My 1974 Diary -- what an odd creature I was

The diarist on a coffee break in 1974 -- if anyone knows the make of this mug, please leave me a comment!

I've recently begun the sizeable task of transcribing all my extant notebooks and diairies into a single Word file (I've got around 80!). The idea is that it will be easier to search it for relevant bits when I come to write the book I'm planning. I won't transcribe boring bits, just personal fragments that have something of my life about them. 

My earliest diary is a W H Smith notebook with a cover so redolent of the 1970s it takes me straight back there. Here it is in all its circly glory. In this book I kept an early diary, beginning on 30 December

1973, when I was eleven and a half. I realise that it will be of more interest to me than to anyone else, because it's about myself, but at the same time I thought it might amuse anyone who finds it via this blog, partly because of all the references to popular culture and partly because I come across as such an odd bean. This diary almost reads as if I was intending it for publication: it's strangely formal and somewhat stiff. I have a suspicion that I knew my parents would be reading it (or even wanted them to read it -- ugh) and so was on my best behaviour. I feel that's a shame as I don't seem ever to entirely relax, but at the same time I think that's what I was actually like. As I say, a bit strange. 

I hope you enjoy this trip back to small-town England in the mid Seventies... (I've changed names to protect people's privacy)

 

30 December 1973

I decided to begin to write a diary. If it is successful it will be my first ever completed diary. The trouble is I keep forgetting to write entries in. 

Today I played with Helen. We washed her dog, Rollo, who was found to be extremely grubby. 

Later in the evening I watched Monty Python’s Flying Circus. It was very amusing and we recorded it on my new cassette recorder. After I had done this I went and had a bath. Surprisingly enough, I needed no persuasion. Perhaps this was because I was so filthy and for once I actually wanted a bath. Most unusual!

Daddy made his very first attempt at a collage. It turned out to be a beautiful design of leaves in very subtle shades of blue. I was very impressed.

31 December 1973

Considering that this is the last day of the year it is exceedingly boring and uninteresting. I did not go or do anything out of the ordinary to celebrate the new year. It was really rather a dismal end to what has been a horrible year, what with strikes and other miserable-making happenings.

1973 -- the petrol ran out, among many other trying things

I hope that with the start of 1974 we’ll be able to turn over a new leaf and make all the nasty things right again.

This evening I made supper for us all and Dad gave me, the coffee-slopping waitress, a tip. Maybe he did it to encourage me to do the supper more often.

Dad was making a bird to stick on his collage. I love the bird but the more I look at the collage the more I seem to see its ugly, messy features. It’s only his first try though and I think that the technique of collage needs practice. I think I shall have a go at collage. I fancy doing a picture of a fire. Flames have always fascinated me. I love the way they dance and writhe. It would be difficult to capture fire in a realistic way but I’d like to try.

Tuesday 1 January 1974               

This morning I began a collage. I started with a sun which was made up of petals of material in rich colours of reds and oranges. I think I shall make use of it in a larger collage, with the sun behind silhouetted trees.

We had a very refreshing salad for our lunch while we listened to Uri Geller on the radio.

Uri damaging someone else's fork

I put a fork on the table near the radio in the hope that Uri’s thoughts might reach it and bend it as has happened to so many other people. But Uri was spoken to over the phone from New York and when he was asked to bend something in England from New York he said that he was very tired and that it was too difficult to send thoughts all that way.

wfmillar / Richmond Falls / CC BY-SA 2.0

Later in the afternoon Helen came round and we went down to the river. It was bitterly cold and I had forgotten my gloves. My hands were bright red with cold but we had great fun smashing the ice which had collected in the small rock pools near the waterfall. We tried to take a piece of ice home with us but, inevitably, with the warmth of our hands it melted.

I challenged Helen to a race on the way home. Helen went round the long way and I went up a very steep hill which was really just as much of a handicap as Helen had. We weren't allowed to run. I beat Helen by a long distance and when I reached the decided finishing post Helen was just struggling at the bottom of the hill.

My route home -- Lombard's Wynd, Richmond

We arrived home and went and sat in my bed. Helen read one of my old annuals while I wrote my diary. When Helen had gone I dressed all my dolls in their best clothes, especially for the New Year. They looked very smart. Then I went and recorded some music on my [new] tape recorder so that I could listen to it in bed [ie recorded over the air]. It was one of my favourite records, ‘Music from the Greek Islands’. It is very peaceful.

I was just too cool for words. But it wouldn't be all that long before I was into The Clash and Stiff Little Fingers...

After this I watched the first programme in a new series of The Likely Lads which I enjoyed .

Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? Terry and Bob, characters worthy of Samuel Beckett

Immediately after this I was rushed off to Hilda and Sam’s house where we all enjoyed a game of poker. I was employed as chief lucky mascot for Mum and Dad. I don't think I brought them much luck though.

Soon we took a break. Hilda had prepared a lovely buffet supper and I ate much more than I thought I could manage. Afterwards play was resumed and Mum had quite a nice win. I am sure that the cards in her hand would not have been dealt any differently had I not been there. I sat down in a comfy chair and wrote some more diary. Then I got out my Elizabethan Costume colouring book and began to colour the first dress. I tried to use colours which might have been used on the actual dress. [I have this somewhere -- the colours I used were bright pink, grey and turquoise] We went home at 12:30. I had to be dragged away. When I got home I realised that really it was better that we came away when we did. Once out of the excitement I felt really tired.

Wednesday 2 January 1974        

I had cheese and biscuits for my lunch while listening to Just a Minute on the radio. About half an hour later Helen came and as it was too cold to go for a walk we went up to my bedroom where the paraffin stove was glowing comfortably. We pretended that it was Christmas again and we found Christmas presents for all the dolls and wrapped them in scraps of wrapping paper. It was a pity that we knew what was in them though because it spoiled the fun of making the dolls open them.

We had a delicious spaghetti bolognese for tea.

