When the Internet started buzzing with outrage over Bernardo Bertolucci's conduct while making Last Tango in Paris this weekend, I was inclined to ignore it. For those who missed it, an interview clip from 2013 went viral showing Bertolucci discussing his treatment of actress Maria Schneider, namely that he and Marlon Brando filmed the movie's famous rape scene without her full consent or understanding of what it entailed (namely, use of butter). The story itself was odious, but it wasn't news: Schneider first discussed the issue in 2007, claiming the scene made her feel humiliated and raped; even the leaked clip dates from 2013. Yet it's just now picking up momentum, receiving angry shares and retweets from celebrities and opinion makers. Why the fuss about it years later?
So I thought, until Bertolucci decided to defend his conduct in the most tone-deaf way imaginable. He called the controversy a "ridiculous misunderstanding" and that "Maria knew everything because she had read the script, where it was all described. The only novelty was the idea of the butter." Apparently he thinks Ms. Schneider, and those expressing disgust and outrage, object only to his choice of condiment.
I've tried avoiding commenting on this year's cosmic atrocities, but this story touches on one of 2016's most depressing, odious issue: the continued minimization of rape and acceptance of misogyny. No doubt Bertolucci, an Italian Marxist, will be championed by online reactionaries, who'd rather defend a Communist's art film (ordinarily their pet hates) than admit sexual assault is real. So it goes: if you believe an amoral billionaire is the working man's savior, any mental contortion is possible.
I don't personally like Last Tango in Paris, but mine is a minority view. Pauline Kael's famous review, comparing Tango to Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring, offered merely the most hyperbolic expression of near-universal acclaim. Despite considerable controversy over its sexual content, the movie earned critical raves, an armful of awards and became a box office smash. Today it's still widely regarded as Bertolucci's masterpiece, and a cinematic milestone. Whatever my personal reservations, one must take Last Tango seriously.For those who haven't seen it, Last Tango involves Paul (Marlon Brando), an American hotelier living in Paris. His wife recently deceased, Paul initiates a fraught relationship with Jeanne (Maria Schneider), a much younger model. The two have anonymous sex without establishing deeper ties, Paul working out his gruef while Jeanne navigates her career and increasingly complicated feeling.
The scene in question ranks among cinema's most notorious. While soliloquizing about his life and misspent passion, Paul lubricates Jeanne's anus with butter before sodomizing her. It's uncomfortable watch, with Paul deliberately humiliating Jeanne while simultaneously expressing his own anguish and lack of control, sympathetic and monstrous at once. Whether you find it emotional, offensive or merely gross, it's undoubtedly powerful.
(I attempted to find an embeddable video, but YouTube isn't cooperating. Perhaps for the best! For those with the stomach, view the clip here.)
Schneider, a 19 year old actress with little film experience, landed the role of Jeanne thanks to Dominque Sanda, star of Bertolucci's The Conformist. While the scripted scene plays similar to the film, the idea of butter originated from Brando during a chat with Bertolucci. They decided not to inform Schneider beforehand, with Bertolucci hoping to elicit her reaction "as a girl, not an actress." Thus, Schneider's panic and humiliation is painfully real.There isn't any real dispute about what happened, despite complaints that media coverage spun Bertolucci's comments to imply actual, onscreen rape. Undoubtedly, Bertolucci and Brando violated Schneider's trust and coerced her into a humiliating experience. This happens so often in movies that's barely remarkable. What makes this scenario unique is that Bertolucci deliberately captures this humiliation on film; it's an indelible part of the movie, rather than incidental motivation. Therefore, can it be justified?
One consideration involves Schneider herself. While Schneider had a long and respectable career, she wrestled with her personal demons long after Tango. She refused to do nude scenes, costing her several high-profile roles (notably Caligula). She also came out as bisexual, became addicted to heroin and attempted suicide. Though she eventually turned her life around, she remained traumatized by the experience until her death in 2007.
At the time, Schneider said of Bertolucci that "everybody was digging what he was doing, and we were all very close." She'd later compare Bertolucci to "a gangster and a pimp" and that she "felt humiliated and to be honest, I felt a little raped, both by Marlon and by Bertolucci." It's not fair to blame all of Schneider's subsequent issues on the film; at the same time, however, it's clear that it left an indelible psychological footprint.
Another concerns Bertolucci. However distressing his treatment of Schneider, generous observers might classify it as the product of a less enlightened time. Marlon Brando felt remorse over the scene, telling Bertolucci "I have felt completely and utterly violated by you." In the 2013 interview, Bertolucci himself would admit that he felt guilty at putting Schneider through the experience. But in almost the next breath, Bertolucci defends his actions, saying that despite his guilt, he does not regret doing it. Elsewhere, the director commented that Schenider "wasn't mature enough to understand what was going on." Surely the same could be said of a six year old child. Interpreted most generously, it's the sort of arrogant amorality associated with artists at their most obnoxious: the ends justifying the means.
The main defenses of Bertolucci seem distressingly similar to those for Roman Polanski or Woody Allen. One involves quibbling over a very precise definition of "rape," limiting it to genital penetration and not anal lubrication. The other is the repugnant idea that, if an artist produces something like Last Tango, they're entitled to treat their actors and crew however they want. Not merely separating art from artist, but giving the artist carte blanche for atrocities ranging from mental torture to rape to shipping extras to concentration camps.
The first is semantical parsing that only matters in a legal sense. Since Bertolucci's extremely unlikely to face charges for mistreating a now-deceased woman four decades ago, I'm not interested in pursuing this argument.
I'm not defending her, either
The second perverts a reasonable argument beyond recognition. Personally, I've reviewed numerous Nazi propaganda movies, and written three essays on Leni Riefenstahl's life and work. I've penned rave reviews of Polanski movies, praised uber-jerk David O. Russell, and even defended Tom Cruise from rabid Scientology haters. Which doesn't stop me from thinking the above are, respectively, a Nazi, a rapist, a psychotic bully and a lunatic.So please, don't condescend to me with such gaseous, meretricious garbage. I'm perfectly capable of separating art from artist. There's a huge difference between enjoying a morally repugnant human's work and defending their actions. I'm not rescinding my rave review of 1900, but neither am I pretending its existence exonerates Bertolucci. And at the very least, Polanski didn't incorporate his actions into one of his movies.
With Brando and Schneider deceased and Bertolucci in semi-retirement, there's not much action likely to occur beyond internet outrage. So be it. With people defending not only Bertolucci and Polanski, but exponentially more odious figures like Bill Cosby and odious orange demagogues for similar conduct, it's important to call out both them and their defenders, whether they're rightist hypocrites or misguided cinephiles. In 2016, even baby steps towards decency make a difference.
Each person must decide how much they're willing to forgive an artist their faults for their achievements, whether they can appreciate their work in spite of their transgressions or choose to boycott it. As for myself, I'll regard Bernardo Bertolucci both as a talented, occasionally great director and a reprehensible man.
