In the annals of cinematic masterpieces, ‘Death in Venice’, originally penned in 1912 by Thomas Mann, stands as a cornerstone. The film adaptation, masterfully directed by Luchino Visconti, continues to captivate audiences. Now, a century later, Guillaume Perilhou delves into the hidden complexities of this haunting tale with his second novel, ‘La Couronne du Serpent’, published by Éditions de l’Observatoire. In a daring move, Perilhou confronts the very maxim espoused by Mann: “It is good that the world only knows the masterpiece, not the origin.” This epistolary novel transcends a mere behind-the-scenes account of the film’s creation. It weaves a discordant chorus of intimate letters from the film’s key figures, including the legendary Luchino Visconti, Bjorg Andersen, the youthful actor who portrayed Tadzio, and Maria Callas. The reader is drawn into the swirling emotions of a troubled, demanding maestro at the zenith of his career. Visconti, once a champion of neorealism alongside Federico Fellini, now finds himself grappling with the weight of his past success and the melancholic beauty of a world on the verge of decay. His gaze, once focused on the struggles of the downtrodden, now consumes the fleeting grandeur of a fading era. Bjorg Andersen, forever etched in our memories as the “most beautiful boy in the world”, finds himself trapped by a fame that arrived too soon. Orphaned and raised by a grandmother who pushed him into acting, his letters reveal a life shattered by his youthful stardom. The novel draws inspiration from the 2021 documentary ‘L’Ange Blond de Visconti’, which explored Andersen’s tormented life after his encounter with Visconti. Perilhou’s novel avoids dwelling on the scandalous, instead focusing on the profound impossibility of self-discovery when one’s image is stolen. At the tender age of 15, Andersen found himself under the watchful eye of Visconti, who, despite his aesthetic predilections, appears to have shielded the young actor from the unsavory attention his beauty attracted both on set and at the 1971 Cannes Film Festival. Yet, even a gaze as discerning as Visconti’s imprisoned Andersen within his desire, shaping him into an image he could never fully escape. Subsequently, subjected to the world’s insatiable gaze, Andersen’s identity fractured. This narrative resonates with the ongoing revolution in the way cinema portrays bodies and its history. Perilhou masterfully shifts the focus from gender to a more profound exploration of power dynamics. The book’s title, ‘La Couronne du Serpent’, is a nod to the Visconti family’s coat of arms, which became the emblem of Milan – a serpent, or dragon, crowned and coiled, holding a child in its jaws. With subtle artistry, Perilhou questions the place of beauty in our world and our relentless urge to possess it, often at the cost of its annihilation. He probes the human condition: Who hasn’t yearned to be chosen by a luminary amidst a crowd of indistinguishable faces? How many geniuses and lamps have warned us about the consequences of our wishes? Furthermore, the novel delves into the enduring significance of literary and cinematic classics. Once finished, the reader is compelled to revisit Visconti’s film with renewed perspective, experiencing it as a testament to the enduring power of art. In the words of Italo Calvino, “A classic is a book which has never finished saying what it has to say.”
The Serpent’s Crown: A Behind-the-Scenes Look at Visconti’s ‘Death in Venice’ and the Price of Beauty