Helen went home and Mum and I went down to see Polly and Jim. We had a lovely time with little bits of toast and crackers. It was very cosy and warm. We did enjoy ourselves. At ten o'clock Mum suggested that we went home but I pleaded and begged her to let us stay a while. Actually we stayed until 11:30.

Jim ran us home in his car which had frost on the windows. That proves how cold it was. When I got in I went straight to bed.

Thursday 3 January 1974             

I got up very early and got dressed in the drastic coldness of my bedroom. I put on nice clothes because I was going out later in the morning. I had a tepid cup of tea which woke me up sufficiently to bear going out in the cold to salt the icy paths with table salt to melt the ice. Really the roads were treacherous this morning. You could see the ice glistening evilly on the path. I slid all the way down the path on hands and feet and couldn't stop so I fell down the steps. 

I listened, for the first time, to my recording of some Greek music. Mummy enjoyed it very much so it was worth recording. It wasn’t really a very good recording but you could hear it at least.

At round about ten o’clock I set off to Helen’s house. They were taking me on a spending spree in Darlington. Helen and I were going to spend the vouchers that we got for Christmas. When I got to Helen's house I was fully expecting to set off immediately so I kept my coat on. But it was an hour before we started off so I took my duffel coat off.

We were taken by Helen's grandfather. Five of us went: Helen, Carol, Helen's granny and grandad and me.  We were dropped off outside Smith’s, where we spent our book tokens (this was the main reason for going to Darlington). I bought two lovely books about Roman and Classical Greek Art. They were exquisite with most beautiful illustrations. I was so pleased with them. Helen bought a book about about an artist called Watteau. I’ve never heard of him. She also bought a rather boring book about Lewis Carroll with horrible black and white illustrations.

Ewan Munro, London, CC BY-SA

We went to Binn’s after this to have lunch.  Carol treated herself, Helen and me to scampi with peas and chips. It was my first taste of scampi and I really enjoyed it. I tried tartare sauce on a chip and didn't like it. It was too sweet. I felt a bit guilty while I was eating it because it was so expensive, but I had offered to pay and Carol had refused my money so my conscience was relieved a little.

After this I had coffee ice cream and a strawberry milkshake. Delicious! Next we had a look around Binn’s and Helen tried on loads of clothes, which turned out to be an utter waste of time as she didn't buy anything. I was very tempted by a very pretty flannel but I decided but I had enough flannels without purchasing yet another.

Helen and I each bought a small notebook. This was just luxury buying. I think I was foolish enough to buy it because so many people were buying extravagant things around me that the atmosphere of the shop was urging you to buy all its tempting miscellany. [I'm still a sucker for notebooks]

My pad had a dove on its cover and Helen's flowers. I'm going to make a picture diary in mine with little sketches showing the major happenings throughout the day.

Then we went to Williams’ to spend our record tokens. Helen bought a Craig Sheppard piano record and Dvorak's New World Symphony. I ordered Saint-Saens’ Carnival of the Animals which we studied at school. At Gallery Five Helen and I bought some stickers between us. They were of hippos and flowers. I stuck them on my bedstead when I got home.

Mummy and Daddy thought my books were lovely and that I had made a good choice. We watched The Two Ronnies and then I went to bed.

Friday 4 January 1974    

We slept in this morning. I had breakfast with Mum in her bed. When I got up I immediately had a piano and a clarinet practice. Mum went out for a drink with Aunt Marjorie. We had salmon while Mum was out [tinned, I’m sure of it]. We had it for our lunch with chips. This was because I had been clamouring for salmon ever since I had it at Hilda’s supper.

I decided not to play with Helen but then I felt terribly guilty so I rang up and invited her to come along. Mum and I decided that this was to be the day we refurnished the dolls house. I put everything from the house in a box and Daddy took the house downstairs where the light was better. First of all I polished all the wooden furniture so that it shone and Mummy began to wallpaper the walls with small-patterned material. The effect was just like real wallpaper.

Helen and I made a set of silhouettes which we mounted on circles of blue painted paper. Then I made a bearskin rug out of an old piece of imitation fur. It had bead eyes and wool whiskers. Its head was padded to make it stand up and so were the paws.

After tea we began to make dolls for the house from pipe cleaners and wool. Mine was incredibly ugly with an enormous head and very short legs.

Granny [maternal] was taking me to the [Georgian] theatre in the evening to see Alice in Wonderland so Helen went home. Mum went to Carol’s but she promised that she would come back soon and do lots more to the dolls house.

When I got to Granny’s house to meet her I found that she had gone to the theatre without me. It was pouring with rain and very chilly. When I finally got to the theatre I was very bedraggled and wet. Granny was there waiting for me. She was ushering and selling programmes. Suddenly she dropped all her money and everyone had to scrabble about on the filthy floor until we found it all.

I was sitting in front of a horrible family. One was silly and cross eyed, another was a stupid man who had to have everything explained to him twice. His wife was very short and grossly fat. She had black and yellow teeth and interfered with her friends by telling them what she thought they ought to drink and what they ought and ought not to laugh or speak about. There was a blond boy with a red knitted hippy band. This made him look simply ridiculous. His father was baby-faced. They were all horrible.

Alice in Wonderland was terribly pantomimed and everything was terribly exaggerated and we all had to boo and hiss. Very tedious. I told Granny that I really enjoyed it so as not to hurt her feelings but I didn’t honestly enjoy it.

On the way home Granny walked dreadfully slowly which made it very boring but I looked forward to seeing what Mum had done. When I got home Mum was still at Carol’s and she had done no more to the dolls house at all. I carried on with my wool doll, but seeing how ugly she was I threw her away and went to bed. I had a very uncomfortable night. I don't know why. I was also very cold.

Saturday 5 January 1974              

We slept in yet again and we went to Darlington almost immediately and had fish and chips for lunch. Daddy went out and bought a slide viewer. We watched a film called Three Coins in a Fountain. It was filmed in Rome and the scenery was beautiful.

Play Away!

After this I watched Play Away and then Candid Camera which I had never seen before. It was very peculiar.

