Medea

Medea is an extraordinary film which some will find difficult. Telling the story of Jason and his quest for the Golden Fleece, this is not the stuff of Ray Harryhausen. Meeting the priestess of the Fleece, Medea, he falls in love with her and takes her home. Years later, after bearing him sons, she exacts a terrible revenge after he spurns her for a new love. Medea is also extraordinary in exhibiting Pasolini's demonstration of contrasts in plot development and framing. In the sequence in which we are introduced to Medea, we witness the mesmeric nature of a human sacrifice, which changes from the ecstatic to the horrific within the same sequence. This motif recurs throughout the film, and has prompted admiration from French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, who mentions Pasolini in his treatise on the movement-image. Filmed with a mixture of professional and non-professional actors, Medea is a challenging and refreshing change from the usual, as it builds up to a frightening climax in an unconventional way. Often shown in 'World Cinema' slots late at night, it's a film worth staying up for, or recording, for those seeking an alternative to Hollywood pap.

This version of Medea, overall quite excellent, captures interesting aspects of the original piece. Familiarity with the story is necessary, though, and Passolini's story picks up a bit earlier than Euripides'. He runs through a stream of largely non-verbal sequences that establish a strong sense of place and emotional element that carry through the film. Classicists will enjoy the visual presentation of Iolkis, Chalkis, and their inhabitants -- though I still find it puzzling why the Argo is presented as little more than a raft; perhaps the budget was squandered on making a believable Centaur. Nonetheless, this film captures the mystical, religious, and passionate elements of Euripides' vision, and is highly recommended.

To win the kingdom his uncle took from his father, Jason must steal the golden fleece from the land of barbarians...

When the film opened up and we had the glimpse of a filthy centaur, I was pretty much sold that this film was going to be good, or at least unforgettable. The remainder may not have had as much magic, but it did not disappoint in originality... and cannibalism.

Typically when I think of Italian mythology films, I think of the "sword and sandal" films. This is not one of those. Rather than make the story all romantic and flashy, we get a world that is probably much closer to reality. Assuming that the event told in myth are many, many years BCE, it makes sense to show a much more primitive world than we expect. And in that sense, this film does not disappoint.

I first saw Medea in college and was highly critical of it, finding it disappointing on almost all counts: terrible sound editing, cheap film stock, over bright lighting, bizarre, amateurish acting styles, inadequately edited, etc. Then there was the extended murder scene of Glauce and Creon going seemingly on forever, and then . . . wait; what's this? It's repeated all over again? Did someone get the wrong reel into the house?

Another ten years went by before I watched it again and after the second viewing, found myself emotionally drained, my jaw on the floor with the realization that I'd just finished a film that alternately horrified, fascinated and astonished me.

Medea is a grim, violent, film, minimally processed which only adds to its gruesome, wild rawness. This is Pasolini's Medea, not Euripedes and it is not easy viewing. Its wild, African/Middle Eastern score with the nasal bleating of women's voices in near pre-historic sounding rhythmic chant adds further to the element of being "out there" this film produces: This is about as far away from popular cinema as one can get. Medea doesn't easily compare to films of any other style or genre; not even with some of Pasolini's other work. But, if you can succumb to its hypnotic, mesmerizing pace at once both frenetic and static - you will realize this is as about as close to a hallucinatory experience one can achieve without the use of an illegal substance. Granted, not everyone wants that experience.

As Medea, Callas is simply amazing. Oddly, when the film came out she was roundly criticized for not being able to transfer the magic she so naturally gave on stage to the big screen. I will strongly disagree. The more I watch this film (which is probably several times a year for well over a decade), the more amazed I am by her performance in it. Where I, too, had first been critical of her languid weirdness, I've grown to see her commitment to the role. I've come to be riveted to her painfully expressive mask as she completely inhabits this character who is, quite literally, capable of everything (yes - everything is the right word here).

Where I was once critical of the lighting, I've grown up to realize what Pasolini did; why he chose to film at the times of day he chose, and the resulting, fascinatingly brutal and surreal luminosity that bathes the entire film and the almost palpable sense of its visual texture. Stunning. The landscapes Pasolini chose to film in are as brutal and as vital as the characters of the tale. His near excision of all spoken text ( the screenplay is nearly dialogue free) brings us into a timeless, yet somehow ancient world where all is understood without the use of verbal communication. The savage, bloody rites of sacrifices for fertility and harvest initially seem barbarous then become somehow beautiful and fascinating. Then they make one cringe with the realization of how, not so long ago, this was us.

A remarkable, savage and beautiful film.

I love Pasolini, and Medea is easily the weakest of his works that I've seen. After having made the brilliant adaptation of the Greek tragedy Oedipus Rex, Medea seems rather uninspired. It retains most of Pasolini's beautiful settings, but the script is a poor adaptation of Euripides' play. The film's as slow as they come, and to me it seemed like a way to cover up the lack of ideas. Maria Callas is excellent as Medea, but she really doesn't have that much screen time, if you measure it. Most of the film is made up of people performing weird rituals, and the characters of Jason and Medea don't do all that much. I don't like Pasolini's interpretation of Jason as a chauvanist, egotistical jerk. It's too simplistic, and it's unfair moralizing from a modern vantage point. The character has much more depth in the various myths, even in Euripides' play. Medea's depth is sapped, as well, and her motivation in the film is sketchy at best. And then there are a couple of confusing ellipses, especially an extended fantasy sequence (apparently) where Medea imagines killing Glauce and Creon, followed by the reality. It feels more like there were two versions of this section, and the editor screwed up and left both in. Pasolini's direction is often amazing, as is the cinematography and music. I didn't hate Medea, but I can't muster any enthusiasm for it. 6/10.