In 1974 an infamous film, which happens to be one of the great cinematic meditations on love, was released. It is called The Night Porter, and it was intended to be nothing more or less than a study of the uncivilized drama of perverse, inexpungible passion. The film was denounced as sadomasochistic Nazi porn. Its plot was, to be sure, disturbing, and the viewer had to conquer a significant degree of discomfort and even outrage to consider charitably and lucidly the film’s primary theme, which perhaps explains its reception and subsequent reputation. The extreme mise en scène of the movie disrupted audiences’ relationship with its astonishing story, and allowed them to evade the excruciating questions that it broached. This was particularly true of American audiences, to whom the film was repeatedly mis-explained by American critics.
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