We went home and I did a bit more of my jigsaw. I’m beginning to think I'll never get it finished. I went to bed after having a bottle of Coke and a slice of pie. It had been a very boring day.

Sunday 6 January 1974 

We slept in as usual. I hope we don’t sleep in tomorrow and be late for the first day back at school. That would be dreadful and awfully embarrassing.

On account of getting up so late, the making of the dinner was a frantic rush. When we finally ate it, though, it was delicious. Steak and kidney pie is one of my favourite dishes.

The dolls house is now virtually completed except for need of a few oddments making here and there. I invited Helen to come and play. When she arrived she found a letter (written by me) inviting her to tea at 27 Carlton Place. To find the house she was to follow the string. This led her to my bedroom where the dolls house is. We spent a happy afternoon having parties and putting the dolls to bed. The only thing was that Helen kept on putting animals in the attic which I didn't think quite fitting for a Victorian house.

We had beans on toast for tea. We gobbled it rather because we didn't want to miss any of Black Beauty, our favourite programme. After this we went upstairs again and played with Becky and Sarah [dolls]. We pretended that they were ill. 

Helen went soon after that and I went and had a large and thorough bath. In doing this I succeeded in using up all the hot water.

When I went to bed Dad set my alarm clock so that I could be aware of the time. I am convinced that it moves faster in the first half of every five minutes than it does in the second. Anyway, I only hope it's capable of waking me up tomorrow! As I went to sleep I tried to set my mind so that I could wake up early in the morning. It's my last hope. 

Monday 7 January 1974               

Success! I woke up early this morning and I wasn't too exhausted despite the effort I made last night to make myself wake up. Actually I got up a bit too early and I was left to lounge about for half an hour before I set off to school.

At school everything was horribly normal. At dinner time I accidentally chose the wrong menu. It was ghastly. I was very envious of Karen who had the other menu. Afterwards we went to the library where that ugly, big, greasy librarian was on duty. I hate her. I got a book out of the library that was all in French. It's lovely. I was lucky in that we had no homework except English which I was unable to do as Karen had the papers I needed.

All day there has been a continuous torrent of rain. We had to stay indoors all day. But at least we were warm.

There was no [wind] band practice so I went home and relaxed all evening. I think that my jigsaw is eventually coming to the end of its tether. When it is finished I'll be really proud of it. I shan't want to break it up. I also put some postcards in my albums. I want them to be museum pieces some day.

I went to bed early but I stayed awake a long time shivering because Dad forgot to do me a hot water bottle and as he was watching a programme on the television I didn't like to interrupt his viewing. I was so cold that I wished I had asked for one. In the end I couldn't bear it so I went down and got one. Utter bliss.

Tuesday 8 January 1974

I got up a bit late this morning but I soon caught up with myself. School was very chattery and we didn't seem able to keep quiet. We had a lovely dinner and then we went and read in the library.

After school I went downtown in the rain with Sandy I wished I hadn't in the end because I got so wet and uncomfortable. At least I got my candles. They are very pretty colours.

At last I've finished my jigsaw. It looks magnificent. I went to bed at ten pm. Rather late, I think, for me.

I am lying in bed thinking about my diary. I realise now that there are lots of interesting things I might have put. The next part of my diary is a conglomeration of things that I should like to remember.

My beautiful jigsaw is a picture of the Kings Road. It's taken about five hours altogether to do it but if I was given this jigsaw and five hours to do it in without any breaks I don't think I would have been able to concentrate hard enough.

Mummy says that I’m grown-up now and I have to be independent. I think I agree with her. I have to walk home on my own now and wash my hair unaided. I think this is very sensible but it’s a very sudden change.

The dolls house is simply perfect. It has four rooms and two attics. There is a kitchen which will have a roaring fire in eventually (only painted). I like to keep real food in store [in it]. Tom Thumb drops are very useful for this purpose. Next to the kitchen is the drawing room. It has blue walls and a purple velvet carpet. There are tiny silhouettes and framed pictures on the walls. I've got an exquisite sofa and two beautiful armchairs. Luckily my dolls fit all the furniture perfectly. It's a pity, though, that they are so modern, they rather spoil the Victorian atmosphere of the house. Upstairs are two bedrooms. One is mainly green with a four-poster bed. It's got green drapes and a lovely green quilt. These match the walls. The other room has two twin beds, each with a pink frill round them, and a tiny pink continental quilt. Mummy made them. I do think she's clever.

Thursday 10 January 1974           

I didn't do any diary yesterday because I had such an uninteresting day and I could think of nothing worthy of being written down.

This morning it was very difficult to get up because of the contrast between the warmth of my bed and the bitter cold of the room. I eventually made an effort and went downstairs. I went to school without Mum today [she was a teacher at my school]. When I was ready she was still pottering about so I set off.

Work was much the same as usual but we had a new art teacher whose name is Mr Otway. He does interesting work and he wears purple jeans. In science we were visited by a young student called Mr Laws. Mr Renwick grimly told us that we were having an awful test tomorrow. He made it sound dreadful. I revised thoroughly (I hope) when I got home.

Dinner was alright except it was completely cold which is horrid when you're having chips and chocolate sponge.

In Latin I got another ‘A’ which I was very pleased about. At the end of Maths we were told that we were also in for a Maths test on Monday. I hope I'm not at school then. I hate tests! [patently untrue]

I had a lot of homework but when it was done I went and recorded my favourite music all evening. I had a very annoying time because the doorbell and phone kept on ringing and people seemed to be shouting and banging all the time. This of course spoiled all my recordings and I had to start again twice. Eventually I got a lovely tape full of an interesting selection of pieces both classical and popular.

Helen came momentarily with Rollo just to borrow some felt tips. She didn't stay any length of time.

When I went to bed I played music to send myself to sleep.

Friday 11 January 1974 

We slept in and because of this I waltzed off to school and remembered that I had forgotten my P.E. kit. I was by then already at school and so I pelted all the way back home to fetch it. When I arrived back at school it had already begun but only just. I was terribly hot and I was panting and heaving like an old man.

