Pasolini’s Women & When Female Spirits Battle a Man Made Society

Witches, queens, mothers and prostitutes dominate Pasolini’s films, and it’s no wonder considering his knack for mythology. His heroines are powerful creatures, deeply in touch with their intuition, but often lost in a masculine society: when trying to pursue their goals, happiness or beliefs, they are frequently stripped of their powers, and are tolerated at best. With the release of a new Pasolini Criterion box set, we look back at three of his most enigmatic figures. 

Medea (1969)

Pasolini’s recurring themes of the sacred and the profane come to a head in Medea. Inspired by the ancient Greek myth, it’s the story of the clash that happens between a woman’s spirituality and a misogynistic society that is based upon so-called reason.

Medea falls in love with Jason, kills her brother for him, leaves her homeland to live in his, and bears his children only to be dumped for a younger woman. Jason, meanwhile, has no consideration for her spiritual beliefs. When they finally arrive in his country she feverishly tries to reconnect to her magical powers. She searches in the desert to hear the voices of the sun and the earth but to no avail – she only feels disoriented, losing her connection to her past and what she is made of. 

In the film, the misogyny towards her is rooted in a fear of the untameable woman who does not respond to reason or logic but only understands magic and emotions. Naturally, she needs to be silenced, and the tension between a male, civilised society and her witchcraft escalates. Medea doesn't see any value in their world – it is full of confusing lies and deception to her.

Hurt and abandoned, she burns down her house and kills their children. In an epic scene of intense emotions she furiously plots her revenge, pacing back and forth with her trusted maids by her side, who desperately try to talk her out of it. But Medea never questions her integrity. She doesn’t even seek revenge on Jason’s new bride: she only sends her a bewitched garment which carries all of Medea’s despair. She wants her to feel her misery, the price of her new marriage. Both women become equal through the similar feelings they share.

At the end of the film, when Medea's face is covered in flames, she shouts “nothing is possible anymore!” The statement comes from the depths of her being. She is a woman fully aware of the consequence of her actions – and in particular, the man-made world that forced those actions upon her.

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Mamma Roma (1962)

In Mamma Roma, the titular character leaves her pimp behind and heads for Rome in order to provide a better future for her teenage son. The culture clash between her rural upbringing and the new laws in Rome result in the young man’s death, leaving a desperate mother behind. Mamma Roma possesses a provincial spirit full of physical vitality that stems from her rural upbringing. Anna Magnani, being the only professional actor on set, exudes an overbearing, trembling presence amongst the rest of the cast, elevating her to a higher status, commanding attention. 

Even though she exudes a natural fierceness, however, her personality does not fit into this new, modern city. It’s almost a case of “you can take a girl out of her miserable village but you can’t take the misery out of her”. She naturally stays connected to her primordial rural existence – and as such, she gets caught back into the cycle of circumstances she tried to leave behind. 

Pasolini makes the point that an uneducated, unskilled woman from a rural area is of no “use” in a postwar masculine society – unless she becomes a prostitute, which is exactly what she was running away from. Mamma Roma, in the end, is a tragic story of a woman who dared to want more from life, again showing the extent to which classist and sexist society oppresses.

Oedipus Rex (1967)

In Oedipus Rex (adapted from the Greek tragedy by Sophocles), it is a witch who unleashes tragedy upon a mother and her son – though the mother in question lives freely on her land and is not subject to male authority. It seems ironic that the Oracle, despite foreseeing Oedipus’s future, is unable to see that none of what is to come would happen without her influence. Terrified by her prediction that he will kill his father and marry his mother, he tries to escape his destiny and by doing so, he fulfils it.

“By portraying Jocasta as a selfless queen of her people who ends her life so that her son and husband can live on, Pasolini shows us once again how women must give up their roles of power and retreat, like Medea and Mamma Roma, solely to be birth givers, objectified and ultimately silenced.” 

Oedipus’ biological mother Jocasta is a queen surrounded by tall city walls amidst the shimmering heat of the desert. Her elegance, porcelain skin, crown-like hairdo and high cheekbones give her a mysterious, regal look (she is played by Silvana Mangano). Her royal status allows her to indulge in palatial games yet she and her people become dangerously vulnerable as soon as the foreigner – an unwitting, grown-up Oedipus – enters through those city walls. Cursed by the Oracle’s prediction, he brings a plague to the city, leading to the death of many. By killing an evil Sphinx, Oedipus is rewarded with the queen’s hand in marriage. Innocently believing that her son is dead, she adheres to the laws of the land and willingly marries Oedipus. 

As queen she is dressed in heavy royal garments, often in white, held together by large metal brooches and clasps. Sex is always initiated by Oedipus and depicted as an almost religious procedure on an altar-esque bed, we inevitably get the feeling that this is the terminal act of this liaison: The Oracle’s prediction has been fulfilled. 

When Jocasta realises their rapport, her innocent world is shaken to its core and she is overwhelmed with the brutal profanity that has taken hold of her despite all her efforts to avoid it. She desperately tries to find solace in her past and palatial games but finds no comfort. Tormented and in a final act as queen and mother, she commits suicide to liberate Oedipus and herself. 

By portraying Jocasta as a selfless queen of her people who ends her life so that her son and husband can live on, Pasolini shows us once again how women must give up their roles of power and retreat, like Medea and Mamma Roma, solely to be birth givers, objectified and ultimately silenced. 

Words: Arijana Zeric