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This had been a holy grail of mine for years. You see, in the 70's a lot of films were just plain hard to see and so you heard things and it ricocheted about in your imagination for months, sometimes years building your visions and expectations up. Siskell and Ebert slammed it saying it didn't make a lot of sense, was boring and had this part where Jill Clayburgh makes love to her 18 year old son.
Like the final act of " Last Tango in Paris ," the whole of Bernardo Bertolucci's film " La Luna " is more compelling than it is emotionally coherent. With his story about a recently widowed opera singer whose attempts to wean her teenage son off heroin with his syringes perhaps serving as a stand-in for the teat lead to a fully realized sexual relationship between them, Bertolucci seems to be endeavouring to make the ultimate psychosexual statement here without having a lucid thesis in mind. The behaviours of the characters are always tantalizing and interesting, but frequently implausible, and by the end, the viewer is left with a jumble of half-baked notions about Oedipal love, motherhood, and emotional need that appears to come full-circle because the film has structural closure, but really doesn't.
Color,m. After the four-year undertaking of mounting his massive Italian epicdirector Bernardo Bertolucci took another long period of time three years before the release of his next and final film of the s, one that would cap off a trilogy of taboo-breaking films entangled in censorship issues. The least seen and most misunderstood of the three, Luna was given a substantial theatrical push around the world by 20th Century Fox and starred one of the biggest female stars of the era, Jill Clayburgh; however, despite generally positive reviews and a few howls of outragethe film vanished without a trace for decades in the United States after a handful of TV airings.
Opera singer Jill Clayburgh is sucked into a sexually charged pas de deux with her rebellious drug addict teenage son after she whisks him off to Italy following her husband's untimely death. It may be that Italian arthouse incest movies just aren't up my alley, but between this and my viewing of Viscconti's Vaghe Stella dell'Orsa [TSPDT ] I see a lot of cinematic talent stumbling to elevate the salaciousness of its subject, resulting in much incoherent hysteria. Vittorio Storaro's swirling tracking shots characteristically generate an energetic atmosphere, though their fluidness clashes with the Cassavetean awkwardness of the dysfunctional mother-son dialogues.
They won't be for much longer. In an unusual cinematic doubleheader — two major films having premieres the same week — the actress ought to forever erase her identification with Erica Benton, the resourceful heroine of the Paul Mazursky hit. Just what her new image might be, though, is hard to tell, given the dramatic contrasts between her two new roles.
American sweetheart Jill Clayburgh threw a curve ball at the height of her career in the perverse Luna She plays a recently widowed opera singer in Italy who becomes sexually involved with her year-old son. He's a heroin addict, so it's not clear whether he's up for the job.
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Long, melodramatic and brazenly symbolic, La Luna its onscreen title is a meditation on art, love, loneliness and addiction. Scene by scene, it's a seductive and dazzling essay in cinema. Caterina Silveri is played by Jill Clayburgh, giving a poised and unpredictable performance within unbalanced situations.