The dreadful Science test came. It was very difficult but I had my lucky charm with me [a round stone]. Hope it worked. The rest of the day I spent doing gym and netball. During netball my legs went purple. It must have been the wind that did it.

In the evening I had my piano lesson and Mr Tillotson told me that I was good and doing well. During Science I got an ‘A’ so I felt quite pleased.

After band practice at dinner time Karen and I and a few others from our class stayed in and practised Joseph's Technicolor Dreamcoat. Karen played the piano and Sandy and I the clarinet. The others sang. Anna played the bass part on the viola. I thought it sounded super but the boys said it sounded ’orrible from outside.

In the evening after I had had my tea I went to see Helen. We played with our ragdolls but after half an hour we stopped and we went and watched Billy Liar.

I had delicious jammy crumpets for my supper and then I went to my bedroom and sat, like a secret author, writing my diary in a little tiny chair that has no seat in it. While I wrote I listened to soothing music.

Saturday 12 January 1974           

Nothing much happened today. Nothing of interest ever happens on Saturday. In the morning I had a long bath while listening to music. Then we went to Granny's [paternal]. We had pies for lunch followed by delicious Christmas pudding and cream.

We watched an interesting film about going to the moon. It was unusual because it was made before anyone ever set foot on the moon.

For tea I had egg and bacon. Mum bought me a gorgeous little book.

It was Kate Greenaway's alphabet book. It is only tiny. I have put it in my collection as it is a bit big for the dolls house.

Goodie Goodie Yum Yum...

We went to home just as The Goodies started so I missed it. I did see Upstairs Downstairs though. I do love it.

Before Downton Abbey there was Upstairs Downstairs

Sunday 13 January 1974               

I had a terrible load of homework. It took me all morning and half the afternoon. I also did some in bed.

We had delicious rump steak for dinner, an experience I had never previously had. When Helen came we dismantled one of Mum's disaster-collages and also the Christmas tree! I know we're terribly late but we just didn't seem able to find time to do it. I hope it isn't unlucky to be late in taking down decorations.

Later Helen and I played with the dolls house. We put real, tiny candles in the candlesticks. The candles are meant for cakes really.

We had spaghetti on toast for tea followed by jam tart. Then we watched a very exciting episode of Black Beauty.

Helen went home and I washed my hair. Then we tried out Granny’s slide projector which we’ve borrowed. Most annoyingly all the slides were out of focus. We couldn't think why because when we looked at them in the slide viewer they were beautiful. In the end we figured it out and we saw them. It was quite a treat.

Monday 14 January 1974             

Today I got a prepared-for shock. A horrible Maths test. It was very difficult but I had revised so it wasn't as hard as it might have been.

After school there was a band practice. Today Paul H took it because Mr Ewart was busy. It wasn't very good because he couldn't control the boys well enough. After this I rushed home and watched Tom’s Midnight Garden. I'm going to get the book.

Tuesday 15 January 1974             

This morning at school we had our school photographs taken. We had one of us separately and one as a class. This caused us to miss nearly all Maths. When we got back for the last few minutes of Maths Mrs Brook told us that the results were so bad we would have to do the test again. She hasn't marked mine yet. We also got the Latin test results. I was top of the class with 43 out of 44. I was thrilled. At dinner time we practised Joseph in the music room. It is coming on well. We also did it as a class in Music. Mr Griffin promised that today we could do Drama but as usual he made excuses.

There was no choir tonight so I came home and did my homework. Mr Hatton came to talk about welding. We had ice cream for our tea following egg and bacon. I played the clarinet for a while and then I had a bath. Later I attempted to play the piano but was refused permission as THE TELLY was on. But I did see The Likely Lads which I love. I watched Colditz and went to bed.

Wednesday 16 January 1974      

This morning it snowed, horrible slushy snow that splashed your legs and was not slippery. There was no fun in playing in it so I went inside the building during break. Sandy had some crisps for break and Karen brought a satsuma. In Maths we got our test results. I got 39 which was the highest mark in the class. This isn't really very good out of 50.

In the library lesson I finished off ‘Hilary’s Adventure’ and gave it in to Mr Griffin.

A truly terrible story

Geography was very boring. After school I trudged home and rested all evening.

Thursday 17 January 1974           

This morning we had Art. I finished off my picture of a girl’s head. I'm quite pleased with it. In Science we got the results of the test. I was top with 25 out of 30. This means that I got full marks and top marks in every test we have had this week. After dinner there was an orchestra practice. In the afternoon I had a clarinet lesson and then I met Karen and walked home. I played with Helen after tea and we put real candles in the house and lit them. We switched off the electric light. The glow was beautiful but soon black marks appeared on the ceilings and we blew them out.

May 1974            

Interlude. It is now May and almost six months since I wrote any diary. Isn't that terrible? I just knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up. I've just been reading through all the previous entries. It hardly seems any time since all that happened. Such a lot has happened since then but I can't remember it all. I'm going to try again with my diary, so ‘Here goes’!

Sunday 19 May 1974     

This morning I lay in bed longing for a cup of tea but feeling too idle to force myself to get out and fetch one for myself. However in the end Dad came – without any tea – and got me up. I began my homework. How I hate weekend homework. It should be stopped. I had some Science that I had to ask Dad to help me with and he got in an awful temper and threatened to write letters to various people.

I finished my homework just before dinner and so I raced down, dropped my books and sat down to a delicious beef casserole. Afterwards I rang Helen and asked her if she would like to go to the tennis tournament with us. She said ‘Naoowh’ in a mingy voice but later when I saw her in the street she changed her mind. We set off at ten to two. After the first match Sam was knocked out so we decided to leave and go for picnic. We went to Whitcliffe Woods, a very picturesque spot that you get to along a very bumpy track. In the woods there were lots of different flowers and I found an orchid which is very rare. We had an absolutely super time, finishing with a picnic and then French cricket. When we looked at the time we saw to our amazement that it was already half past seven and the sun was setting. We went home feeling happily weary and I had a cool bath straight away. The bath water was grey and slimy when I got out.

