In the vast landscape of romantic cinema, no one did it better than Luchino Visconti, whose career was populated by achingly beautiful stories of love, usually set to the backdrop of fascinating historical events, making his films multilayered explorations of the human spirit in its various forms. One of his finest achievements, albeit one that isn’t spoken about as widely as some of his others, is Senso, his gorgeous odyssey set during the  Italian-Austrian war of unification in the 19th century, in which Italy was in conflict with Austria for control over various regions between the countries. The film is less about the war, and more about the parallel lives of two people drawn together in a seemingly mutual romance, despite being on opposing sides of this bitter and violent feud. Visconti’s version of Romeo and Juliet (interestingly, a vital location in both works is Verona), this film is an absolute masterwork of both visual splendour and narrative complexity, proving that Visconti was one of the rare filmmakers who was able to harness a remarkable aptitude in both style and substance, which is hardly a revelation to anyone who has seen his other work. Beautiful, lavish but not lacking an ounce of depth below its gorgeous surface, Senso is a beautiful journey into Italy’s past, told with a blend of affection and genuine honesty by one of the true cultural historians who dedicated so much of his career to preserving the history of his nation, all through the guise of stunning period dramas that say as much as the culture in which they take place as they do the varied and original characters that exist within it.

However, as remarkable a work as Senso may be in contrast with some of the director’s other historical epics, we also need to consider when it was made, and wherein particular Visconti was in his career. Despite already being an established filmmaker who had over a decade of solid work under his belt, Senso was only the director’s fourth film, and it was the very first time he ventured into the kind of lavish historical drama that he would make more regularly afterwards. In many ways, the film feels like a dress rehearsal for The Leopard, touching on many of the same ideas regarding a melancholy story of a changing socio-cultural landscape sweeping over idyllic Italy, as well as looking deep into the roots of the nation’s culture and its mentalities surrounding romance. The idea of a relationship being built on love is a remarkably new concept, and as seen through many of his films, Visconti was intent on looking at the challenges that come when two people form a connection, and the complications that occur when they decide to embrace this romance, against their better judgment. This is territory Visconti would tread many times in subsequent films, and arguably in a more polished and concise manner – yet, the fact that Senso is a work-in-progress isn’t necessarily a hindrance, but rather an interesting component that adds to the fascinating nature of the film. A diamond in the rough that is beautifully executed is not easy to come by, but it seems very much appropriate that his first time venturing into this territory as a director would yield strong results – it may not have been his first film, but it was arguably the most important moment in Visconti’s career, not because it’s his best film, but rather since it serves the purpose of making his future masterpieces possible through the creative confidence he undoubtedly received as a result of this stunning film.

However, even when divorced from this particular place in his career, Senso is still a staggering achievement that proves what a gifted filmmaker Visconti was, especially when touching on issues much deeper than the historical context that serves as the foundation. The director had a very particular way of telling stories, using real events as the general setting for his films, but not focusing too much on the intricate details, instead looking at the more abstract concepts, with love being one of the most common. Senso is considered one of the most romantic films ever made for a reason – the backdrop of a violent conflict between neighbouring countries is a clear allegory for the romance simmering between the two main characters, who find themselves falling hopelessly in love, which is only worsened by their position on opposing sides. It’s not quite as clear-cut as this, since Visconti is obviously not satisfied with a simple story of a burning passion, making sure there are some unexpected twists the go into the film, which only prove to further complicate the matters at hand. The incredible Alida Valli already deserves our undying devotion for her wonderful career, but Senso in particular showcases precisely why she is one of the finest actresses of her generation. She embodies the spirit of the ill-fated contessa who sacrifices not only her social ranking, but her entire life, all to pursue a man she soon finds is far from the admirable, dashing hero she imagined him to be. Valli’s penetrating gaze, and carefully-calibrated fury, combined with her ability to showcase a woman woefully in love with a man she knows she can never fully have for herself, makes this a beautifully complex performance that is as riveting as it is utterly heartbreaking. She is the main vessel through which Visconti is exploring this world, and her quiet but impactful performance is a masterful example of how acting can easily transport us to another time and place entirely.

