Mean Streets

If you play with fire, you're going to get burned

Martin Scorcese's Mean Streets is about a young man's struggle between religion and culture. On the one hand, Charlie (Harvey Keitel) is on the rise in the ranks of the Italian mafia: collecting debts and building a reputation so that he may one day start his own business. On the other, he is a religious man trying to atone for his sins. But, as the audience learn from the opening lines of the film,

"You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it." 

The fact that this is a voice over, with Scorcese speaking on Charlie's behalf, is said to imply, "the director's identification with his character, whose religious attitudes and ambivalences he shares." (Gangster Priest, page 182/183)

Throughout the film, Scorcese uses fire to symbolize the inner conflict that Charlie is experiencing. He is often seen putting his finger to matches and flames insisting he is trying to learn a trick. During a bar fight, a table is overturned with a candle on it and when it is righted the candle has gone out. Towards the end of the film, Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro) uses a lighter to burn a ten dollar bill, a bill that wasn't good enough for loan shark Michael to accept as payback. Fire is constantly seen in conflict-filled scenes, particularly when Charlie is being forced to choose between morality (helping Johnny Boy) and convenience (going along with the mafia). Overall, this implies his struggle between his religious beliefs and Italian-American cultural expectations. In Italian and Irish Filmmakers, Lordeaux describes it as, "confronting social chaos with religion" (page 221).

Mean Streets is the third in a trilogy of Scorcese films exploring Italian American culture and religion. Although the main characters are different, there are certain continuations that can be noted. For example, the song at the end of Who's That Knocking At My Door? is in the opening credits of Mean Streets (Be My Baby by the Ronettes). In both of these films, the choice of music was very important to the audiences interpretations of the unfolding scenes. Both films have violent and rowdy scenes with the young Italian men fighting and playing with guns. These scenes are accompanied by incongruous music: rock and roll hits or latin beats that would be more appropriate for dancing and having a good time. The choice of music practically ridicules the young men and their violence. Rather than representing powerful masculinity, the characters are reduced to immature adolescents. This represents Scorcese's feelings on Italian American culture.

Another pattern in the trilogy is the female character. Teresa from Mean Streets (like her counterpart in Knocking) is ostracized from the community. In this case, it is her epilespy that separates her, because Charlie's uncle and local mafia boss, Giovanni, sees it as a mental illness and urges Charlie to stay away from her. We feel Charlie will eventually have to choose between loving her or satisfying his uncle. This choice represents what has become Scorcese's classic Italian-American dilemna: individuality and freedom or culture and security. By the end of the film, we get a sense that culture has won. The three rebels (Charlie, Teresa, and Johnny) who are trying to break free from their cultural chains are shot by the loan shark and crash their car. All survive, but as Charlie is escorted to an ambulance, we see a distinct look of defeat.

At the crash site, we notice a pipe has exploded and water is shooting into the sky. Water beats fire.

Who's That Knocking At My Door?

Does culture govern identity?

Scorcese poses this question to the audience in Who's That Knocking At My Door.

In making this film, Scorcese was influenced heavily by his Italian-American heritage, his childhood in New York, and the broader cultural movements of the era, such as the White Ethnic Revival (Cavallero, page 48).

Growing up in a tight-knit ethnic community and a heavy Roman Catholic presence, Scorcese began to examine the effects they had on his identity. Knocking is allegedly the second film in a trilogy of films (ultimately ending with Mean Streets in 1973) that uses the protagonist, J.R. (Harvey Keitel) as Scorcese's alter ego (Casillo, page 132).

J.R.'s character can be described as la bella figura, a young man struggling with his identity, particularly in terms of masculinity. He seems to cling to adolescence, demonstrating his immaturity and misogynistic view of women. We also see the influence of Catholicism and it's overemphasis on suffering, which perhaps leads to J.R. exaggerating adolescent confusion for adult trauma. For example, in the scene in the church, the audience expect to see J.R.'s spiritual connection with his faith, however do to the incongruous rock and roll music, we instead detect an inconsitency with J.R.'s identity and the religion he clings to through his ethnic roots.