Granny came to see Mum but spent most of the time playing the piano in a horrible slip-slap way.

After my day in the sun I was both exhausted and ravenous and after two tomato dips I went to bed and wrote my diary, for the simple reason that I couldn't find my book.

But there was only one more entry after that. My 1974 diary was over (although I tried again in 1975, but that will have to be for another time).

L'Avventura (dir. Antonioni, 1960) -- some thoughts

 

Gabriele Ferzetti and Monica Vitti in L'Avventura

Michelangelo Antonioni’s seventh feature film, L’Avventura (The Adventure or perhaps The Fling) was his first internationally successful film. First shown at the Cannes Film Festival on 15 May 1960, it took the audience by surprise as Antonioni had pivoted to a new, radically different style for which they were ill-prepared. Deprived of the familiar kind of structure and plot they were expecting, the audience laughed at the film’s key moments and then began to jeer so loudly that both Antonioni and his leading lady Monica Vitti (also his partner at the time) wept in their seats in the theatre. The next day a large number of the critics and film-makers attending the festival gave Antonioni a letter that they had all signed saying that they admired the film; it also won a special jury prize a few days later (although there were also boos at that ceremony).

Two screenshots from the documentary Dear Antonioni (Arena, 1997) plus the proud notice at the start of the film itself

In spite of its rocky launch, the film found audiences internationally that loved its strange atmosphere and very modern sense of alienation. It became highly influential, ushering in new trends in art cinema and, as such, has been written about by many critics since.

I came to Antonioni’s film only recently as part of a process I undertook to try to heal myself of a lingering ‘wound’. In 1982 I spent a year in Siena, Italy, as part of my university degree. Now is not the time to retell everything that happened while I was there, but when I left Italy at the end of my stay I never wanted to go back: I hadn’t enjoyed myself there, or not all the time (even though I did have some happy memories) and, as time went on, with repeated retelling the story of my Italian year hardened into one of dislike and regret. I turned my back on the country. It was only in 2020 that I began to go over my experiences in detail and to try to work out why I had taken against it so categorically. Was it something the Italians I’d met had done to me or was it my own fault? There was ‘wrong’ on both sides, I decided and, besides, at nearly forty years’ distance most of the upsets seemed more like youthful clumsiness. 

Me in 1982 above the Piazza del Campo, Siena

I soon began to regret my boycott of Italy and of Italian culture for all this time (though I had managed to force down plenty of their delicious food over the years). My timing was poor: it was the Covid lockdown and Italy was one of the worst affected countries, along with the UK – so there wasn’t the option to jump on a plane and get my feet wet in the Trevi Fountain or revisit the Piazza del Campo, the stunning open space in the centre of Siena where so many of my misadventures had begun.  

Instead, I turned to films and began to greedily consume the great works of Italian cinema, starting with neo-realism, particularly the films of Roberto Rossellini. I didn’t really have a coherent ‘programme’ of watching in mind, but I’ve been guided by My Voyage To Italy, Martin Scorsese’s fantastic two-part tour through the history of Italian cinema (1999). From Rossellini’s extraordinary Stromboli (1950), it was a short hop to Antonioni’s L’Avventura, two films whose key sequences take place on unforgiving volcanic islands surrounded by an indifferent sea. I’d like to write about the interplay of these two films one day, but for now I’m going to note down some thoughts about L’Avventura.

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven't seen L'Avventura before, please note that what follows will include detailed spoilers.

Characters like chess pieces...

One of the hardest things to get our heads around is that the characters in novels, plays and films are not real people. They’re not people at all, but chimeras: fictions conjured up from the author or film-maker’s head for whatever purposes their creator wants them to serve. With films and plays, it’s even harder for us to bear this truth in mind because the director’s or playwright’s chimeras are interpreted by actors who move and speak more or less like real people. We have a strong tendency to identify with these characters, to side with them or against them, and that seems to be an important factor in many people’s enjoyment of a book or film or play. When I was in a book group, I was always struck by the number of times people said, ‘I didn’t like the book, the characters were so unlikeable’, as though the two things were intimately bound together. But there’s no obligation for a writer or director to give us sympathetic characters or even to be concerned to make their characters realistic. Characters are perhaps better thought of as more like chess pieces, where each piece represents an aspect of the creator’s overall idea for the work. In L’Avventura, I think this is a particularly useful thing to keep in mind, because the characters function less like ‘real’ individuals and more like ciphers for the directors’ ideas. He moves them about his landscapes and interiors almost like an artist adding paint to a canvas (and Antonioni was a keen painter) or like a choreographer bringing members of a ballet on and off the stage. So although I'm not going to ignore the foregrounded ‘story’ of Anna and Sandro and Claudia and the others on their doomed mini-cruise, for me the most interesting elements of the film are the structural metaphors, in which Claudia et al function as symbols in Antonioni’s vision of the human condition.

Anna and her father (with the 'sinking' St Peter's in the background)

The film begins on the outskirts of Rome with a young woman, Anna (Lea Massari), walking down a gravel path away from a house. She looks moody and out of sorts (and I found myself being very aware of how her ankles wobble in her high heels, as if she’s being undermined by her feminine accoutrements). When she reaches the road she meets her father and they have a miserable conversation which seems to underline that they don’t gain much comfort or affection from each other. In the background a huge dome (actually St Peter’s) appears to be sinking beneath the horizon, as though to remind us that religion isn’t much help these days and the whole great gilded edifice of the Church is on its way out.

The location of Sandro's apartment today (Googlemaps)

Anna’s friend Claudia (Monica Vitti) appears from nowhere and although Anna is clearly out of sorts  they hop into Anna’s chauffeured car to drive into Rome. Perhaps life isn’t too bad after all. They soon pull up in a little square in the heart of the city (Piazza San Bartolomeo all’Isola on the Isola Tiberina). Anna’s boyfriend Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti) has his flat here, above a chic little art gallery. Although Sandro’s life seems pretty well sorted, he doesn’t strike me as particularly attractive. His features are rather ill-defined, he’s a tiny bit overweight. 

