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Bernardo Bertolucci and the Hypocrisy of the Film Industry

A legendary director has passed.  Many average film watchers may not know the name Bernardo Bertolucci, but his extensive career was full of accolades and his work continues to be influential.  As news of his passing spread across the web, the crying emojis and RIPs spread like ripples in a pond.  Film critics and self-proclaimed movie buffs everywhere are mourning the passing of our one the great filmmakers of cinematic history. 

I, too, mourn his passing, but not for the same reasons.  I mourn his passing the way that I mourn the death of any unrepentant sinner.  I mourn because I know that he is not resting in peace.  I am happy to say that I have never seen a Bertolucci film, so I cannot speak to his talent as a director, but regarding the content of his films, I will admit that Bertolucci was ahead of his time, but not in a good way.  You see, Bernardo Bertolucci was basically a glorified pornographer.  He pushed the boundaries of what could be placed in films, both culturally and legally (his films were often banned or edited in foreign countries, including the U.S.).  He was basically the Italian (and so much more audacious) version of Stanley Kubrick or Martin Scorsese.  His work, although still shocking even decades later, helped to normalize graphic nudity and sexuality in films.  He was basically a perv with a camera.

And so, as I see his passing being mourned by film lovers worldwide, I have to ask, Why do we celebrate men like this?  Any talent that Bernardo Bertolucci may have had is badly obscured by the sexually explicit nature of his work.  Again, I have never actually seen any of his films, but the "Parents Guide" section on IMDB for most of his films reads like a smutty novel.  As far as I'm concerned, no director/writer worth his salt needs to fill his films with sexually explicit material to get people to watch them.  His films not only contain strong sexuality, they feature it.  His films are infamously and overtly sexual.  Sex is about the only story he knew how to tell.

Moreover, how can anyone in the 21st century, the age of the #metoo movement, celebrate a man like Bertolucci.  His work objectified especially the female body, but also the male body, and sexuality as a whole.  One of his most famous films actually features a rape scene that permanently scarred the actress who was involved.  He epitomizes the hypocrisy of the film industry, which ardently claims to support the emancipation and protection of women, while harboring and celebrating those who use, abuse, and objectify them.  You cannot claim the moral high ground while celebrating men like Bernardo Bertolucci.   

So, I mourn, but I do not mourn the loss of talented director or a cutting-edge writer.  I mourn the passing of another lost soul.  I mourn the celebration of his legacy of debauchery. 


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