founders Level when I first started? Here’s a tiny preview:
Have a nice weekend!
Millie
Films Mentioned:
Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975, Pier Paolo Pasolini
Teorema (1968, Pier Paolo Pasolini)
Leon Morin: Priest (1961, Jean-Pierre Melville)
Breathless (1960, Jean Luc Godard)
Saltburn (2023, Emerald Fennell)
Always love book recommendations!
Great contrast between Pasolini and Saltburn. I’m one of the rare people who will defend Salo when it is used as a joke, and I agree that there was far more thought with his provocative films than Fennel’s film. Agree that there’s not even a comparison. In fact Teorema reminds me of Saltburn, so I’m sure Pasolini was an influence.