Man or god? You decide...

I think it’s important that he can stand for everyman, an ordinary man rather than a godlike film star. In any case, Anna isn’t keen to see him. Even though they rushed to get there, she says she’s going to go to a bar first. Claudia is fairly accepting of her friend’s capricious behaviour and she listens as Anna tries to explain her accidie: it’s hard being apart from Sandro, a wrench, but it’s also easy – you can think your own thoughts – then, when you get together, you’re confronted by the banal reality of the relationship: that’s all there is.

 

To my mind, Anna’s speech goes to the very heart of the film, pinning down the state of dissatisfaction and boredom in which we so often seem to find ourselves, in which nothing is ever enough, nothing fills the hole at the core of our selfhood. We're drawn towards someone else, perhaps just physically to begin with, but then they don't fulfil us as we'd hoped.

 

Even as she undresses, Anna seems angry...

Just as Anna says they should just leave, Sandro spots them from his window and so they can't run away. Instead, Anna goes up to the flat. She skulks around like a caged animal, then begins to undress, even though the threesome are on their way to join friends for a boat-trip and Claudia is waiting down in the square. It promises to be a fairly joyless coupling but Sandro doesn't say no. There's a moment when we actually see Claudia standing below.

Claudia is watching...

'She'll wait,' Anna says. The next shot is from Claudia's point of view and we see Sandro closing the curtains, so we know she knows what's going on up there. 

Soon, though, the three are on their way to the coast. Transitions between places happen speedily in this film and the next scene is the next morning when the guests on rich Patrizia's boat are waking up after their first night on board. The poor crew have had to stay awake all night so that the guests can wake up with their destination in sight: the Aeolian Islands, volcanic deposits jutting harshly out of the Mediterranean off Sicily. It seems Sandro works for Patrizia's husband Ettore, although Ettore isn't in the party. Instead, Patrizia has a rather fey admirer called Raimondo paying court to her, and there is another couple, Corrado, older than the others, and ditzy Giulia (perhaps not as young as she looks as she has been with Corrado for at least twelve years and he seems completely bored with her). This is the lifestyle of the Italian bel mondo, wealthy, worldly and cynical. Jumping ahead a little, we'll see Raimondo humiliated by Patrizia: wanting to be intimate with her, he has to made do with a glimpse of her leg under the table and then a desultory touch of her flesh while she lights a cigarette. Her little lap dog isn't even disturbed.

 

Even wealth and an apparent freedom to do whatever you like doesn't seem to bring much joy.

 

Meanwhile, Anna seems like a caged animal -- the cramped space on the boat too small to contain her. Sandro suggests a swim but Claudia doesn't fancy the sea around the brooding islands they're passing just then: Basiluzzo nearby and Lisca Bianca in the distance. She says it's 'frightening'.

The forbidding rocks of Basiluzzo

But in a sudden fit of pique, Anna dives into the water.

 

 

It's as though her 'noia' (boredom, annoyance) makes her careless, she's taking risks. As the boat is moving along quite swiftly, Anna is quickly left behind in the water. Poor Sandro feels obliged to jump in after her -- the manly thing to do. You feel that Anna probably jumped in to 'test' Sandro. 

The boat stops and a couple of the others jump in for a swim as well. But the next thing we know, Anna is crying out that there's a shark in the water!

Everyone panics, but luckily Sandro is able to bring Anna safely back to the boat. Everyone else scrambles back on board too.

Back on the boat there's a brief interlude while Anna and Claudia dry themselves and get changed. There's a moment of quite powerful sexual frisson between the two. Anna gets Claudia to try on a shirt of hers and says it looks better on Claudia than on her, and then she tells Claudia that there wasn't a shark, she made it up. Claudia doesn't really understand why -- 'Something to do with Sandro?' 

When Claudia leaves the cabin, Anna stuffs the shirt into Claudia's duffel bag. This feels like the end of the film's 'first act'.

 

'Act 2' sees the party disembark to explore Lisca Bianca, a near-deserted volcanic rock of an island. In the still above elderly Corrado flirts feebly with Claudia (upsetting ditzy Giulia). In the background note that Anna is climbing up the rock, setting herself apart from the others. 

Everyone wanders aimlessly about the island on their own. There's nothing to do, not much to see. Anna and Sandro meet up, seemingly by chance, and have a short and difficult conversation about their relationship. 

Anna is so unhappy. She says the 'disagio' (uneasiness, discontent) she's feeling is worse this time (on seeing Sandro again after a month away from him), she wants to talk about it, 'Or is it pointless?' 

Sandro says, 'We'll have plenty of time to talk about it when we're married.'

Anna shoots back, 'Marriage won't change a thing.'

Sandro: 'All this talk... words just confuse things. I love you, isn't that enough?'

'No,' replies Anna, 'It isn't enough. I want to be on my own for longer... Two months, a year, three years... and yet the thought of losing you kills me... but I don't feel you any more.'

'Didn't you "feel" me at my place yesterday?' jokes Sandro but now he's offended Anna. Why does he have to drag everything into the gutter? They fall into an awkward silence. In a way, this scene replays Anna's speech outside Sandro's flat in Rome and reminds us of her and Sandro's strangely joyless coupling while Claudia waited for them down in the square. This is Anna's last moment of existence as a character in the film. 

In the very next shot we see, in the distance, a small boat passing the end of the island, barely visible.

Anna is gone. The others don't even know it yet. Did she leave in that little boat, somehow? Did she drown? Did she kill herself? We don't know. We will never know. Her disappearance is as final as death -- no explanation, no coming back, no way to find out her reasons. Gone. But for the time being no one has missed her.

It's Claudia who first sounds a note of alarm, asking Sandro if he's seen Anna. 'She was here,' he says. Now, with the weather suddenly worsening, they all start to look for her, just when they wanted to go back onto their boat. It's like when Anna cried 'Shark!': everyone else has to act on her whims. Sandro hates this side of her, he says (and who wouldn't?). 

