Senso(1954) is an Italian period melodrama, drenched in forbidden passion and sprinkled with history and opera. It’s directed by Luchino Visconti(White Nights, The Damned, Ludwig). Here from Radiance Films is a Blu-ray release of the film, featuring a 2k scan and a mix of new and archival extras.

Set in 1866 Venice during the Austrian occupation of Italy, Countess Livia Serpieri (Alida Valli) finds herself caught between political upheaval and personal desire when Italian nationalists disrupt a performance of Verdi's Il Trovatore at La Fenice opera house. The theatre erupts into political fury, and her cousin Roberto (Massimo Girotti) is revealed as a leader of the rebellion. Livia meets Franz (Farley Granger), and what follows is a forbidden attraction that spirals into a passionate, self-destructive affair, one that will cost Livia everything: her wealth, her reputation, and ultimately her sanity, as the war for Italian unification rages around her.

Right from the off, Senso opens with a lush Italian opera scene, and I'll be honest, my very first thought was, this is going to be a hard watch. Visconti's 1954 classic was his first film in colour, and he absolutely makes the most of it. The costumes alone are breathtaking!

The opera builds to an impressive crescendo before everything descends into chaos; flags and leaflets are flung through the air, threats are hurled, and the arguments erupt in one of the film's most striking opening sequences. During the commotion, Livia meets Franz, and there's an instant pull between them, though not everything about that connection is what it seems. When she later discovers Roberto has been arrested, she goes to her husband, Count Serpieri (Heinz Moog), for help. He refuses point-blank, and Roberto is exiled for a year. Livia, blinded by lust, fails to see that Franz himself played a part in Roberto's downfall.

Livia narrates her own story over the footage, a technique that, for 1954 Italian cinema, was genuinely bold and innovative. It didn't come without its share of criticism either, and it's still a talking point in film studies to this day. As Livia and Franz wander the silent streets of Venice together, the romance takes hold almost immediately, and those Venice scenes are properly stunning. The moon bouncing off the waterways, the darkness of the night, the old buildings standing tiredly to attention,  all of it creates this wonderful, melancholy mood of 1866 that just wraps around you. The daytime scenery is even more inviting. There's a warmth to it, an artistic cosiness that makes you want to step right into the frame, even if some of those crumbling old quarter buildings suggest a neglect that perhaps nobody back then thought twice about.

I'll be straight with you; it took me until around the 23-minute mark to fully give in to the pace of this operatic melodrama. Franz's early fixation with catching his own reflection is clearly Visconti's way of flagging him as a narcissist, though whether he meant it in quite the way we'd understand the term today is another matter. What isn't up for debate is where it all leads. When Livia arrives home one day to find Count Serpieri hurriedly packing up their belongings, predicting war, the devastation on her face is palpable. What follows is a slow, burning story of lust and self-destruction. Franz's charm meant everything to Livia, but to him? She was nothing more than a source of wealth and influence.

For all of Franz's charm, there's a cruelty lurking underneath it that Livia is painfully slow to see. The love bombing leaves her utterly besotted. Even as he drains her dry, she pines, she excuses, she ties herself in knots trying to make sense of a man who was never interested in making sense. Watching her cling to the idea of him long after the reality has made itself perfectly clear is, frankly, uncomfortable viewing.

But Livia is no fool, not really. And when she finally, finally lifts her head from the wreckage he's left behind, she does something irreparable, devastating. Let's just say Franz's comeuppance arrives swiftly, courtesy of the very war he's been hiding behind. Poetic, really.

The special features on this Radiance Films release are a worthy companion to the film, though perhaps best appreciated by those already invested in Visconti's world.

First up is a 2025 interview with critic and fashion historian Matteo Augello, clocking in at nineteen minutes. Augello is knowledgeable and genuinely enthusiastic, diving deep into the historical accuracy of the film's costumes and their references to period paintings. His passion for the subject is infectious, and his insights genuinely help illuminate the meticulous craft behind Senso's stunning visuals.

Next is a fascinating archival gem. A 1969 interview between Visconti and the legendary Maria Callas. Her beauty is immediately striking, and Visconti comes across as warm and animated as he discusses what drew him to her and to opera—a real treat for fans of either or both.

Finally, Carlo Lizzani's 1999 documentary Luchino Visconti,  rounds things out in sixty two minutes, and this one is an absolute must for any Visconti fan or film student. It opens with a selection of snippets from his films before unfolding into a rich collection of contributors, including Claudia Cardinale, Francesco Rosi, Burt Lancaster, and Massimo Girotti, each offering their own piece of the Visconti puzzle. From his love of art and the influences of people from Marx to Brecht, and all those in between. It leans into his architectural passions, his lifelong dreams, his battles on and off set, and the shadow of the Nazi era, all the way through to his death. Film clips are woven throughout, and by the end of it, you genuinely feel like you know the man. Temperamental on set by all accounts, but what a life. What a mind.

It's a tragic, painful film to sit with. I won't lie - I did switch it off at one point and went and read other reviews before coming back to it. But hand on heart, I can appreciate just how revolutionary and beautifully made this is. If you're after action, you'll struggle. But Senso is a landmark of Italian cinema, and Visconti deserves every bit of the praise he's received over the past 70 years. Avid fans of this style of operatic melodrama will rightly give it full marks. Me? A respectful three stars, but what a three stars it is.