The Night Porter

Luchino Visconti's The Damned (1969) kicked off a thoroughly repugnant trend in European cinema: Nazi exploitation. Yes, filmmakers retooled the 20th Century's most heinous evil for titillation. Some entries retained a veneer of respectability (Salon Kitty), but most were blatantly offensive trash like Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS. National Socialism was no longer an apocalyptic, genocidal ideology; it became a kinky turn-on. 

Then there's Liliana Cavani's The Night Porter (1974). With its talented producers and classy cast (including The Damned stars Dirk Bogarde and Charlotte Rampling), Porter clearly wants to transcend trash. It offhandedly manages that, being not sleazy so much as boring.

Former SS officer Max (Dirk Bogarde) works as a night porter at a stylish hotel in 1950s Vienna. He's shocked to encounter Lucia (Charlotte Rampling), the wife of a famous conductor visiting the city. Lucia was one of Max's inmates at a concentration camp, where they pursued a sadomasochist relationship. The two eventually hook up, only to face a new problem. Max's former SS colleagues, targeted by a police investigation, come calling, hoping to silence Lucia. When Max tries to defend her, they besiege the lovers in their apartment.

The Night Porter is an overwrought mess. Cavani tries to ape Visconti's fevered approach to Nazism, resulting only in ill-judged artistry. Her ragged flashbacks recall The Pawnbroker, only cheesier: at one point, she intercuts a Mozart opera with a rape scene. Gag. The story quickly degenerates into ludicrous melodrama. Max and Lucia reunite and immediately reenact their Dachau routine. Max frets about the investigation but there's no evidence of any imminent danger. The cadre of ex-Nazis (one sporting a monocle and dueling scar!) belongs in a bad potboiler, not a serious drama. As Roger Ebert observed, there's no reason they don't immediately kill Max and Lucia except the movie would be over.

The Night Porter fails for another reason: neither protagonist is remotely interesting. To sell this story, you need psychological or dramatic credibility, traits Porter spectacularly lacks. Max is a nasty psychopath whose idea of charm is presenting his lover with a severed head, Salome-style. Lucia's sole trait is enjoying her sick defilement; no other back story or personality provided. There's no probing of either character's psyche, no depth or motivation; they're just sick monsters. Yet perversely, Cavani begs our sympathy when Max's colleagues seek vengeance. A full-blooded exploitation movie would at least avoid Porter's moral posturing.

Dirk Bogarde gives a strong performance to no avail; his character's too one-dimensional to be remotely credible. (Since Bogarde helped liberate Bergen-Belsen during World War II, one imagines he had deep reservations about this film.) At least he shows emotion, something Charlotte Rampling barely aspires to. Gabriele Ferzetti (Once Upon a Time in the West) provides classy menace as the Nazi leader, while Isa Miranda (Summertime) plays a washed-up countess. 

The Night Porter should stand as an abject warning: adding Nazis to your movie doesn't innately generate gravitas. That's something you have to earn through effective storytelling or powerful direction. Rather than a serious exploration of fascist sexuality, it's ostentatious sopor.