The island is implacable, difficult to clamber over and with thousands of possible places where Anna might be. The situation soon seems grim, frustrating, disturbing.

Everyone searches alone. I froze this shot of Sandro mirrored by a very phallic rock -- we'll come back to this later. 

The barrenness of this island where everyone is alone seems to me to be a central image of alienation and solipsism -- this is the human condition.

While Claudia is peering over the sheer rocks to see if Anna might have slipped, a loose stone tumbles past her and plummets into the sea. The island seems fraught with tension and danger. It's almost as if the whole thing might crumble into the sea.

When it becomes clear that the party are not going to find Anna just by wandering around, they split up. Sandro and Corrado will stay on the island in case she turns up, while the rest of the group will go to the nearest island where they can raise the alarm and get the coastguard out. Claudia insists on staying as well, even though Sandro says she'll be a nuisance. She was close to Anna and feels she must help to find her.

She gets her bag and goes off ahead of the other two.

On the very top of the island there's a tumbledown hut and when stormy weather sweeps in, the trio seek shelter there. 

The hut is actually the home of a solitary fisherman and, later in the afternoon, he comes back and finds them there. He doesn't seem to mind too much but almost immediately launches into a 'tour' of the photos on his wall, which are all of family and friends.

The visitors spend the stormy night there.

Claudia wakes from her night in the hut

I feel this hut carries a special meaning within the film, albeit rather a conservative one: this primitive shelter, and the way it honours kith and kin, is the best option the benighted individuals have going for them. The old man takes them in and shares his space with them for the night. They survive the storm and the next day there's a kind of peace. It might suggest that a simple home life with loved ones is our best option for dealing with life.

Claudia's dress is still damp from the rain, so she hunts in her bag for something else to put on. That's when she finds the shirt that Anna secretly gave her, back on the boat.

She puts it on and, now, she symbolically becomes Anna or, at least, she stands in for Anna. She and Anna occupy the same symbolic space now. This change or merging seems to be underlined by the way her face is obscured, almost erased, in the next scene.

It's one of the emblematic images from the film which is why I already used it right at the start -- but this is where it comes in the narrative. Where previously Sandro and Claudia were rather hostile towards each other, perhaps seeking to blame each other for Anna's disappearance, now there's almost a tenderness between them and they talk about their shared affection for Anna and the impossibility of making her happy. Something passes between them, a freighted moment when Claudia slips and Sandro helps her up.

Before long the boat comes back to pick them up and the coastguards take over the search. Anna's father also arrives and there's an awkward moment when he sees that Claudia is wearing his daughter's shirt -- has she stolen it? Does her wearing it somehow dishonour Anna? No, but she apologises anyway. It adds weight to her having assumed Anna's identity somewhat.

Now everyone is coming off the island and they each plan what they're going to do. Claudia and Sandro go back onto Patrizia's boat to get their belongings. The moment where Sandro sees Claudia brushing her hair in her cabin recalls the earlier scene in Rome when Claudia stood below in the square and saw Anna and Sandro kissing. Now she is in the place of Anna.

Sandro can't resist. He moves in on Claudia. He is, I feel, acting out his Man function, responding to an attractive woman, he can't help himself (not my view -- I'm reading the film here!). It may only be a day since Anna disappeared but he can't resist the Anna substitute in front of him. Claudia pulls away and is upset.

Soon after, Sandro goes with the coastguard to see some suspect fishermen being interrogated. Claudia plans to visit each of the islands in the group to look for her friend. The others are going to visit their rich friends, the Montaldos, and there's a vague plan to meet up again there.

Sandro leaves Claudia behind

Some time later, Claudia is on the mainland of Sicily, waiting to catch a train to wherever the Montaldos live. 

Sandro has heard where she is from the coastguard who brought her to Sicily. He turns up at the station, desperate to take things to the next level with her.

No, Claudia feels too guilty about usurping Anna's relationship with Sandro to act on her feelings for him, whatever they are.

She gets on the train alone but at the last minute Sandro can't resist running after it and jumping on.

 

 

On the train there's a wonderful sense of what Sandro and Claudia's relationship might be like if it wasn't under the dark cloud of Anna's disappearance. Even as Claudia is begging Sandro to back off, she is playful and full of laughter. Their acute sense of each other's proximity is palpable. But Claudia's guilty feelings ultimately override everything.

She can't believe that they are so close to 'betraying' Anna by giving in to their desire for each other.

She makes Sandro leave the train while she travels on.

The train carriage with the sea just outside the window is reminiscent of the cabin on Patrizia's boat -- a little cell where Claudia is trapped. There are many such visual echoes in the course of the film. 

Now there's an interlude before the next 'act' of the film starts. It's an amazing scene: hundreds of men (not a woman to be seen) running across a city street -- the sort of thing you see when revolutions happen...

This mob is all in aid of Gloria Perkins, a starlet who has torn her skirt. The men of this city, Messina, are being driven to an absolute frenzy by the unexpected glimpse of her thigh. She milks it for all she's worth. The local newspaper ushers her into their office to save her from being torn limb from limb by the baying crowd -- and it happens that Sandro has just arrived there too, to question a journalist about Anna's disappearance.

The journalist whispers that Gloria's 'price' is '50,000': he'd pay for her himself if he had the money...

 This scene shows men responding to a woman in an animalistic way, unthinkingly, in a herd. That's what they're programmed to do, the film seems to suggest. It's in their blood...

The next 'act' of the film takes place at the luxurious palazzo of the Montaldo family where Patrizia, her husband Ettore, plus Corrado Giulia and Raimondo have already settled in as guests. Claudia now joins them. The only person missing is Sandro, and Claudia is on tenterhooks, hoping he'll come soon. She runs from window to window, every time she hears a car engine. She's bored but in a state of feverish anticipation. She and Patrizia try on wigs to amuse themselves.

Patrizia says to her, 'You look like a completely different person'. And perhaps men only differentiate between women based on their hair colour? Nothing else matters much? We'll see...

