National Bodies
Like his Academy Award-winning Cinema Paradiso
(Nuovo cinema Paradiso), Giuseppe Tornatore's new
film, Malèna, dwells in a nostalgia for the past,
and for the coming-of-age of a
single young male protagonist. Additionally, both
films are set against the backdrop of the end of World
War II, and focus on the young hero's maturation and
subsequent loss of innocence. Though the war occupies
a more prominent thematic position in Malèna,
Tornatore's suggestion in both films is clear there
is no innocence possible, individually or culturally,
after Mussolini, fascism, and the Holocaust. Indeed.
As Theodor Adorno declared years ago, "Poetry after
Auschwitz is barbaric."
Cinema Paradiso's major failure is that, while it
raises the specter of post-war social and cultural
transformations in Italy, it is content to wallow
self-indulgently in its protagonist's sexual failures
and naive desire to escape his past. Malèna allows
no such flight. Here the past is not dead or inert, it
always influences the future; unlike Cinema Paradiso, this film recognizes the futility of its
own nostalgia. Furthermore, the rather treacly love
story between Renato (Giuseppe Sulfaro) and the war
widow Malèna (Monica Bellucci) isn't "merely"
commentary on a boy's sexual awakening and his first
impossible/unrequited passion. Renato and Malèna
represent traditional Italian social and gender
relations, as well as the political and cultural
effects of Il Duce's dictatorship. The success of
Malèna lies in how both Renato and Malèna's bodies
and stories become national bodies and national
stories, and in its negotiation of a delusional
nostalgia for an Edenic, pre-Mussolini Italy in a
post-Auschwitz world.
The film takes place in the small Sicilian village of
Castelcuto around 1941, and we follow 12-year-old
Renato's obsession with Malèna. She is left alone,
with only her aged father for family, when her new
husband Nino (Gaetano Aronico) goes off to war. As
Renato's fascination with Malèna grows, we watch him
engage in a series of rather predictable youthful
shenanigans (which are nonetheless entertaining),
including stealing a pair of her panties from the
laundry line, masturbating incessantly, and causing
his conservative Catholic family much consternation.
Recalling Tornatore's previous work, Renato's
masturbatorial fantasies cast him and Malèna in the
roles of classic Hollywood romances Tarzan and
Malèna, Cowboy Renato saves Malèna from savage
Indians, and Gladiator Renato proves his worth to the
Empress Malèna. In these images come the first
suggestion that nostalgia is untenable: while these
cinematic romances point out the unattainability of
any relationship between Renato and Malèna, they also
belie the realities of the decidedly non-idyllic
relationships Renato observes around him. In the end,
Renato cannot save Malèna from any of the tragedies
that befall her.
Isolated and beautiful, Malèna soon becomes the object
of every male's sexual fantasy and the scorn of every
local woman, all of whom seemingly exist only to
spread rumors about Malèna's sexual habits. Each time
she walks through the piazza, Malèna is met with
lecherous stares and catcalls from the men, and stony
glares and hand-covered whispers by the women. After
she receives word of her husband's death and her
father is killed during an Allied bombing of Sicily,
Malèna finds that she, literally, has nowhere to turn.
With no one to protect her virtue, Malèna is a target
for sexual predations. After the smitten dentist
Cusimano (Pippo Providenti) is caught lurking around
her house, much to his wife's outrage, Malèna must
prove in court that she is not guilty of "indecent
behavior," or face two years in prison. This
ham-handed commentary on the place of women in
traditional Catholic Sicilian society (it's a
virgin/whore thing, you know) is one of the film's
major shortcomings. The second is that while Renato
comes out of the war and his obsession without a
scratch, Malèna is repeatedly exploited and abused; as
usual, the miseries of the world are seemingly best
"understood" (by whom, I wonder) through the
debasement of women.
Also victimized by a local merchant who offers her
rationed sugar, coffee, and other foodstuffs in
exchange for sexual favors, Malèna soon sees that
prostitution is the only avenue to ensure her own
survival, and she actually becomes the "whore" about
whom all the tongues have been wagging. What the film
never really attends to, despite the lengths taken to
show how "chaste" Malèna is contrary to village
gossip, is how she so easily comes to this decision.
But this is also where Malèna is transformed into
political allegory, which is perhaps the only reason
for her expeditious transformation. Malèna prostitutes
herself not to the local men who so desire her, but to
the German officers who occupy the town, just as, the
film is suggesting, Il Duce prostituted Italy to
Hitler's Germany. Now that Malèna's body and story
have become the stuff of national symbolics, her fate
at the hands of Castelcuto's women after the war is
anything but surprising. Once Mussolini is overthrown
and the U.S. army liberates Sicily in a
particularly gruesome scene these women drag Malèna
into the piazza, where they beat her, shave her
head, and banish her.
In the aftermath of the war, the integrity of the
nation must be reasserted, and this is effected on the
local, Castelcuto level by abjecting the compromised
body of Malèna. That is, her body and her life are a
past that must be forgotten/gotten rid of. The film
continues to demonstrate how the villagers attempt to
rewrite history as well as their own roles in that
history and how local knowledges are thus
transformed into official knowledges. We overhear a
local businessman
talking about Malèna's whereabouts, and he muses that
she is probably a "Commie" and has gone
to the Soviet Union. According to this logic, Italy's
cozying up to Nazism can only be forgotten by focusing
on a new enemy, and behaving as if the "Commies" are
and always have been the antithesis of everything
Italy stands for. This man, of course, was also the
leader of the local fascist cadre during the war, a
role he quickly repudiates when asked if his new party
line doesn't contradict his previous political role in
the village.
For all the townsfolk's various attempts to erase or
forget their own roles in the war, in the end Malèna
returns to Castelcuto and becomes a constant physical
reminder of the past, its continuity, and presence in
today. Malèna's presence repeatedly challenges the
nostalgia for an "innocent" past that infuses the
population of post-war Castelcuto. The past is never
simply past; this is the "lesson" that Renato learns.
And while Malèna at first seems to be about one
boy's sexual awakening, on a much broader level, it is
about his and Italy's and "our" coming into
historical consciousness, our awakening to the
vicissitudes and legacies of the past and how they
influence bodies and histories, both individual and
national.