Its plaintive, oppressive finale - a symphony of silently listening objects on a nondescript street corner in Rome, destined for a rendezvous to which none of the lovers show up - is one of the most revolutionary and rightly celebrated moments of mid-century European cinema. But L'eclisse is characterized by the same cinematic brilliance throughout: Antonioni's depiction of urban alienation insinuates itself insidiously into the doomed affair between a translator (Monica Vitti) and a stockbroker (Alain Delon). In masterfully composed tableaux, Antonioni exposes the inner emptiness of Rome's nouveau riche society and hints that a deeper restlessness lies behind the modern blasé attitude. Vittoria seems tired of love, her relationship with Piero remains superficial, more a game than a feeling. The last seven minutes bring this aesthetic of disappearance to perfection. A work of constantly growing unease, whose seismic shock Martin Scorsese described as “progress in storytelling”.

Loan of the film print with kind support of Cinecittà Luce.