Art film lovers would probably rank this much higher on their scale of appreciation, but I found DEATH IN VENICE, while sumptuous to look at and listen to (the music of Gustav Mahler fills the soundtrack with his symphonic music), as beautiful and empty as a multi-colored seashell. It assails the senses with sensuous shots of Tadzio's youthful beauty as seen by DIRK BOGARDE, but fails to give us a narrative strong enough to sustain over two hours of story.
Furthermore, it moves at a snail's pace while exploring the beauty of the seashore in Venice, spending far too much time on close-ups of Bogarde as he sinks deeper and deeper into despair over never possessing the creature he so desires. SYLVANA MANGANO, the great Italian actress, is fine as the boy's mother and the fair-haired Italian boy himself (BJORN ANDRESEN) is merely seen and glimpsed from afar and remains an enigma until the very end.
Based supposedly on composer Gustav Mahler's personal life (although never actually proved), it's the kind of film that could fill art houses in the '80s with high approval from the pseudo-intellectuals who claimed to have read Thomas Mann's novel and approved of the film's tasteful rendering of a difficult and, at that time, taboo subject.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder--for some, this film is a masterpiece of its kind--for others, beware the tranquility of the whole piece. It may put you in a dreamlike trance.
Furthermore, it moves at a snail's pace while exploring the beauty of the seashore in Venice, spending far too much time on close-ups of Bogarde as he sinks deeper and deeper into despair over never possessing the creature he so desires. SYLVANA MANGANO, the great Italian actress, is fine as the boy's mother and the fair-haired Italian boy himself (BJORN ANDRESEN) is merely seen and glimpsed from afar and remains an enigma until the very end.
Based supposedly on composer Gustav Mahler's personal life (although never actually proved), it's the kind of film that could fill art houses in the '80s with high approval from the pseudo-intellectuals who claimed to have read Thomas Mann's novel and approved of the film's tasteful rendering of a difficult and, at that time, taboo subject.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder--for some, this film is a masterpiece of its kind--for others, beware the tranquility of the whole piece. It may put you in a dreamlike trance.