The 1940s, Hungary, during the height of the Holocaust. Maximilian Theo Adolfer (Dirk Bogarde) is a Nazi prison guard stationed at one of the notorious extermination camps, where he masquerades as a doctor, as a way of satiating his perverted desire for voyeuristic dominance by invading the personal space of the prisoners by photographing them in compromising and fearful positions. His primary victim is Lucia (Charlotte Rampling), a shy and fragile prisoner who is the subject of his obsession, and with who he starts a vicious game of manipulations. Now, over a decade since the end of the war, the villain simply goes by the name “Max”, and works as a night porter at a Viennese hotel, where his existence is kept quiet, as he insists on living his life, to use his own words, “like a church mouse”, refusing to divulge his past or any personal information to anyone, with the exception of a select few who find themselves in the same situation. However, the past seems to catch up with him, as he is on the precipice of being put on trial for his role in the atrocities during the Second World War, with the prediction of some of his compatriots being that he is to be summoned to the Nuremberg Trials at some point, as soon as they become aware of his actions during the war. He and his colleagues are confident there is no case against him – all of his witnesses have died, and thus no one will be able to provide any testimony to the fact that Max did far more than just following orders. However, this changes with the arrival of Lucia, now no longer a timid young girl, but a confident and assured woman, married to a world-famous composer, with the couple trotting the globe, becoming essential parts of high society. It just so happens that Lucia finds herself staying at the same hotel Max works at, and suddenly both are thrown into a spiral of despair, forced to find a way to reconcile the past with the present – and when it becomes clear their relationship was far more sinister and twisted than it appears, the role Lucia plays in Max’s future becomes even more ambigious, and she is the only thing standing in his way of being liberated from his deplorable actions.

Liliana Cavani made a name for herself as an outspoken feminist director during a period when there weren’t many female voices that made notable impact in the arthouse cinema (a product of the popular mindset at the time, rather than the talents of the many women who worked behind the camera but often failed to earn the recognition they deserved), and someone who could take on any concept and bring her own unique perspective to the film. The work that made her a notable name in the European arthouse was The Night Porter, her sordid tale of an ex-Nazi officer and the woman with whom he had a twisted and sadomasochistic relationship for years, suddenly encountering one another a decade later, and finding that time may heal old wounds, but it can also instantly reopen them, as they once again descend into sadistic passion, with their relationship being more vicious and fierce than ever before. It is an uncomfortably beautiful tale about lust and passion – both for carnal desire, and for power and dominance, which forms the core of this electrifying psychological thriller that takes the audience on a wild and unexpectedly moving journey into the depths of human debauchery, and the limitless potential of resilience, even amongst those who perhaps don’t deserve to survive. It is a complex and thrilling film that contains elegant eroticism and a unique and subversive approach to representing history, as well as a duo of remarkable performances that define the film and make it the extraordinarily brilliant drama that it flourished into.

The Night Porter is a film brimming with commentary, and despite being a fictional work, it is one that feels profoundly real, with a sense of urgency in the story it tells, despite the fact that it tells of a time before many of us were even born, and thus thankfully can’t attest to ever having experience. What makes this film so effective is that it is one that touches on some very resonant themes, ones that go far beyond the simple confines of the temporal moments that this film portrays. At the core, this is a film that uses the idea of carnal, sexual lust to comment on a very different kind of desire – that of power, and how that can drive individuals to horrifying lengths. The two main characters in The Night Porter both find themselves on different ends on the spectrum of influence – Max is a vicious prison guard who commands the fates of everyone under his control, and Lucia is someone who is the main victim of his perverse sociological experiments. Yet, they both understand there is something much deeper to their relationship – they use sexual games of seduction and dominance not as a way of satiating their desires – there’s nothing really that they need to carnally have satisfied. Rather, its the underlying psychological aspects of their actions that turn them from merely being associated with each other through their positions on different sides of the wartime spectrum, and almost kindred spirits with different intentions. The Night Porter never delves deeply enough into their psychology during the Holocaust, so we never know who they are, or what drove them to express themselves in such a way. Yet, it becomes very clearly a film about the desire for power, and their sadomasochistic games don’t serve any romantic purposes – neither of them particularly loved the other (how could they? The very nature of their dynamic is one built out of hostility and animosity – there is no true love when it involves an abuser and a victim, regardless of how much they appear to adore one another), but because their relationship speaks to an underlying lust for dominance and favour, which makes the scene where Max finally confronts Lucia so fascinating – what starts as a violent and uncomfortable explosion of rage and fear suddenly becomes a relieving, strangely beautiful expression of something that resembles love, but is more a manifestation of a unique and twisted infatuation, not with the individual, but with the sensation of being in control, or being controlled. Whatever drove them together in particular, and whatever the reason for them resuming their relationship a decade later is not made very clear, but it is nonetheless fascinating and turns The Night Porter into an elegant but shocking character study.