Equally disconcerting is the slow motion scene with J.R's rowdy and rambunctious crew, which culminates in one friend being dragged across the room with a gun in his face as the others, including J.R., scamper off. Scorcese's choice of music is particularly interesting here. Although the lively Cuban music contrasts heavily with the scene, I would argue that it adds significantly to the audience's understanding. The music is energetic, masculine, and entertaining, which describes the scene perfectly even though the actual song seems out of place. Since there is no dialogue, we rely on the music to help illustrate the mood of the party. The men are drinking, smoking, and everyone is laughing. 

Then, a gun is pulled out and waved around at the men who are still laughing and pointing back as though they too are holding guns. Suddenly, things get a little out of control. A man is yanked around aggressively with the gun in his face, and we start to worry that someone might get shot. Yet, Scorcese's Cuban music continues to play, helping the audience to recognize that everything is a game to these boys. None of the characters show any hint of responsibility or maturity; no one protests or tries to help. At this point, J.R. has completely succumbed to this cultural stereotype of trivialized violence, as he dashes out of the room with his group. This leads the audience to believe that culture does indeed govern identity. But if that is not enough, there is another aspect to consider.

Throughout the film, we notice closing doors, turning locks, and shutting windows. For example, Scorcese will show the windows being shut, then cut to J.R., then show the same windows shutting again. Another example is the Cuban music scene, as previously mentioned, where you see several different takes of J.R. leaving the room, shown one after the other. In my opinion, these deja-vu-like repetitions create a sense of alternate realities, as though things could have happened differently...but didn't. Scorcese's repetition of shots playing out the same way each time, perhaps suggest that we cannot escape fate; our fate is decided in our cultural identity, and our individuality is not strong enough to deviate from it.


References
Cavallero, Hollywood's Italian American Filmmakers
Casillo, Gangster Priest

La Notte

 La Notte is the story of Giovanni and Lidia, a couple whose marriage rapidly disintegrates over the course of 24 hours. Giovanni is a handsome, intelligent, successful author played by Marcello Mastroianni, and, just like in Fellini’s 8 ½, represents “the Latin Lover.” Lidia (Jeanne Moreau) is the typical Latin Lover wife, a woman who tries to “rebel against, but ultimately succumbs to, his whip.” (page 334). Meanwhile, Valentina (Monica Vitti) is the beauty that catches Giovanni’s eye and forces him into his usual pattern of infidelity. In keeping with L’Avventura, Antonioni’s previous film, Monica Vitti, is not a main character at the beginning of the film, but by the end is clearly dominant. Though Giovanni tries to convince Lidia that he still loves her, she has already fallen out of love with him and so the marriage dies in a dusty sand dune.

One of the main themes in Antonioni's, La Notte, is mirror images. One of the very first images we are presented with is a reflection of Milan. The fact that the camera is descending down a skyscraper rather than ascending up it, suggests decay, as if the building is being deconstructed. This reflects the decaying marriage of Giovanni and Lidia. Furthermore, Antonioni may be implying his views on modernism since Milan represents a fast paced, industrial city. He may feel that the city reflects a cultural need to create progress and yet the deconstructed skyscraper may be interpreted as a loss of progress. Therefore, perhaps modernism is a forward movement with a backwards outcome; a movement towards destruction. The more we try to innovate, improve, and advance, the more we devastate.

Milan as the reflection of  modernism

A second example of the mirror image theme is the relationship between Giovanni and his good friend Tomaso. Tomaso may be Gioavanni’s alter ego: a physical reflection of Giovanni’s psychological struggle. Lying in the hospital, Tomaso is struggling with death, while Giovanni is struggling to live. He seems out of touch with his writing (similar to his directing in 8 ½) and he is also out of touch with his wife Lidia. So, while Tomaso is deteriorating physically, Giovanni is weakening mentally as an individual, and as one half of a marriage.

