Once upon a time, Italian filmmaker Marco Bellochio’s name was uttered in the same anticipatory breath as Bertolucci’s and Pasolini’s. His first couple of films in the late Sixties, Fist in the Pocket and China Is Near brought him international attention and a controversial reputation. The subject matter of his films tends to be organized around psychosexual issues and leftist political analysis. Few of his later films have been distributed outside of Italy, with the exception of 1985’s X-rated Devil in the Flesh, which Bellochio co-scripted with his psychoanalyst Massimo Fagioli, a well-known yet highly controversial practitioner whose renegade theories caused his expulsion from the Italian Psychoanalytic Society. The Conviction revives this screenwriting partnership. The story is a minimalist “he said, she said” and the subject is rape. Underpinning the drama are Freudian and Judeo-Christian tenets that regard the nature of female sexuality as passive and only unleashed by the desire to be forcibly overpowered. Thus, the world is a place where a woman’s “no” means “yes” and a man’s responsibility is to overtake a woman. In that way, the innate sexual natures of both sexes are satisfied and, theoretically, everyone goes away happy. Well, without going into it at great length, let’s just say that there are multitudes who regard this line of thinking as — in brief — a bunch of cock ‘n’ bull. Though it does open up lines of investigation into thornier questions about the function of power — not only physical but psychological, as well — in sexual relationships and the differences between seduction and coercion. The Conviction begins as a woman (Nebout) becomes locked in a museum after-hours and, just as she is resigning herself to spending the night cooped-up, a man (Mezzogiorno) appears behind her and begins a conversation. Twice they have sex, though her attitude seemingly vacillates between consensual and non-consensual. Then, after he accuses her of non-responsiveness, she strips her clothes and invitationally lies down odalisque-fashion. Once more, they have sex and she comes to orgasm. Afterwards, she discovers he had the building keys all along. In the film’s next section, she brings him to court on rape charges. Every day, the courtroom is filled with adoring female admirers of the defendant and the course of the trial allows an airing of the philosophical ramifications of the events. The third part of the film shifts its focus to the prosecuting attorney (Seweryn), for whom the trial mirrors his sexual situation at home. All these characters are portrayed fairly one-dimensionally; the visual compositions are minimalistic, as well. This fits a morality play structure more than a drama. And, while the morality under examination is fascinating and may actually lead to some breakthrough discoveries, the assumptions guiding its path are grounded in patriarchal nonsense and cultural sandbags.
This article appears in November 18 • 1994 (Cover).
