Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975)

Francis Trautman and Hadassah Pomegranate were touring the petting zoo in the village of Kafr Al Shams in the Golan Heights when the trouble began.

Specifically Flip Flop was trying to help separate bunnies from snakes in the reptile house; while conversely Graveyard Frank had been trying to decipher which restroom, the one marked with a bunny or a gorilla was right for him. He had given up and was now explaining to a little girl by the fish pond how the Israeli catfish had little payot instead of whiskers. She was asking why the little tref were bottom feeders (and Frank was resisting telling her that they were looking for loose change) when it happened.

Frank looks away from the pool when he hears a commotion at the fence, which was backed up against the Syrian border. A crowd had gathered on the other side and was working at the links with wire cutters. Those milling in the zoo began to yell and high tail it to the exit. Frank scooped up the little girl and shoved her into the arms of a screaming couple coming toward him. I hope those were her parents, he thinks quickly then turns to look for Flip.

It was perfect addition to their trip, already cut short by the jet fuel shortage at Ben-Gurion. It had been initially blamed on the Palestinians (it you followed the tweet-scene) but turned out to be a fuck up by some contractor. By the time it was cleared up it was Shabbat. No travel, of course. But they got in in time for Yom Hazikaron; it was now a leisurely Yom Ha'atzmaut.

Frank spots flip shoving a snake back into its cage. A section of fence is down and 20 to 25 Arabs are streaming through, chanting something or other. Frank doesn’t know or care what it specifically is, it seems angry and that’s all he cares about. Then the rocks start flying. The plan is to grab Flip and get the hell out of al-Dodge before stones turn into Molotov cocktails.

Of course as in many places, there is no lack of IDF about. In the spirit of the holiday, they had no small amount of equipment laid out for demonstration, mostly for the benefit of the kids who’ll all (more or less) be picking up arms in defense of the Jewish state when they reach eighteen. Or the old folks curious to see how the gear has advanced since the Enfield rifles they had been toting in 1948 or the Kalash in 1967. Now it’s noonish and many are lazing in the grass eating kebabs and pita. They drop the grub and grab their sparkly new Tavor bullpups and advance on the scene. To their credit they fire over the heads of the intruders trying to scare them back across the border.  

Frank fights against the tide to the reptile house. As more and more pour through the fence. Given the black head scarves and green, black, red and white flags some carry, tourist Frank assumes they are Palestinians though he’s not sure why they are steaming out of Syria.

The ugly bruiser that stands between him and Flip Flop wears a Code Pink T-shirt (“Arrest the War Criminals”). “Nice shirt” Frank chirps as he brushes past him, too late to notice the brick he pulls out of his satchel and bashes him over the head. Frank is aware of collapsing over a stone wall into the goat enclosure before blacking out.

While out Frank dreams he is…one of the hapless victims in Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1975 snuff-epic, Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom. It’s out on blue ray October 4 so you can catch all the senseless rape and coprophagia in crystal clarity…of course the dismal, muted film stock is really kind of the point of it all but whatever. The stills available online are spectacular.

In any case, some artsy friends had invited them to an advance screening in Tel Aviv at Universitat. Seems the young, much like Pasolini himself, thought they could find some understanding of the fascist horrors of the works of deSade.  If flip flop had any idea what this film was about she would have said, “No.”

Of course, guilt of not telling her (his curiosity was admittedly piqued by the event. After all, who would show and what would they think?) led to the unfortunate dream of violation and depravity.

Frank is a film buff. He get’s what Pasolini was going for. It’s so bleak its almost fitting he was killed shortly after finishing it. Anyway, if you want a bit more lighthearted adaptation of deSade, try Jan Svankmajer’s Lunacy (2007). It still has a little edge, but some whimsical animation to boot.

When he comes to, Code Pink is going through his messenger bag and looking disappointed to find a mess of post cards and a stuffed camel for his nephew. Flip has come behind, when he hears her he turns and begins to stand, but flip delivers a quick right hook. “Layla Tov.” She smirks as he splays out in the dirt. Krav maga is a wonderful-thing.

But Frank better warn her about Salo before she Krav maga’s him.

Later Frank’s head is bandaged, most of the protesters have been herded back into Syria, and a few squadrons are combing the hills for stragglers. He gives a quick sound bite to Mabat which is soon on the scene. Frank doubts you will see any of this on MSNBC.