Tomaso as the reflection of Giovanni's struggle

A third example is Valentina, who Antonioni introduces with mirror play as seen in the image below. Not only is there a reflection in the window, but as Giovanni pursues her, we discover she may actually be his mirror image. She is the mirror image of Giovanni in a way a wife never could be; The closer he gets to obtaining her, the closer he gets to his own reflection in the mirror, which requires a closer reflection of himself and his choices. It seems he will never actually be with Valentina because winning her would reflect his success as a man but his failure as a husband and this creates some sort of cognitive dissonance that he is unable to live with. Therefore, he is reduced to neither being truly in love with Lidia, nor truly in love with Valentina.

Valentina as the reflection of Giovanni's downfall

Reference

Italian Film by Marcia Landy

8 1/2

In La Dolce Vita, “Mastroianni became the dark, mysterious, and sexy Italian male,” (page 25). My first question was, how does this image change in Fellini’s 8 1/2? I feel that on many levels it doesn’t. Mastroianni's character, Guido, continues to possess several characteristics of the Latin lover, which were carried over from his role in La Dolce Vita. For example, his fashionable costumes still mark him as an elegant “Don Juan.” This represents the Italian aspect of the Latin Lover, as opposed to the Latin American version, which is usually embodied by lower class characters (think West Side Story). Particularly notable are Guido's retro sunglasses, which he often wears to conceal his thoughts, such as when his wife, Luisa, is interrogating him about his mistress Carla. Moreover, it is the many women in Guido's life that exemplify him as the Latin lover. In the flashback/dream sequence where Guido is in the house with all the women, at one point they all turn on him, intending to shame him for his many affairs, but in the end they seem to give up. The fact that women surround him may automatically make him appear to be “a dandy,” even though he seems to deny it.

At the same time, Guido is also seen as an “Inetto,” (page 39). This is another side to the Latin lover: a "schlemiel," an inept character characterized by his failures. Fellini uses this as another way to create emotional conflict for the audience. Despite our dislike for Guido's infidelity, we still want him feel sorry for his struggles and hope to see a change in the course of the film. We hope to see him settle down with one woman, possibly the beautiful Claudia, who he seems quite taken with toward the end of the film. However, in true Fellini style, Guido is the anti-hero, and the audience is given no such satisfaction of seeing him triumph. Instead, the film ends with a gun, and all the characters dancing, holding hands, and wearing white.

The variety of roles that the men and women take on, particularly the unfaithful characters, are a perfect example of how 8 1/2 stands out from other films of its time. Fellini pushes the limits of what were acceptable character roles and relationships at the time. 8 1/2 was released in 1963, a new age for Italy full of new possibilities. However, during the fascist regime and Mussolini's rise to power, few Italian films were being produced; many more were imported from the United States. Those that made it to the screen were heavily edited so that all content was in line with current political propaganda. 8 1/2 did not suffer from this, and so Fellini had free reign over creativity.

Still, there are certain aspects of the film that reveal Fellini's political agenda. I believe he found ways to poke fun at Italy’s recently overthrown political system, for example through his use of architecture in the film. According to Reich, “Italy has been seen – and has seen itself – as a backward as opposed to a modern nation.” (Page 26) In my opinion, Fellini's use of architecture reflects Italy's lack of modernity. I believe he intentionally portrayed the Italian political environment as a decaying system through his use of ancient statues surrounding the gardens, as well as the crumbling ruins seen in the background of Guido’s dreams of his mother and father.

Furthermore, the architecture contrasts with the elegantly dressed characters, who strolled around their spa facility. Fellini's use of wartime orchestral pieces, such as Flight of the Valkyries, heavily contrasts with the fragile, relaxed patients walking around the grounds, and instead of a relaxing spa, it felt more like a mental hospital or asylum. I felt that this may have been Fellini's way of making fun of the upper class who inhabited the spa/hospital by portraying them as insane.

Although these interpretation may not be shared by others, at the very least they imply the confusion the audience feels while watching the film, not only from the strange soundtrack, but also the scenes of flashbacks and dreams. In the same way that the viewer is not always able to discern reality scenes from dream scenes, Guido seems to be stuck between the two as well. Overall, 8 1/2 may be summed up as one man's struggle between his personal life and his professional life. It is up to us to decide which one is the dream world, and which one is real.

References

Jacqueline Reich, Beyond the Latin Lover

Carlo Celli and Marga Cottino-Jones, A New Guide to Italian Cinema