I went back and forth on this one, amici, and could have gone with Fellini's 8 1/2 (which we will screen anon), but finally decided on L'Avventura, which I've been brandishing over the series since it was first announced almost—gasp!—nine years ago. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, I won't load you up with expectations except for these broad ones.
1. The idle, beautiful, Italian rich are seen being good-looking, spending money, and putting forth little effort unrelated to the gratification of their whims and desires.
2. There is a mystery. This is not entirely tidied up by the end of the film.
3. It's long: Two hours and twenty-three minutes. This means we want to start it rolling by 7:30 so that, with the inevitable intermission for the benefit of the thimble-bladdered demographic, we can finish it by 10:30. Accordingly, if you want to get in the usual ration of noshing and witty banter, you'll want to time your arrival close to 6:00.
4. It has been said of this film that you could print an enlargement of any randomly chosen frame and hang it on your wall to the visible benefit of the room.
5. It has also been said of the film that it is excruciatingly boring.
5a. At its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival in 1960, several audience members were discovered afterward to have perished in their seats of ennui. Other, more robust viewers made loud demonstrations of disapprobation, including storming the projection booth, beating the projectionist, burning the first two reels and kicking director Michelangelo Antonioni's dog.
5b. OK, I made most of that up. Still, the initial response was really, really unfriendly. A number of influential critics and filmmakers subsequently circulated a petition expressing their warm admiration for both L'Avventura and its director.
The Società Italiana del cinematografo del punto di Adams (so rendered by an early online translation routine) meets at increasingly irregular intervals at 2662 Harrison Street in Oakland's someday to be fashionable Adams Point neighborhood. Public transit is reasonably convenient; parking availability is best described as "latent." Old hands will know that Rand assembles (if he says so himself) a lavish spread of hors d’oeuvres and finger foods equivalent in aggregate to a proper meal, and always makes at least token accommodation for them as don't devour our furred, feathered, finned or fluked friends. To this end he is always abjectly grateful when attendees tender their timely RSVPs (negative RSVPs may be omitted without violence to conscience, although they are equally appreciated), particularly when notice is given that a friend or S.O. will be coming along. This way lies intelligent portion control, and satisfaction for all.
The illustration has been appropriated from Edinburgh-based illustrator and designer Caroline Halliwell without prior permission, but with all due thanks and the hope that she will forgive its use for so narrow a social application.
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