The Key (1983) DVD review

The Key, Tinto Brass’ first attempt at pure eroticism, has hints of comedic elements that contribute to the allure and charm of the film. Its temporal setting does not dampen the atmosphere of The Key: 1940 fascist Italy.

The film provides a quasi-epistolary style via the diaries of a reserved wife, Teresa, and her perversely educated husband, Nino. Nino is far older than his wife Teresa yet his mannerisms, gestures and lewd tendencies, which are quite uncongenial to one holds a professorship, make it seem that his elegant wife, Teresa, holds greater age. We are first introduced to Nino’s antics when he and his wife attend a banquet and he is touching his wife rather inappropriately, considering their ornamented setting. His bawdiness continues throughout the film in a faint hope to excite and extrovert his wife. In some instances this arouses some comedic value, while others leave one dismayed. Brass’ comedy is not simply engaged with the physical, he makes some use of subtle innuendoes. Brass cleverly alludes to the audience that Nino desires his wife to initiate relations with his daughter’s fiancée by inserting a rather sexual double-entendre to a candid conversation consisting of what will be served for a forthcoming dinner. Nino, the erotically charged art professor, is informed that Laszlo, their daughter’s not so paramour, is not bringing the lobsters to the dinner as thought, but instead is bringing an assortment of crabs. These slight traces of sexual allusion become enervated by persistent attempts at comedy of this nature. If perhaps, the jokes maintained the same degree of subtle undertone, instead of being struck with broad inspired sexual pander, they could be more appreciated. Sadly, this appears not to be the case.

As the film progresses, these sexual allusions become more licentious and common. This can most explicitly be observed after a tantalizing scene featuring Laszlo and Teresa. The film directly cuts to a French soldier who is garbed in a rather erect hat. This phallic connection is surely suggestive enough and for those who failed to observe the implication have no hindrance on their viewing experience. If the film continued, there would be no issue. Yet Brass does not do this. Instead, after presenting the stiffened hat, he immediately pans to a painting of an erect penis. This entirely detracts from any subtle nuance that was intended, and no longer is a gift for the audience to decipher. To use a rather crass, yet fitting phrase, he merely shoves his notions down the audience’s throat.

The Key also appears to be wrought with indolent, illogical inconsistencies. When Nino is receiving a haircut from what can only be described as an incompetent barber, the audience can hear the distinct sound of hair being cut. When the viewers catch brief glimpses of the act, they sourly discover that Nino’s hair is not actually being cut but that the barber only cuts around his head. Does phantom cutting truly deserve proper reimbursement?

Despite its flaws, The Key does present rather good qualities. For instance, the directorial work of the cameras is well done. When Teresa and Laszlo lay in bed after have consummating, the mirror that is over them mirrors a work from the Italian Renaissance. Within this scene, Brass leaves the audience with a slight piece of sophisticated, classically inspired irony. For when Laszlo and Teresa are engaged in intercourse, Laszlo boldly exclaims that they reflect the Roman-Greco Gods of Jupiter and Juno. Juno was the Goddess whose duty included the protection of married women, and Teresa is far from completing her marital duties by engaging with Laszlo (although Nino may say otherwise).

The special features of the DVD have a rather small photo gallery, but despite its quantity, it makes up for it with its quality. Brass has selected the ten most beautiful pictures of his film, which exhibits his excellent replication of 1940’s fashion. In some photos, there is a lacking of fashion and clothing but that does not detract from the quality of the photos in the least. There are also three theatrical trailers that are common to most films. But what is certainly worth watching within the special features is the seventeen-minute interview with Brass himself. In it, one can note a type of candor when he speaks that is simultaneously thought provoking and stomach churning. Within his interview, we learn why he had chosen the epistolary style for both his characters–to mirror the private and public social circumstance of fascist Italy. One maintained a certain persona when in the public fascist realm, while in the private some individuals hid those who were persecuted. By Brass presenting this style of narration, in conjunction with the temporal context, he gives greater emphasis to the dichotomy of actions in the private and public realms, while simultaneously attempting to dissolve the distinction. The private actions of those who saves and hides the persecuted became public, just as Teresa’s affair transformed her from a repressed hotel worker to sexual dynamo. She took the private nature of the affair and transplanted what she had learned to the public sphere of marriage–just as the World War two hero transplants his private actions into the public sphere. We also learn why he chose the setting of Venice. He states it is a “natural alcove” where the city’s grace gave grace to the women. He explains that Venice is a city of water that both reflects the truth and alters it (for the city’s water is quite dirty) and felt that this nature would fit the film rather aptly. However, despite all these quite revealing insights into the film, he also reveals some of his indelicate obscenities. He states that Venice made him grow both in inspiration and in the pants. He also states that Venice was an appropriate setting for the film because the town smelled as fish, just as a woman’s vagina. Despite all his foul-dom, his crass candor at times provokes a smile, simply because of its ridiculousness.

Overall, the film as a piece of erotica, especially after viewing his interview, leads one to believe that thought was inserted into it. Its inconsistencies, obviousness, comedic repetitiveness and hammy acting styles leaves one to feel a tad ungratified and desiring for something more. But, the successful moments at comedy and beautiful filming techniques are worth the moments of trivialness and lewdness.

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