Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #58185 in DVD
• Released on: 2002-11-26
• Rating: NR (Not Rated)
• Aspect ratio: 1.78:1
• Formats: Closed-captioned, Color, DVD, NTSC
• Original language: Italian
• Subtitled in: English
• Dubbed in: Italian
• Number of discs: 1
• Running time: 110 minutes

Amazon.com
The only movie made by Maria Callas, Medea nevertheless contains not a note of the great diva singing. And yet her presence is stunning, with a face (often seen in close-up) that cuts across the frame like a great phenomenon of nature. This raw, mostly wordless take on the Greek classic is a characteristic film from the influential Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini: intellectually sophisticated yet almost primitive in its feel. The weird, jagged locations and Pasolini's elliptical style contribute to the sense of violence already in the story, and the visual approach (realized by Gangs of New York production designer Dante Ferretti) brings in African masks and pagan rituals. If it's not quite satisfying as a treatment of the original Euripides play, it succeeds as a blunt experience in its own right. And tantalizingly suggests what Callas might have done had she opted for a movie career. --Robert Horton

From the Back Cover
Based on the Greek classic by Euripides, Pasolini's Medea tells the tale of Jason, the leader of the invincible army of Argonaut, and his quest for the Golden Fleece. Meeting the priestess of the Flees, Medea (Callas), Jason falls in love with her and takes her home as she sacrifices everything to be with him, including dismembering her own brother. Years later he spurns her for a new love, the young and beautiful Glauce. Medea, using her witch-craft powers, exacts a terrible revenge upon Jason leading to a terrifying climax where loyalty and betrayal are tried before the altar of human sacrifice. With his classic, haunting, cinematic beauty; capturing the mythic qualities of the original Greek play, Pasolini tackle sexuality, love and desire at the dawn of Christianity showing the people of the Mediterranean as conflict-ripe melting pot of racial and cultural diversity

Customer Reviews

MEDEA, one of Pasolini's greatest films, finally on DVD
Pasolini has the dubious distinction of being the only great filmmaker who was murdered, possibly at the behest of a right-wing faction which loathed the openly gay, Marxist, atheist - and popular - artist. Whatever the facts of his death, his reputation as one of Italy's greatest talents is based securely on his poetry, novels, works of critical theory and, in particular, the 25 films he directed. They include such stylistically diverse works as Accatone (1961; adapted from his own novel about life in the slums of modern Rome), The Gospel According to Matthew (1964; a beautiful, moving film about Christ), a stunning version of the Arabian Nights (1974), and his last film, the most nauseating masterpiece I have ever seen, Salò (1975; the Marquis de Sade's 1780s novel updated to Mussolini's Fascist Italy). But Pasolini's most underrated film is his startling version of Medea (1969). Its recent release on DVD (from Vanguard-Cinema) makes this is an opportune time to revisit the ultimate incarnation of the adage, Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.

Pasolini takes a unique approach to Medea. He jettisons all but a few lines of Euripides, and begins the narrative many years before the action of the play. Most strikingly, he shoots almost the entire film in a documentary-like style. And, with a couple of notable exceptions, he creates a picture with almost no dialogue, although the soundtrack features an astonishing musical score (put together by Pasolini) of native North African wind and percussion music (20 years before Peter Gabriel's score for Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ, which was clearly inspired by Pasolini). If that was not enough to offend purists, in the title role he cast perhaps the most famous opera diva of the century, Maria Callas, in her only film appearance, and then gave her almost no lines (and the few she had were dubbed). Perhaps if audiences had known a bit more about what to expect from the film, they would have seen what was on the screen, instead of what Pasolini consciously - and often brilliantly - stripped away from his sources.

He opens with a witty prologue in which an unforgettable Centaur lectures baby Jason about his mythical lineage. So many gods and goddesses are mentioned in this breathless monologue, that the overwhelmed kid falls over backwards, sound asleep. (There is perhaps as much dialogue in these first three minutes as in the rest of the film.) Then Pasolini plunges us into Medea's world. In one of the film's most astonishing sequences, we witness, and feel, every moment of the ritual sacrifice of a young man, whose blood the people of Colchis smear over the plants and trees, to ensure the continued fertility of their land. Pasolini's artistry makes this event as poetic and authentic (indigenous North Africans, not extras from Central Casting, enact the Colchians) as it is gruesome. You may have read about such ancient rites in anthropology, but Pasolini depicts it unflinchingly. And he shows us, in visceral terms, exactly what kind of world produced Medea, whose revenge will be enacted years later on her faithless husband.

Throughout, Pasolini invests every shot with a haunting, ripely sensuous look, almost always grounded in a cinéma vérité style. The film literally glows like burnished bronze, with many shots done at the "magic hour," just before sunset, which naturally provides an orange/gold sheen. The major stylistic exception is the scenes in the court of King Creon (played by Massimo Girotti, star of Visconti's 1941 film Ossessione), where Pasolini drolly mimics Eisenstein's expressionistic designs from that masterpiece of political intrigue, Ivan the Terrible (1943-1946).