Giulia, who is the ditzy girl who goes out with Corrado even though he constantly belittles her, has a new admirer, Goffredo, the creepy Montaldo grandson, seventeen. He likes to paint grotesque nudes and he wants Giulia to pose for him. She's beside herself with excitement at the attention. She drags Claudia with her to see Goffredo's studio and it's just like the beginning of the film all over again: Claudia has to stand and watch while the couple make out.

This enforced voyeurism sends Claudia in search of Sandro. The Montaldos' chauffeur takes her to the village where she has guessed that Sandro will be (the newspaper reported a sighting of Anna there).

They meet up and silently agree to continue the search together, in Sandro's car. Although Anna is still ostensibly the glue holding them together, everything has changed. Claudia and Sandro's desire is mutual now.

At last! Claudia looks so happy (a stark contrast with Anna, if we remember). Perhaps she and Sandro can make a go of things? -- although, perhaps as a warning of the dangers ahead, just when they met up again they had an encounter with a sleazy chemist and his very unhappy wife of three months.

They've heard a rumour that Anna was seen in Noto (a beautiful Baroque town in Southern Sicily), so they make their way there and plan to take a room in a pensione. The film seems to be chasing its own tail now (visually), recreating earlier scenes -- or that's how I saw it. I found it compelling. 

When they get to Noto, Sandro goes into the pensione alone (there's some reason why Claudia doesn't want to go in too, something to do with Anna possibly being there?) and Claudia is left alone out on the street. It's the scene with Gloria Perkins again, only more threatening, sinister.

Nothing happens to Claudia but men silently materialise all around her and 'eat' her with their eyes. Then she sees Sandro coming out of the building -- there's a woman behind him. Could it be Anna? She runs into a paint shop to hide from her friend. But it wasn't her. Even so, all Claudia's guilt comes pressing back in on her. If Sandro were to say he loved her (Claudia) now, she says she could only think of all the times he'd said it to Anna previously. Sandro doesn't see that as a problem.

The scene switches to the top of a church tower in Noto. To me, this stands for the rugged island from earlier in the film, especially when you see Claudia cautiously clambering around the stonework.

Seemingly on a whim, Sandro asks Claudia to marry him (as he talked of marriage to Anna on the island), but she says no -- things aren't 'clear' enough for her yet. In the next scene, back at their hotel, she is happy, skittish, flirting with Sandro, irresistible you'd think, and yet he resists her, isn't in the mood. It's as though men and women so rarely match each other perfectly. There's always something to spoil simple happiness.

Sandro goes out into Noto for a stroll. Up on the church tower, Sandro had talked of wanting to ditch the well-paid work he does for Ettore to return to more creative work. In the square there's a young man sketching an architectural detail -- he could be Sandro in his younger days. Now, though, the museum is closed (even though it's supposed to be open) and Sandro is put out. The past is closed to him now and he can't get back there.

When the artist leaves his sketch unattended for a moment, Sandro deliberately spoils it by spilling the bottle of ink over it.

It's a shocking little act of pique and bitterness which speaks volumes. Then, after he nearly gets into a fight with the young man, Sandro joins a column of young boys coming out of a nearby school -- he so desperately wants to regress to his youth.

He comes back to the hotel room, angrily shuts out the gorgeous architecture of Noto, which seems to mock his dead creativity. Now he wants to have sex with Claudia, but she isn't in the mood any more (having been rejected earlier). Sandro almosts forces himself on her. It's an ugly scene. 

Can they ever really be in tune with each other? 

They move on to a grand hotel further along the coast -- again on a tip that Anna might be there. She isn't, but Patrizia and Ettore are. It's an opportunity for Sandro to do what he said he longed to do and resign from his job as Ettore's costings man, the thing that's supposedly holding his true creativity back. That evening, Claudia is exhausted. She just wants to go to bed early, so Sandro says he'll go down and talk to Ettore, tell him. But he doesn't, Ettore doesn't want to know -- the moment passes. Instead, Sandro roams the lounges and corridors of the hotel, catching women's eyes.

Oh no, it's only Gloria Perkins! She gives Sandro a very meaningful look.

Claudia wakes up very early the next day and discovers that Sandro never came up to bed. Melancholy, she looks out of the window in a way that mirrors her earlier gazing from the windows of the Montaldo palazzo. 

left: at the hotel; right: earlier, at the palazzo

Then she runs through the hotel's now deserted corridors looking for him -- again there's an echo of her previous corridor-running in search of him at the palazzo.

left: at the hotel; right: earlier, at the palazzo

Picking through the detritus of the previous evening's decadent partying, she finally finds Sandro -- laid out on a sofa in the arms of Gloria...

What a calamity. Sandro jumps up, tossing some money over Gloria as the 'piccolo ricordo' (a 'keepsake') she begs him for, but Claudia has already run off. She's devastated.

What an idiot Sandro has turned out to be. He just can't help himself, but has to follow his base instincts constantly. Having hopped so readily from Anna to Claudia, now he's hopped on again. Already.

Claudia has run outside. She doesn't know what to do, where to go. The wind rustles the leaves on the trees ceaselessly -- it reminded me of the ceaseless roar of the sea when they were on the island. It's nature, human nature included, never changing.

Here's Sandro, feeling horribly guilty now, of course, sitting outside the hotel. He's crying. And look, there's a phallic symbol right behind him, just as there was briefly on the island (as I noted above). For me, this (perhaps humorously) underlines that, for Antonioni, Sandro is just a man, acting as men will act -- according to their nature. Is it a deliberate visual? Who knows.

Claudia is there, behind him. And behind her is a little ruined structure that reminded me very much of the fisherman's hut on the island:

The two little structures compared

It's a visual reminder -- perhaps -- that the fisherman had lived a long, hard life and treasured his memories of his family above all else.

Claudia goes slowly across to Sandro and, in spite of everything, puts out a hand to comfort him.

Perhaps she understands. Perhaps she is just accepting that he is flawed, incapable of being faithful. Better a life with Sandro than alone?