The year is 1797, the setting is France, particularly the remnants of a square nestled between the three arrondissements of central Paris—the remains of the Place de la Bastille. Years earlier, the prison was the victim of the event known as the “Storming of the Bastille”, which led to its subsequent destruction in the struggle for power and equality among the French classes. The last of the French monarchy were severed from the ease and grandeur of Versailles by the guillotine, the French aristocracy vanishing, the pangs of hunger among the tramps in the street fed by destruction, their thirst quenched by blood. Yet, there is one voice that remains, a voice that rings true and steadfast among the ashes of the French Revolution—the voice of the Marquis de Sade.
Known mostly for his shocking works depicting such acts of sadism, degradation, and sexual violence, the Marquis caught attention as a rebellious voice amongst the aristocrats, mostly due to the fact that the premise of his works dealt with the hypocrisy within the Catholic Church—a religion that prides itself on its own suppression of such sexual liberation, yet is immersed in such a hierarchy that sadomasochistic themes come naturally. His novel The 120 Days of Sodom opens in an atypical prose format, then transforms into an ongoing and exhaustive list of such nauseating acts of sexual excess (ironically enough, the work, in its entirety, is etched on a singular scroll, taking the actual form of a list), that the average reader would recoil in both disgust and horror upon first reading. Perhaps the most iconic depiction of a Sade novel was derived from this work and adapted to suit a modern audience by visionary director Pier Paolo Pasolini. The result was his 1976 magnum opus, Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom. The film, which led to a nationwide ban in Pasolini’s native Italy, and ultimately to the director’s assassination, is a comment on the tyranny imposed by fascism and the idea of a human sexuality and the body as a commodity, something that has value only in its use and not in its survival. Set in WWII Italy, under the control of Benito Mussolini, the film was more than just a brutally pornographic depiction of coprophagy and suggestive ephebophilia, it was a reflection on the entitlement of those in power and the luxuries that capitalism brings leading us to inherently separating ourselves into greater than and less than.
Inadvertently, our culture has been a product of such a system of power, where there are always those on top, those who fight back, and those who submit only to live a life within a society where they are, in fact, powerless. With Election Day nearly upon us, there is a chilling realization that Americans could be living in two different worlds, depending on what administration will be in office. The Trump administration, led by a controversial man who flaunts his wealth and his supposed influence, would lead us into a Republican controlled society, possibly a recurrence of the recent Bush administration, and possibly a war if his rhetoric is not tempered and his actions thoroughly calculated and thought out. The Clinton administration, led by a woman who has recently been the subject of various controversies which, to some, make her unfit and unable to perform the duties that come with the presidency, giving way to an era of progressive deals and the promise of responsible choices in the arenas of both foreign and domestic policy. This leaves the American people at large with an uneasy and unsettled feeling, unable to really control the outcome of an election based on the choices of states other than their own, unable to resolve the domestic and foreign issues for they do not have the power and influence to do so, and unable to see into the future to predict exactly what kind of world they will be living in.
The Marquis’ work pertained to the flesh, but did not predict the issues that would arise simply involving the color of flesh, the inequality different races would be subject to, the brutality, the beatings, the submissive roles that black Americans and Latin Americans would be forced into, unknowing, unaware, and unsure as to their survival, their power, and just how they will overcome this gross and malicious inequality. The Marquis, whose works dealt with the inequality that is based entirely on the sexes, could not foresee women in power, unless they were serving men who actively sought that from a woman. In the novel Juliette, there is an interesting concept of a female, surrounded by females, in a place of sexual liberation, which speaks to female empowerment that speaks to the embrace of homosexuality, and to the cruelty of men and the salvation found only within the arms of those who know your troubles. For it is only possible to understand the plight of others when you, yourself, have found yourself a part of that very same plight, where their sorrows are yours as well.
As our lives progress, there is a perversity to our economic system in and of itself, with the national debt rising, yet the voracious appetites of the upper class feeds the commercialism and unnecessary abundance within our economy. This, as well, separates us into those with the power to buy luxuries and those who yearn for that power and would do anything to gain that, the very same power struggle that de Sade tackled in his towering works of prose. These roles that are inherent to such a system are unfortunate, yet we find them necessary, these roles of master and slave, of the supreme and the dominated, and we cannot find a way out of them, for we have always separated ourselves into groups that are greater and lesser, for it is what we must do. There is a power struggle that we always will have, in our hearts, in our homes, in our education, in our society, in our politics, and in our relationships. There is a need for excess, a need to escape and to become greater than our circumstances, to feel we have an advantage over someone else, and that is the horrible truth we have to face in our society.