This approach to the story allows Senso to develop far beyond simply a love story set to the backdrop of war. There is a complexity to this plot that makes for a captivating experience, and the manner in which the director weaves together both cultural criticism and deeply sentimental romance, without coming across as overly sentimental or heavy-handed in either regard, is truly impressive and makes for a thrilling film that never lets it’s guard down, only developing into a more enthralling piece of artistry. Visconti could control tone and register in a way that not many of even his most acclaimed contemporaries seemed capable, and it helps convey the deep, unsettling realities faced by these characters. Senso is a neo-realist drama delivered in the form of a lush, sumptuous period romance – but despite the form it takes, there’s a genuine effort being put to exploring the psychological effects of political conflict just as much as there is attention on the cultural milieu that surrounds the narrative. It adds to the multilayered nature of the story, which is oddly never too intent on venturing too deep into the mechanics of war – and while it’s likely that Visconti could’ve made a luxuriant and fascinating film just on the subject of the conflict that serves as the basis for the film, Senso is less about the specifics of these feuding nations, and more on the battles fought by two individuals who find themselves falling in love, and the aftermath that comes when one of them realizes how one-sided this romance actually is, a revelation that serves as an enormous twist in an otherwise precise film, and serves as the foundation for a final act that is as harrowing as it is bittersweet. As mentioned above, Visconti may have shown more proficiency in balancing these concepts later in his career once he had visited these ideas a bit more thoroughly, but throughout Senso, he sows the seeds that would serve as the inspiration for two more decades of incredible work.

The splendour of Senso is almost entirely worth the time and effort all on its own, since Visconti not only tells a stunning story, but also matches it on a visual level. We might be most captivated by the tragic romance at the core of the film, but we’re massively helped along on this journey by the exuberant design that went into this film’s creation. When it comes to Visconti, he spared very little expense when making these historical films, and employs a terrific team of artistic collaborators to work with him in evoking the spirit of 19th century Italy. A film that starts in media res during an opera, and ends with an execution on a battlefield littered with bodies, is bound to be dependent on a very precise visual style – and whether it be through the striking cinematography, as facilitated by G.R. Aldo and Robert Krasker, or the gorgeous costumes designed by Marcel Escoffier and Piero Tosi (with this being only the third film for Tosi, who would go on to become one of the most important artists in his field), there is a genuine sense of effort being put in to not only represent the most gorgeous aspects of Italian society, but also the darker recesses, as reflected in the story itself. Visconti didn’t pass up any opportunity to elevate the material on a visual level, and while this was his first major production on a creative level (his previous three films still being visually stunning, but on a more intimate level, rather than the opulent Technicolor opus that we experienced here), he demonstrated a keen eye for detail, as well as the ability to transport the viewer back in time, so we feel as if we are genuinely observing the affairs of the Venetian high society, rather than reenactments. This is an immense accomplishment that is only made more impressive by how the director merges both narrative and spectacle, allowing them to exist in artistic symbiosis, informing one another and creating a truly engrossing piece of artistically-charged cinema.

It’s a difficult task to make a film that gives viewers the chance to suspend their disbelief and simply surrender to the artistic merits, but Senso truly encapsulates this idea and makes for an unforgettable experience that is as profound as it is gorgeous – but we should expect nothing less from a director as assured in his craft as Visconti. The title of this film is particularly well-chosen – as one can easily surmise, it simply evokes the idea of sensuality, emotion and a kind of visceral longing that is very common in these lavish period dramas, but not explored as intimately as they are here, with the usual pattern being that they function as sub-plots to more socially or politically-charged historical events. This is clearly something that Visconti was in fierce opposition towards, since every frame of Senso comes across as being formed by a director who had a very direct manner of approaching his stories, focusing less on the cultural context, and more on the abstract concepts of love, lust and betrayal, which inform nearly all of his work. A film less about plot, and more about yearning, Senso depends almost entirely on a particular atmosphere, with the director setting a clear but poignant mood that heightens the proceedings, and allow him to effortlessly compose a work that is striking on both a narrative and visual level. We’re drawn into this world, hypnotized by its enticing charms, and compelled to become invested in this ill-fated romance, to the point where we feel every emotion ourselves, as if we are accompanying the main character on this metaphysical journey. It’s a stunning achievement, and all the more proof that the director was one of the most evocative artists to ever work in the medium, so much that even a relatively unheralded work as Senso stands as one of the finest of its era, and a truly arresting, intriguing journey into the past, fashioned as a striking snapshot of a particular era and a glimpse into the lives of the people who populated it, as well as their varying struggles that are all too resonant in a contemporary context, which is all part of why Visconti is a true cinematic iconoclast that had a singular vision and a powerful voice that we’re so fortunate to have experienced.