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The clas­sic Ital­ian polit­i­cal dra­ma about the tyran­ny of indus­tri­al capitalism

04 Jan 2023

Words by Anton Bitel

Curly-haired person with side profile view, wearing a green jacket, against a dark background.
Curly-haired person with side profile view, wearing a green jacket, against a dark background.
Elio Petri’s The Work­ing Class Goes to Heav­en remains a sober­ing por­trait of life as a cog in the oppres­sive machine.

Ludovi­co Mas­sa (Gian Maria Volon­té) – known to every­one as Lulù – wakes in a night­mar­ish sweat at the begin­ning of Elio Petri’s The Work­ing Class Goes To Heav­en (La classe opera­ia va in par­adiso, aka Lulu the Tool). It is 4.40am, and he is sur­round­ed by the sound of a clock’s tick­ing and the rhyth­mic snor­ing of his part­ner Lidia (Mar­i­an­gela Mela­to). Lulù’s diur­nal hours too – much like Ennio Morricone’s puls­ing indus­tri­al’ score for the film – are filled with the met­ric rhythms of the fac­to­ry where he labours and marks out his pass­ing life as a pro­duc­tion-line piece worker.

By the time, some two hours lat­er, Lulù has been wok­en again by the morn­ing alarm and brought Lidia her morn­ing cof­fee in bed, he will regale her and Arturo (Fed­eri­co Scrobogna) – Lidia’s young son by anoth­er man – with his the­o­ry that even his own body has a shit-pro­duc­ing machine’ in it, just like a fac­to­ry’. Much lat­er, when Lulù picks up Arturo from school, he will com­ment (twice!) that the boy and his fel­low pupils, pour­ing through the gate, look like lit­tle fac­to­ry workers”.

If Lulù regards both his own body and his adopt­ed son’s school as being like a fac­to­ry, the actu­al fac­to­ry where he toils all day is var­i­ous­ly likened to a prison’, a nut­house’ and hell’, even as Lulù will declare, I’m a machine!” and, after enu­mer­at­ing all his body parts, will express­ly com­pare him­self to an ani­mal. What seems miss­ing from this mech­a­nised view of the world is much room for human­i­ty, no mat­ter how loud­ly larg­er-than-life Lulù him­self may be. For all his irre­press­ibil­i­ty, Lulù’s blue-col­lar sub­sis­tence has ground him down.

This is per­haps best emblema­tised by Lulù’s impo­tence. It is not so much that he lacks sex­u­al dri­ve, as that by the time in the win­try evening he has come home to Lidia he is exhaust­ed from his work, and that the work itself, rhyth­mic and repet­i­tive by nature, con­sumes all of Lulù’s erot­ic energy.

This is made explic­it: for as the work­ers enter the fac­to­ry in the morn­ing, they are greet­ed by a speak­er on the tan­noy telling them to treat your machine with love” and to respect its needs”; and Lulù informs a new recruit that he keeps the right pro­duc­tive pace for his machinework by pic­tur­ing it as the butt of female col­league Adal­gisa Tati (Miet­ta Alber­ti­ni). And off I go,” he says, pound­ing the equip­ment per­cus­sive­ly, One piece, one ass. One piece, one ass. One piece, one ass. One piece, one ass. One piece, one ass.” Here work is a sex­u­al surrogate.

Lulù’s impo­tence marks a broad­er pow­er­less­ness. Hav­ing worked fac­to­ries since he was 16, and now 31 (though look­ing a lot old­er), Lulù is work­ing class but no hero, and has long since resigned him­self to the bump and grind of his job, and to the demands of his dis­tant boss­es. At the factory’s gates he ignores the calls of the unions to organ­ise for short­er hours and more reg­u­lat­ed piece work, or of the com­mu­nist stu­dents for strikes and vio­lent rev­o­lu­tion, and instead uses his skills and expe­ri­ence to work ever faster, incur­ring resent­ment from fel­low work­ers whom the boss­es expect to keep up with his rate of production.

Headshot of a man with curly hair and a pensive expression, wearing a black jacket with a red scarf.

Yet as the open­ing sequence implied, this is a film pre­oc­cu­pied with Lulù’s awak­en­ing – and that will come when he los­es a fin­ger in a work­place acci­dent. Dis­il­lu­sioned by the sac­ri­fice that the fac­to­ry has demand­ed from him, Lulù is drawn to the extreme left and the activism of the stu­dents – until, that is, he los­es his job, Lidia and Arturo, becomes dis­il­lu­sioned once more, and is made to realise, per­haps too late, that there is pow­er in a union.

If these attacks on both the exploita­tive­ness of the cap­i­tal­ist sys­tem and the dis­uni­ty of the left sound like agit­prop, the earthy messi­ness of Lulù’s char­ac­ter – a bad father (but good to Lidia’s son), a phi­lan­der­er, demon­stra­tive, volatile, self­ish – con­founds the film’s pol­i­tics. Indeed, as the (sim­i­lar­ly messy) leader of the stu­dents Marx (Dona­to Castel­lan­e­ta) tells Lulù, Your case is sin­gu­lar. Per­son­al. That’s not what we’re inter­est­ed in. We look at class dynam­ics.” Lulù’s raw indi­vid­u­al­i­ty can­not eas­i­ly be accom­mo­dat­ed by any ide­o­log­i­cal the­o­ry – and while The Work­ing Class Goes To Heav­en is full of con­flict­ing ideas shout­ed through bull­horns, Lulù remains an awk­ward, time-serv­ing mis­fit. When Marx says, Our work is aimed at ignit­ing con­tra­dic­tions”, he might as well be describ­ing Petri’s work too.

I’d be at the table and dream of still being at the fac­to­ry,” says Mil­iti­na (Sal­vo Ran­done), Lulù’s for­mer men­tor who now resides in an asy­lum, sent mad by all the dehu­man­is­ing labour, and by his sud­den real­i­sa­tion that, after years of work on the pro­duc­tion line, he did not have any notion of what he had been help­ing to make or what all his effort was for.

Lulù too, sum­mar­i­ly fired and left out in the win­try cold with no sense of who he is or what his pur­pose is any­more, goes off the rails, bit­ter­ly mut­ter­ing some of Militina’s phras­es to him­self and behav­ing in an ever more unhinged man­ner. Petri may deliv­er him a hap­py end­ing, with Lidia and Albert returned, his job rein­stat­ed, and the unions vic­to­ri­ous, but whether this is real, or just anoth­er madman’s delud­ed dreams of still being at the fac­to­ry, is left very much open to question.

Per­haps, after all, Lulù is about to wake up once more in a night­mar­ish sweat from his vision of pro­le­tar­i­an utopia to a bleak­er, more infer­nal real­i­ty for the work­ing class. As he strug­gles to sleep, and to dream, along­side a woman who chat­ters her teeth at night, Lulù is an improb­a­ble antecedent for Hen­ry Spencer in David Lynch’s Eraser­head, mix­ing real­ism and sur­re­al­ism into an indus­tri­al aes­thet­ic, and won­der­ing whether, for all the insur­mount­able walls, impen­e­tra­ble fogs and icy mis­ery of the work­ing world, maybe in heav­en every­thing is fine.

The Work­ing Class Goes To Heav­en is released on Blu-ray by Radi­ance, 2nd Jan­u­ary, 2023

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