A second Pasolini film in a few weeks is a direct contrast to Theorem. Where that felt like a calculated, ordered and indeed theoretical piece of filmmaking, Accattone, made only seven years previously, has a chaotic, rambling feel, reflecting the life of the eponymous protagonist. Accattone is a pimp, and not a very successful one. He comes from a culture where it’s considered undignified to do a day’s honest work. His gang hang out drinking on the outskirts of Rome, in streets where the after effects of the war are still all-apparent. Accattone is both charismatic and unsympathetic, an existential proletarian anti-hero. Pasolini paints an unsentimental portrait of Roman low life which is perhaps stepfather to Coppola’s Godfather. Italian machismo in full flight, with women as second class citizens and a life of crime the only honorable profession. It’s a raggedly brilliant tale, part of a European cinema which, like Varda’s film, was seeking to create characters with greater psychological depth.
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