Luchino Visconti's White Nights captures the contrasting realism and fairy tale musings of Dostoyevsky's novella. The film is a technical marvel with the studio sets of Cinecitta representing a dream-like Livorno slum instead of St. Petersburg. Giuseppe Rotunno's cinematography allows Visconti a wide canvas with three fields of vision and a striking depth to the images. His innovative work in this film, he used tulle for a fog-like effect, led him to a majestic career both in Italy and Hollywood. Rotunno's resume includes The Leopard, Carnal Knowledge and All That Jazz. He is still with us today, as I write, at the age of ninety seven.
White Nights is fairly true to its source, adding some comedy and a rock and roll dance sequence to the brooding Russian's work. Visconti seizes upon the story's portrait of the destitute and dispossessed and this balances his tendency to wallow in glitz. The story is a slight love triangle which, in truth, is helped by the padding. The protagonist, Mario, woos a girl, Natalia in the film, who truly loves a former lodger in her building. The lodger mysteriously disappears for a year, but not before pledging his love to Natalia and asking her to wait for him.
The cast is an almost perfect fit. Marcello Mastroianni would seem too charismatic and graceful for the part of Mario, one of Dostoyevsky's ridiculous men. His attributes proved fatal to his later collaboration with Visconti on L'Etranger where he was miscast as the wan and introverted Mersault. Here the screenwriters give the protagonist more feminine attention which suits the effortlessly sexy Mastroianni. The biggest plus is his chemistry with Maria Schell who gives her most affecting performance. Schell nails the duality of her character, both the unabashed sensuality and angelic innocence.
Visconti gives Schell a wonderful close-up of surprised rapture when she first gazes upon her returning lover, embodied memorably by Jean Marais. Marais might seem a bit long in the tooth for this role, but he is an ideal object of desire for both Natalia and Visconti. Marais is always a magnificent screen presence and for the little time he is on screen in White Nights, he simply has to be. The introduction of his character in flashback provides a visual counterpoint to the dark canal sequences as Visconti suffuses the interior of Natalia's apartment with light. Also providing contrast, are the comic vignettes of Natalia's grandmother and Mario's maid. Without them, the mood would be overwhelmingly solemn.
This would be consecutive masterpieces for Visconti, following the majestic Senso. White Nights shares with that film a splendid sequence at the opera, but Visconti had much better luck with casting here. I used to have a bit of distaste for Visconti's work because I grew up seeing the limpid and overstuffed films of his last decade. However, most of what I've seen of his pre-Leopard work is pretty damned great; White Nights included.
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