Dirk Bogarde as Gustav von Aschenbach
in Death in Venice (1971)
I.
For gentlemen of a certain age - let's say over 50 - be they gay or straight, poets, pederasts, or punk rockers still dreaming of the Summer of Hate, the sorry tale of Gustav von Aschenbach [1] remains a crucial warning against vainly attempting to summon up the passions of youth, or cling on to one's looks at the risk of losing one's dignity in the process ...
II.
Gustav von Aschenbach is a small, dark, clean-shaven writer in his fifties:
"His
head seemed a bit too large in comparison with his almost dapper
figure. His hair was brushed straight back, thinning out towards the
crown, but very full about the temples, and strongly marked with grey;
it framed a high, ridged forehead. Gold spectacles with rimless lenses
cut into the bridge of his bold, heavy nose. The mouth was big,
sometimes drooping, sometimes suddenly pinched and firm. His cheeks were
thin and wrinkled, his well-formed chin had a slight cleft."
If he doesn't sound a particularly handsome chap, there's no reason to think him an ugly blighter; he's simply a middle-aged intellectual, conscious of the fact that he's in a terminal state of physical decline.
One day, however, Aschenbach is gripped by a new feeling; "a peculiar inner expansion, a kind of roving unrest, a youthful longing after far-off places". This feeling is "so vivid, so new, or so long dormant and neglected", that it literally stops him in his tracks: "It was the desire for travel, nothing more; although, to be sure, it had
attacked him violently, and was heightened to a passion ..."
And so he decides to take himself off on holiday and books a room at the Grand Hotel des Bains [2] on that tiny island in the Venetian lagoon known as the Lido.
Whilst aboard ship en route to the island, Aschenbach encounters a group of high-spirited young people:
"They
made a considerable fuss about themselves and their enterprise,
chattered, laughed, enjoyed their own antics self-contentedly [...] One, in a bright yellow summer suit of ultra-fashionable
cut, with a red necktie, and a rakishly tilted panama, surpassed all the
others in his crowing good humour."
However, as soon as Aschenbach observed the latter a bit more carefully, he realised with a kind of horror that he was, in fact, an atrocious old man attempting to pass for a youth by disguising himself with cosmetics, prosthetics, and dandyish attire:
"There were
wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. The faint crimson of the cheeks was
paint, the hair under his brilliantly decorated straw hat was a wig; his
neck was hollow and stringy, his turned-up moustache and the imperial
on his chin were dyed; the full set of yellow teeth which he displayed
when he laughed, a cheap artificial plate; and his hands, with signet
rings on both index fingers, were those of an old man. Fascinated with
loathing, Aschenbach watched him in his intercourse with his friends.
Did they not know, did they not observe that he was old, that he was not
entitled to wear their bright, foppish clothing, that he was not
entitled to play at being one of them?"
Later during the journey at sea, Aschenbach again encounters the group of revellers on deck, all happily drinking bottles of Italian sparkling wine:
"But it was repulsive to see what a state
the primped-up old man had been brought to by his comradeship with
youth. His old head was not able to resist its wine like the young and
robust: he was painfully drunk. With glazed eyes, a cigarette between
his trembling fingers, he stood in one place, swaying backwards and
forwards from giddiness, and balancing himself laboriously. Since he
would have fallen at the first step, he did not trust himself from the
spot - yet he showed a deplorable insolence, buttonholed everyone who came
near him, stammered, winked, and tittered, lifted his wrinkled,
ornamented index finger in a stupid attempt at bantering, while he
licked the corners of his mouth with his tongue in the most abominably
suggestive manner."
That's not a good look or appropriate behaviour even for a young man - but for a man of mature years it really is deplorable and depressing. The irony, of course, is that after becoming besotted with a beautiful teenage boy dressed in a sailor suit, Aschenbach increasingly starts to resemble the above.
