By Lida Prypchan
(“Behind the Door,” a film directed by L. Cavani)
Barbara could not bring herself to discuss her fears behind closed doors. This failure brought with it two surprises: one that led to her divorce and another which cost her her life, a link to sleeping with death and a connection between her daughter and the devil. The first time, she found her husband in bed with someone else, cheating on her. The next time, she found her second husband, Enrico, making love to her daughter, 15-year-old Nina, whom he had already seduced at the age of 13, believing him to be her stepfather when he was in fact her father. But for Barbara, deception wasn’t only hidden behind doors. Her own daughter, who considered her a rival, poisoned her, faking a suicide and manipulating her grandmother, managing to blame and imprison Enrico so he could never leave her. Then she locked her grandmother in a room for the rest of her life. Sex for her was just as calculated, she charged brothels percentages to attract customers and Enrico gave this money to the guards to spy on her. Then a young American comes between them, fleeing with Nina to Italy, where they get married. Yet Enrico soon appears in Italy and Nina ends up leaving with him to go to Morocco (where most of the story takes place), which wonderfully embodies the feelings between Enrico and Nina. Indeed, the choice of location is perfect for this passionate and sadomasochistic relationship. Morocco, with its enigmatic silences which only yield before pleasure and money, with its mysterious eyes that follow one through the streets, seducing complicity one time and perversion the next, only to end sadly, icy and inscrutable. This reminds me of the fascination I felt reading “The Alexandria Quartet!”
From the first minute until the last, L. Cavani manages to hold the attention, the suspense, and in a way, the despair of the viewer, since all along the way missing pieces are found which help complete the puzzle. It is undeniable that this production offers moral lessons. The force of habit is one of these; love transformed into a prison by the beast of possessiveness is another. Walking carefully and opening or looking inside doors at the right moment is another. Interestingly, Camus, born in Algeria, which borders Morocco to the west, repeatedly referred to the force of habit in “The Stranger.” Nina, in fact, could not rebuild her life. It had been marked by the kind of life that she led with Enrico where they were already used to hurting each other and then to loving each other. Attempting suicide was just another form of manipulation, which, in the end, was their way of keeping their relationship alive. In the same way, Enrico got used to waiting for her in jail, acting out tragic scenes of jealousy. Her grandmother could not escape from habit either, even growing irreversibly accustomed to living in one single room.
Love (or rather possession), like the prison, translates into itself all the demands that are made “in the name of love”, until the relationship is turned into a cell where only two people can enter because there is only room for two. Nina managed with her Machiavellianism to lock Enrico away in order to feel sure of his love, others convert their home into a prison and still others personify this trap.
The third lesson is that doors should be respected and sometimes it is best not to open them.
This story, from the psychiatric point of view, is about these two psychopathic forms (like father, like son). Aside from this perspective, Enrico and Nina were beyond good and evil, struggling between insanity and madness, bound by a thousand secrets and an unbridled passion that did not respect mothers, grandmothers, laws, or bonds.
The truth is that all this and more can happen because the imagination cannot compete with reality. What incredible things can be seen in this concrete jungle!
