Il deserto rosso (Red Desert) was Antonioni's first film made in color. Desert is a forceful (if at times melodramatic) audiovisual treatise on loneliness and alienation in the post-industrial world. Antonioni seems to argue that all of the automation in daily life only serves to drive us further from our humanity. I took the film to imply that technology does not merely refer to the machines we build, but the routines that we construct mentally.
That said, the movie is not the best showcase of the talents of Antonioni muse Monica Vitti (the Anna Karina to his Godard) or Richard Harris. Unless you've known someone who suffers from delusional episodes, Vitti's performance unfortunately comes off as amateurish or simplistic. On the contrary, I think that's why it works so well. Harris' voice is dubbed in the film, which removes a large portion of what he actually put into the performance. He also notoriously quarreled with Antonioni on the set, and one can't help but feel certain that this actor-toward-director hatred didn't result in something of a "10%" effort. The kid that plays Vitti's son is a brat on par with those found in Ozu's I Was Born, But....
As I said a few weeks ago, Criterion's Blu-ray of Desert, which I watched late last week, is rich with texture and nuanced color. In particular, the details of intricate fabrics contrasts the solid, cold metal that surrounds the cast in many scenes.
The reddish-yellow streak that runs for the briefest couple of seconds is gone as soon as it had appears. I still haven't confirmed the source of this flaw or the reason that it is seen here (or, for that matter, whether it's present in the BFI Blu-ray in Region B). If I can get a concrete answer, I'll update this post. The transfer is otherwise visually flawless, evoking a pristine 35mm print (though I've never seen one of this film myself). This makes me hunger for Blu-rays of L'avventura, La notte, and L'eclisse.
Those three Antonioni pictures preceded Red Desert in what is commonly referred to as his "alienation trilogy", to which Desert is a coda. Though there's something to be gained by seeing preceding movies in a series, none of these four share continuity. That makes it easy to jump right in with this film, even without seeing any Antonioni films whatsoever.
Criterion has prepared something of a feast of extras for such a spare film. The commentary with Italian film expert David Forgacs was previously on the BFI disc. The half hour or so I've listened to is certainly up to the Criterion standard of informative relevance. Buttressing that are archival French TV interviews with Antonioni (from 1964) and Vitti (from 1990). Antonioni's is focused on this film specifically, but Vitti's is more about her life and work in general, with the majority of the time spent discussing L'Avventura.
The big news for Antonioni devotees is that two of his documentary shorts (Gente del Po and N.U.) are included in addition to almost half an hour of unused dailies from Red Desert. The documentary shorts aren't simply thrown in for the hell of it. They thematically tie into the environmental alienation found in Red Desert. The trailer is included, as usual, and the subtitles read a bit more fluidly than the last time I watched the movie.
As good as the accompanying booklets usually are, I particularly like the inclusion of a rather lengthy Antonioni interview conducted by Godard for Cahiers du cinema. Antonioni's own writing about Gente del Po and N.U. gives richer context to them both. The "expert" essay by Sight & Sound contributor Mark Le Fanu ain't too shabby either.
I've seen a lot of grumbling about the cover art, and as with most arguments about design, it'll never end. I like it just fine, as it evokes the bookends on the film, which stick with me more than the famous scene in the "red room" seen on the cover of the UK disc. Amazon is selling the Blu-ray for $29.49 at the time of this writing.