Few filmmakers could do what Passolini does here: make a Cine-Verte that is at once humanistically bemused, acerbic, and poetic.
Interviewing a wide and random array of Italians of all ages and classes about various aspects of sexuality and gender relations, the director portrays a nation made utterly incapable of addressing the most fundamental aspects of existence due to a kind of addiction to religious reification. Yet, while occasionally admitting anger and contempt towards some of the interviewees, the film's ultimate attitude is one of affirmation for Italy. Indeed, the film troublingly asks, if one does not delude oneself with some kind of spiritual sophistry, is love even possible?
Review of Love Meetings
