A film to divide its viewers. Just criticism points at its funereal pace, over-used snap zooms and persistent, lingering gazes between the protagonists. Advocates point to Dirk Bogarde's mighty performance and Pasqualino De Santis' benchmark photography of Venice.Taken altogether, this might suggest an indulgent, romanticised elegy for the nobility of homosexual love (at a time, 1971, when it was becoming consensually legal). In fact Visconti has succeeded in making a richer, more complex film than such a single-issue vehicle. He has knit his ideas - foibles and all - into a meticulously paced arc.Inside this does indeed sit the central performance of Bogarde's Aschenbach. Rather than a simpering, Johnny-come-lately gay, he manages to give a pathetic composer beaten by tragedy and misunderstood integrity who sees salvation in Tadzio. His mesmerised staggering around an increasingly hellish Venice after the boy is a straight metaphor for the artist's tenacity for truth in the teeth of the dilettante mob (and it is explicitly cut with such a flashback).Mahler's music is possibly a little over-used although it is well appropriated. The Italian overdub is a wearing anachronism but thankfully the acting doesn't suffer too much. 7/10
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