Thursday, July 30, 1998

Fear and Desire in Satyricon

Initially, the consideration of Petronius’s Satyricon imbues in the reader a feeling of depravity; indeed, this feeling may overwhelm all other critical faculties. Yet upon further analysis, The Satyricon reveals itself to be quite exceptional among the early literature of Western civilization. Despite its fragmentary existence, the text proves to be a skilled examination of the lives of three Roman citizens in relation to their Neronian society. It can be interpreted as modern not only in the technical sense, being the first novel extant, but also in its ideological connotations. However, a concrete philosophy does not manifest itself in Petronius’s narration; conversely, the author remains cold and distant from the depraved events he describes, neither condemning nor justifying his characters or their actions. Fellini achieves a similar effect in his screen adaptation largely through the use of dubbing and a camera which does not focus exclusively on the protagonists. The plotting in each medium is extremely episodic and disjointed, and little character development occurs. Thus, the study of any distinct themes in The Satyricon becomes difficult; there remains little in the work save a variety of miniature adventures that allow the characters to react to stimuli. Indeed, it is from their actions that a common philosophy shared by all of the characters emerges: life is to be lived to its fullest as death and suffering are arbitrary. All of the characters seem to have only one motive for their actions: the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. Such a philosophical system has its roots in Epicurianism, yet arguably Petronius is critiquing the corrupt form of the religion as it existed in his day. At a basic level, such an ideology is reflected in a love for life and a fear of death. Both the original text and Fellini’s adaptation read as a prolonged hymn to this surprisingly modern ideology, concepts which have only recently been explored by such thinkers as Sartre and Camus. There are signals in Fellini’s work, however, that such an ideological system does not completely integrate with his own philosophy.

After absorbing the various episodes in which they engage themselves, it becomes clear that every action taken by the main characters—Encolpius and Ascyltus—is performed for self-satisfaction. As Petronius cast Encolpius as protagonist, he is usually depicted as morally superior to Ascyltus, who is frequently distinguished by his beastly appetites. Yet such characterizations are obvious consequences of first-person narration, and should therefore be viewed as the biassed observations of Encolpius. While Ascyltus is frequently attempting to abduct Giton, Encolpius himself cannot be seen as any moral zealot. His corrupt nature can really only be inferred in the text, yet Fellini’s adaptation is not constrained by a first-person narrator and therefore proves to be a more accessible study of Encolpius. Like all of the other characters in the work, he is driven by bodily desires. When he persuades Ascyltus to part company with him to end their incessant fighting, he explains to the reader that such a logical reason was not in fact his purpose, but instead he “wanted to be rid of [his] troublesome chaperone and be back on [his] old footing with dear little Giton” (Petronius, p. 42). Each shares an ultimate motive of survival by any means, and throughout the text they are either stealing or plotting to thieve to achieve some degree of financial success. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that their supposed friendship frequently disintegrates when control over money and Giton is argued between them. Giton himself remains a passive receptor of their attentions, an object or a goal to be achieved, and indeed he appears to be as elusive and transitory to them as money.

Throughout both the text and the film, the majority of the characters display an obsessive passion for the pleasures of life, and in the most immediate manner possible: as Encolpius states, “why put off our pleasures?” (Petronius, p. 42). A lust for life is perhaps best displayed by Petronius’s focal character of the Cena Trimalchionis. There is perhaps no greater display of earthly desires than that exhibited by Trimalchio, a wealthy freedman who engages in nearly every vice imaginable. His life is quite literally the pursuit of excess: as he states in Fellini’s film, “What you least expect, Is often what you get. But fortune waits above, To care for us with love. So take your fill. Drink at will!”; he quotes a similar verse in Petronius (p. 56). His monetary excesses are obvious throughout the section, and require no further illustration than to state that his rise from freed slave to affluent landowner is perhaps the foremost display of a carpe diem philosophy in The Satyricon. The most blatant example of hedonism in The Satyricon is a lust for sexual gratification in every way possible. This pursuit is of course completely understandable, as sex is arguably the most widely available pleasure and is the most immediate metaphor for life-affirmation. Both Petronius and Fellini vividly display the sexual promiscuities of Neronian society. Petronius doesn’t seem overtly critical of the sexual actions that his characters undertake, yet his mocking tone remains evident: while their escapades might not be considered evil, they are certainly worth derision. As Eumolpus describes his term as guardian over a matron’s daughter (Petronius, p. 158), the reader can sense that while Petronius appreciates the old man’s carpe diem attitude, he can only laugh at its implications. Alternately, Fellini extends the Roman period to parallel his contemporary society—the sexual revolution. Throughout many of the adventures, Fellini’s sardonic tone matches that of Petronius. Yet when the protagonists enter the Pleasure Garden, an environment almost painfully contemporary with the late 1960's, the director appears sincere in depicting sexuality in a positive manner. Fellini seems to impress upon his audience that the methods used to cure Encolpius would likely have worked, and that the lack of any positive results is the fault of the protagonist.

