A naked room, a dead old woman lies on a wooden coffin, across the coffin we see her son. His head down, his face slightly contorted. We move in to notice with a chill that he's just trying to get some dirt from under his fingernails. Mersault. Visconti's Mersault inspired by Camus's Mersault. The film was attacked in its day and the Albert Camus's purists shouted blue murder or worse, they didn't say a word. Visconti knew what he was doing. He chose Marcelo Mastroianni to play Mersault. By that choice alone he was departing from Camus's intentions and yet, if you read the book today and see the film today, Mastroianni is Camus's Mersault. It is the driest of all Visconti films. His toughest. Mastroianni gives a performance that defies description. If you've seen more than once,"XXX" by choice, I don't promise you that you'll surrender, automatically, to the power of this film, but I can assure you that both films belong to the same Universe, yours, ours. Give it a try. Then, you tell me.