Dirk Bogarde was the best actor of his generation who perpetually failed to break through in the same way as his peers did around the same time – dashingly handsome and possessing the acting talents necessary to craft any character and make them his own, he was an extraordinary actor – and we can’t ever say that he never received his fair share of great roles, especially during the 1970s, where he had a streak of memorable performances that saw him working with many of Europe’s finest auteurs (in the space of only four years, we worked with French, Italian and German directors, amongst others, and was exceptional in all of them). A chameleonic actor if there ever was one, Bogarde makes full use of his arsenal of talents in The Night Porter, playing a man just trying to live his life without any controversy, which is a tall order for a man carrying the guilt of ordering the deaths of multitudes of people under his control. Bogarde is exceptional in The Night Porter, which may possibly be his finest performance, precisely because it is such unconventional territory for the actor. He oscillates between elegant and dignified, perhaps even a tad dour and disillusioned with the world, and manipulative, lascivious and passionate, which only manifests in moments where he can realize his desires, caught somewhere between cathartic rage and unrelinquished desperation. This is a very strong performance from Bogarde, with his sensitivity intermingling with the hardened nature of the character, creating someone who we can never fully understand, but through the actor’s empathetic control of the character, we can start to comprehend him, and while his past may be questionable at best, deplorable at worst, his conviction to fade into the shadow and deflect attention is brought so vividly to life through Bogarde’s committed performance that is unwavering in intensity, and certainly proves his mettle as one of the great leading men of his day.

The Night Porter also features the star-making performance of Charlotte Rampling, another actress that has been omnipotent in the arthouse, but rarely receives the widespread adulation and recognition she deserves, despite her prolific career that has seen her take on a wide array of roles. However, before she was one of the elder stateswomen of auteur-driven cinema, Rampling was a talented young ingenue who managed to elevate absolutely every role with her extraordinary conviction and her utterly bewitching style that she brought to every film, right from the outset of her career. In The Night Porter, she makes use of all of her finest qualities, such as her intricate nuance and ability to play every scene with a blend of realism and ethereal elegance, and her deep and unrelenting humanity. This isn’t even mentioning how a single wordless moment from Rampling in this film accumulates to entire performances in other films, with her expressivity (especially through her eyes – Rampling belongs to an elite group of actors who are able to convey worlds of emotion just through their eyes) piercing the screen and carrying The Night Porter far beyond its somewhat flawed and perverted storyline. Rampling also has the more difficult task of the two main characters, because while Bogarde just had to regress from a vicious villain to the very embodiment of pitiful  disgrace, Rampling had a longer and more varied journey in portraying this character – from shy and terrified young lady (and in the flashbacks, I don’t recall Rampling saying a single word) who was victimized against her will, to an assured woman who enjoys the psychosexual attention she receives – just look at the defining moment of the film, where she parades around in Nazi regalia, entertaining her captors. The only complaint that I have about The Night Porter is that far too much attention was given to Bogarde’s character, and despite the brilliance of his performance, it is Lucia that we care the most about, and her ambigious past, whether intentional or not, robs the audience of what could’ve been one of the most affecting and fascinating portrayals of a victim’s growth and methods to dealing with the most traumatic of circumstances. The Night Porter may be Bogarde’s story, but it is undeniably Rampling’s film.

A massive element of The Night Porter, and perhaps the one that defines it the most, is the way it looks at history. A central part of this film is the intersections between the past and the present, and how the linearity of our individual experiences isn’t nearly as straightforward as we think it is. As mentioned before, the main character of Max is hoping to retreat into obscurity – he prefers to be alone and working mainly at night when the only people around him are the outcasts and the rogue guests. He does not want to be seen, because he avoids being recognized – his role in the Holocaust may not have made him one of the most wanted men in the country, but still heinous enough to need him to atone for his horrendous actions, especially the countless killings of innocent prisoners who fell victim to his sadistic games. The past follows Max like a shadow, and it eventually manifests in Lucia, whose arrival is jarring to Max – not only because it means there is someone else alive who can lay witness to the actions he would rather be forgotten, but because, much like the man who terrorized her, Lucia finds herself thrust back into the past – the surprise upon seeing each other (the film’s most intense but poetic moment) shows how the memory of the other was still there, just clouded with the events of the past few years, which have forced their previous relationship to become obscure. Yet, they eventually find each other again, and whether this is a blessing or a curse is not clear, but it does show that running away from the past does not always work as well as one would hope.

The Night Porter is a fascinating film. It may not always work as well as it should, especially considering how it feels like the second half is far less interesting than the first, but it does come together in a way that is almost impossible to resist. It may be built out of a certain portrayal of perversion – it is very clear that Cavani refused to approach this story through inoffensive means and to portray the debauchery that comes with such situations with brutal honesty. Yet, it still works, and in the innovative structure, whereby the film toggles between different eras, often juxtaposing harrowing and disconcerting moments from the past with the most seductive and alluring moments of the present, it manages to become something quite interesting, and far from being nearly as controversial as some would assume. It is anchored by exceptional performances from Bogarde and Rampling, who are individually brilliant, but breathtaking when together, their portrayals being in perfect sync, to the point where they rarely even need to utter a word to convey a certain message, allowing their tangible chemistry and meaningful expressivity to do it for them. The Night Porter is not an easy film – it certainly does not do any favours for the audience, who are intentionally made to feel uncomfortable through the unsettling, and often questionably deranged, portrayal of power, lust, dominance and desire. It isn’t a film one necessarily loves, but one that is appreciated for its unique perspective and daring approach to showing history not in the bland and innocuous way that many films of the era would, but through shocking imagery and a bold representation deviance and moral corruption, which culminates in one of the most audacious and twisted films of the 1970s, and a film that is both rightfully controversial and deeply fascinating.