The two works are not solely odes to la joie de vivre however. Each provides an identical justification for the philosophy/actions of the characters: one must capitalize on the opportunities of life as death is arbitrary and continually attendant. Images of death are almost continual in Fellini, as he stresses the suffering inherent in life much more than Petronius. Indeed, the setting of the film repeatedly suggests that the protagonists are traversing the underworld. The apartment complex in which Encolpius finds himself in the beginning of the picture is remarkably Dante-esque in its construction. This is especially noticeable when Fellini slowly tilts the camera upward and the viewer is able to see the ‘concentric circles’ of the structure; similarly, through their various ‘rituals’ the inhabitants of the building bear a resemblance to the sinners of Dante’s hell. The director also makes use of the image of the skeleton, a figure found once in Petronius (p. 56; see also note 14., p. 190) and represented in numerous masks displayed in the film. Trimalchio himself plays with a skeleton puppet, an ironic device used by both Petronius and Fellini to display further the millionaire’s corrupt character. Accompanying these images, Fellini stages a variety of horrific sequences throughout his film showing the randomness of human suffering. This continual sub-theme emerges from the background of the film and becomes the primary subject in the temple of the hermaphrodite. In this sequence, the camera focuses on the numerous cripples and invalids, implying that such conditions can befall anyone; indeed, even the “Hero of Quadrafesino” is merely a torso who cannot perform the simplest of tasks unaided. It is in this respect that one can begin to doubt whether Fellini in fact supports the carpe diem philosophy of his characters. While he excludes Encolpius from enduring any true anguish, most of the other major and minor characters in the film are shown to be suffering despite, or perhaps even resulting from, the debauched society in which they live. There are several instances where ‘living-dead’ characters stare out from the scene and towards the viewer, ostensibly as ghosts warning the spectator that despair and death are the true consequences of their decadent environment: a female child staring out from the debaucheries of Trimalchio’s feast is perhaps the best example. Such a philosophy is perhaps a sub-text at best, however, as despite the many references to death in the film, life is ultimately glorified in all its aspects. Death seems merely a prelude to life, as evidenced by the tale of the widow of Ephesus and the villa of the suicides, where Encolpius and Ascyltus engage in an orgy despite the recent tragedy. Similarly, at the conclusion of the film, after having his sexual functioning return to him, Encolpius barely notices the death of Ascyltus, but merely continues with his (newly-potent) life. Metaphorically, the dead are consumed by the living so that they may continue to survive; this is made explicit in both Fellini and Petronius when the legacy hunters are forced to eat the remains of Eumolpus to gain from his will. Due to the fragmentary nature of Petronius’s original text, Fellini’s adaptation conveys more forcefully the continuous nature of life and death.

While the adventures in The Satyricon might seem too random, fragmentary, and arguably too depraved to merit any thematic dissertation, a closer examination of the text reveals a complete and surprisingly modern philosophical foundation upon which these episodes are composed. Each of the protagonists—Encolpius and Ascyltus—as well as most of the secondary characters displays an utter obsession with the pleasures of life, and seize any opportunity to gratify their pleasures. Fellini expands upon this ideology in his film adaptation, justifying it by emphasizing the human impulse of pleasure-seeking in order to avoid pain; the images of death and suffering in the film are at times almost suffocating. The director frequently shows the painful consequences that can result from such an opportunistic lifestyle. Ultimately however, Fellini agrees with Petronius in his celebration of the cycle of life and death.



Bibliography

Fellini, Federico. Fellini Satyricon. MGM/UA, 1969.

Petronius, The Satyricon. Trans. J.P. Sullivan. Suffolk, Great Britain: Penguin Books, 1987.


Supplementary

Petronius, The Satyricon. Trans. P.G. Walsh. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996.