If Thanatos takes over with war and death, we respond with eros. If our most bloody and conflictual side frightens us, we thank vitality where we can. Suppose so many films are dedicated to the conflict in the Middle East, which worries and distresses us with the traumatic images before our eyes daily. In that case, we give ground to fantasy.
Venice 81 takes care to give space to sexuality, which of eros is the most impressive expression in its most varied forms. It’s a good thing because it is, in fact, the most critical and creative part of human life. Bodies retake shape (especially after the COVID years), desire and attraction towards the other. It does not matter how or to whom the desire is directed. Attention is paid to the naked truth of the human mind and the broader facets of the world of sexual fantasies. Even if they trespass into the unspeakable, according to the alleged dictates of the still-existing laws of normopathy.
So, as much as possible, eros is depicted in films without those defensive superstructures that are so familiar from psychoanalysis. The attraction of a lady for a very young man (Babygirl), the rise to porn of the strong-willed Schicchi (Diva Futura), or Joker 2, courageous in making the spectator delve into the meanderings of the folie a deux, or the darkest secrets emerging from the past in Alfonso Cuaron’s Disclaimer, are some of the examples of how this festival wants to represent sex and sexuality. We are flesh and bone, but the fundamental element is desire. Without desire, the first two would not hold up. Cinema helps us, as always, to recognise and represent it.