Stealing Beauty

Bernardo Bertolucci – 1996 – Italy

Coming from the auteur behind The Conformist (1970) and Last Tango in Paris (1972), 1996’s Stealing Beauty – marketed as a frothy star-vehicle for ingénue Liv Tyler – was met with jeers by serious critics or simply ignored.  That’s mainly why I hadn’t bothered to see it until now; though I should have learned my lesson when it comes to listening to critics.  Sure, my eyes were ready to start a-rollin’ during the opening credits, a travelogue sequence depicting Tyler flitting about in various depots and train cars, all backed by a very 90s alt-rock record.  However, at literally the moment when the credits end, Bertolucci drastically shifts gears and brings everything to a calm stroll, perfectly replicating the heroine Lucy’s transition from the hectic life of an American teenager to being deposited alone in the Italian countryside.  The bustle of the trains is suddenly replaced by the sleepy tranquility of the golden landscape of rural Tuscany.  After walking the dirt path towards her hosts’ villa, Lucy finds everyone napping in the sun surrounded by curious wooden sculptures.  These are her late mother’s friends, and Lucy visited once before in her youth, during which time she developed a crush on one of the local boys with whom she’s hoping to reunite.  She has reason to believe that her biological father lives on the estate too.  Self-conscious at still being a virgin at the age of 19, Lucy is sensitive to the casual sensuality of this environment and the people in it, who spend their days lounging about sipping wine, swimming nude, and having sex in their rooms with the doors and windows wide open.  It’s a stimulating world intellectually as well as physically; with music, art and poetry always involved in social gatherings.  Lucy learns that the boy she admired years before is gay in adulthood, and after a brief bout of depression, she is flattered to realize there is no shortage of other men in the area who have taken an interest in her.  Burgeoning sexuality is a frequent matter in Bertolucci’s films, and sometimes it’s a little too coarse for my taste, but here he seems to be in a reflective and romantic mood.  I loved the leisurely pace of the film, its sumptuous locations and sets, and its episodic plot, which, through a series of conversations and gatherings, builds to nothing more momentous than Lucy becoming available for her first sexual experience, which happens naturally and movingly, without any angst or melodrama.  The excellent cast includes Sinead Cusack, Jeremy Irons, Rachel Weisz, Joseph Fiennes, and Jean Marais in one of his last roles.