For when not perving on Tadzio and secretly following him around Venice, Aschenbach spends hours in front of the mirror, staring at his grey hair and the signs of fatigue which plunge him into shame and despair. In an attempt to reverse the signs of ageing, he visits the hotel's barber shop, where he is persuaded to have his hair dyed and to use moisturiser and make-up, so as to freshen up the skin a little.
In addition, Aschenbach "added bright youthful details to his dress, put on jewels, and used perfumes" and - hey presto! - before long he has transformed himself into a flamboyant old queen; his eyes sparkling, his wrinkles smoothed away with lotions and creams, his lips full once more and as red as raspberries ...
Now, at last, he was ready to fall in love without hesitation; for he had been rejuvinated and looked young once more (in his own mind at least).
Sadly, however, Aschenbach never does get to hold Tadzio; for shortly after this he falls victim to the cholera outbreak then sweeping Venice and dies.
III.
Just to be clear: I don't want to perpetuate myths of passivity and
sexlessness when it comes to older people and I don't wish to appear ageist.
However, I do think that one should age with style and good grace and that
means - as Deleuze and Guattari say [3] - extracting the molecular elements,
the forces and flows, that constitute the youth of whatever age one
happens to be, rather than attempting to look and act like an adolescent.
But then, what do I know? It's Gustav von Aschenbach and not me who now has a successful fashion label named after him [4] and maybe even an old fool dressed like a clown is ultimately preferable to some young member of the fashion police dictating what is and is not appropriate attire for every age group.
As Adam Ant beseeched fans young and old in his Prince Charming phase: Don't you ever stop being dandy ... ridicule is nothing to be scared of [5].
Notes
[1] Gustav von Aschenbach is the main character in Thomas Mann's 1912 novella Der Tod in Venedig and, arguably, one of the most iconic figures within modern European literature - particularly after he was played by Dirk Bogarde in Luchino Visconti's 1971 film adaptation of the story (Morte a Venezia).
An English translation of Mann's novella, by Kenneth Burke, was published in periodical form in The Dial in 1924 and then in book form by Alfred A. Knopf the following year, as Death in Venice and Other Stories. There have been numerous editions and several translations since, but Burke's remains an excellent translation and can be read online thanks to Project Gutenberg: click here. All quotations in this post are taken from this e-book (which is why there are no page numbers supplied).
[2] The Grand Hotel des Bains was a former luxury hotel built in 1900 to attract wealthy tourists. Thomas Mann stayed there in 1911 and Luchino Visconti also shot scenes for his film at the hotel. It closed in 2010 and awaits conversion into an exclusive apartment complex.
[3] See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi, (University of Minnesota Press, 1987), p. 277.
Deleuze and Guattari also offer the following remark that those concerned about getting older might like to consider: "There
are times when old age produces not eternal youth but a sovereign
freedom, a pure necessity in which one enjoys a moment of grace between
life and death ..." See What is Philosophy?, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Graham Burchell, (Columbia University Press, 1994), p. 1.
[4] German-born fashion designer Robert Geller established a new line in 2017, named after the protagonist of Death in Venice. Made with Japanese fabrics, the pieces have a pretreated broken-in look and a slightly more commercial price point. Geller chose to name the range after Gustav von Aschenbach because, like the character, he suddenly become aware of his own age, having turned 40 in 2016.
Readers who wish to know more (and see some of the designs) can click here for an article by Nick Remsen in Vogue (10 July 2017), entitled 'Who is Gustav von Aschenbach and What Does Robert Geller Have to Do With Him?'
[5] Adam and the Ants, 'Prince Charming', the number one hit single released from the album of the same title (CBS, 1981): click here for the official video directed by Mike Mansfield and Adam Ant. Whilst I agree with Adam that it's important to display a certain dandyism and rise above ridicule, I really don't think it was advisable for Marco to attempt the look he goes for in this video.
Bonus: click here to watch the original 1971 trailer for Visconti's Death in Venice (now in HD).
This post is for Thomas Bonneville who suggested the idea to me. Thanks also to Maria Thanassa and Catherine Brown for sharing their insights into Visconti's film version of Death in Venice (1971).