Much of Medea's enormous power comes from the naturalistic performances, ranging from the leads to the many minor characters. This is what the Argonauts might really have been like, a group of mostly quiet young men, doing their jobs, enjoying the thrill of battle when the opportunity arises, and gawking at the strange sights of Colchis's radically foreign culture. Giuseppe Gentile creates a complex Jason whom we believe a powerful woman like Medea could fall passionately in love with, who is devoted to his children, yet who is so fickle, not to mention hungry for power, that he would throw over his wife of 10 years to marry the daughter of his enemy, King Creon, as a backhanded way of regaining his throne.

Pasolini draws a monumental performance from Maria Callas, who uses her few lines of dialogue to great effect. Simply by using her face and body, Callas suggests - with a subtlety unexpected from an opera diva - Medea's immense range of emotions, from heartbreaking tenderness to volcanic rage.

Perhaps the best way to enjoy Pasolini's Medea is to put aside thoughts of Euripides, and later versions by such dramatists as Seneca, Pierre Corneille, and Jean Anouilh, not to mention Hollywood extravaganzas like Jason and the Argonauts (whether the fun 1963 version, with Ray Harryhausen's special effects wizardry, or the bland TV mini-series from 2000). Experience Pasolini's mesmerizing film on its own starkly beautiful terms, and you will find a unique vision not only of the ancient Mediterranean, recreated with what feels like astonishing fidelity, but of the tortured interplay of love, desire, and unspeakable revenge, which can be as current as the latest crime of passion.

Barbaric, Raw and Brilliant
I first saw Medea in college and was highly critical of it, finding it disappointing on almost all counts: terrible sound editing, cheap film stock, over bright lighting, bizarre, amateurish acting styles, inadequately edited, etc. Then there was the extended murder scene of Glauce and Creon going seemingly on forever, and then . . . wait; what's this? It's repeated all over again? Did someone get the wrong reel into the house?

Another ten years went by before I watched it again and after the second viewing, found myself emotionally drained, my jaw on the floor with the realization that I'd just finished a film that alternately horrified, fascinated and astonished me.

Medea is a grim, violent, film, minimally processed which only adds to its gruesome, wild rawness. This is Pasolini's Medea, not Euripedes and it is not easy viewing. Its wild, African/Middle Eastern score with the nasal bleating of women's voices in near pre-historic sounding rhythmic chant adds further to the element of being "out there" this film produces: This is about as far away from popular cinema as one can get. Medea doesn't easily compare to films of any other style or genre; not even with some of Pasolini's other work. But, if you can succumb to its hypnotic, mesmerizing pace at once both frenetic and static - you will realize this is as about as close to a hallucinatory experience one can achieve without the use of an illegal substance. Granted, not everyone wants that experience.

As Medea, Callas is simply amazing. Oddly, when the film came out she was roundly criticized for not being able to transfer the magic she so naturally gave on stage to the big screen. I will strongly disagree. The more I watch this film (which is probably several times a year for well over a decade), the more amazed I am by her performance in it. Where I, too, had first been critical of her languid weirdness, I've grown to see her
commitment to the role. I've come to be riveted to her painfully expressive mask as she completely inhabits this character who is, quite literally, capable of everything (yes - everything is the right word here).

Where I was once critical of the lighting, I've grown up to realize what Pasolini did; why he chose to film at the times of day he chose, and the resulting, fascinatingly brutal and surreal luminosity that bathes the entire film and the almost palpable sense of its visual texture. Stunning. The landscapes Pasolini chose to film in are as brutal and as vital as the characters of the tale. His near excision of all spoken text ( the screenplay is nearly dialogue free) brings us into a timeless, yet somehow ancient world where all is understood without the use of verbal communication. The savage, bloody rites of sacrifices for fertility and harvest initially seem barbarous then become somehow beautiful and fascinating. Then they make one cringe with the realization of how, not so long ago, this was us.

A remarkable, savage and beautiful film.

An Ancient Woman
Just as Pasolini said,"I draw on the mysterious sensibilities in Maria Callas". He finds Callas to be "an ancient woman" in the sense that she is directly linked to myth and legend. With very little spoken word Callas manages to convey all the pride, rage, and black art that comprises the legend of Medea. Set against an incredibly dramatic backdrop the viewer is nearly hypnotized by this savage story of lust and power.
To the reviewer who thought that the repeated scene of the death of the king and his daughter was a technical error, watch it carefully again. Medea dreams the act of revenge first, then sets it into motion and the dream becomes reality. This is in all the films of this I have seen. It is not a mistake.