THE CANTERBURY TALES (1972)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *irony*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*

It may have been as long as fifty years since I saw all three movies in Pier Paolo Pasolini's "Trilogy of Lust." Frankly, I only remember liking one sequence from his first effort, 1971's THE DECAMERON. Nothing else stuck with me, least of all the middle entry, CANTERBURY TALES, which was VERY loosely based on the famous Chaucer anthology.

Pasolini's trilogy is well regarded by many critics, possibly because the writer-director glossed his adaptations of famous short stories with a patina of Marxist critique of authority. I'm sure I wasn't aware of the creator's pseudo-intellectualism back in The Day. I like to think that I can give any creative work a fair hearing in terms of mythicity and other concerns irrespective of the author's stated politics. But in this case, I don't think Pasolini had anything on his mind but putting a lot of sex and violence on display and then trying to shame audiences for being seduced by those physical attractions. 

There are only brief moments of metaphenomenal content here to justify my review of TALES here, none of which merit detailed commentary. Two Greek gods interfere very slightly when a sweet young thing seeks to meet her young lover despite the presence of her old blind husband. An old woman curses an official to Hell and the Devil just happens to be on hand to fulfill the curse. There's a sort of demonic bacchanale at the end, but since all of these phenomena take place in narrated stories, all qualify as "fallacious figments."

Though Pasolini shot most of TALES in England with well known English actors (as well as Pasolini's Italian regulars), he shot without sound so that he could loop in both English and Italian dialogue later. Thus, even the English actors don't appear to be speaking their own language.

I confess I'm mostly indifferent to Chaucer. I acknowledge his significance in the history of literature, but I'm not passionate about his oeuvre. That said, I can at least find some humor in his stories. From Pasolini I only get a small-minded meanness of spirit. But he put in enough sex to grab audiences at a time when cinema was experimenting with more adult content, so I suppose the director also has his place in the history of film. But compared to his much better 1967 EDIPO RE, this is just an indulgent mess made more unpleasant-- and unfunny-- by his pretensions to satirical intent.