Pier Paolo Pasolini was murdered before his final film even hit theaters. That's not some urban legend or a marketing gimmick. It’s a cold, hard fact that colors every single frame of the movie. When you decide to watch Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, you aren't just putting on a "disturbing horror movie" or a piece of shock cinema. You are stepping into a political minefield that has been banned, seized, and debated for fifty years.
Honestly? It's a miserable experience. Most people turn it off within twenty minutes. But if you're looking for it, you probably already know that. You’re likely trying to figure out if it’s "art" or just high-brow exploitation.
The film is loosely—and I mean very loosely—based on the Marquis de Sade’s 18th-century novel. Pasolini took that unfinished manuscript and dragged it into 1944. Specifically, he set it in the Republic of Salò, a puppet state of Nazi Germany in Northern Italy. It follows four wealthy, powerful libertines who kidnap eighteen teenagers and subject them to four months of systematic, ritualized torture.
It’s bleak. There is no hero. No one is coming to save these kids.
The Reality of Trying to Watch Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom Today
If you're trying to find a place to stream this, you're going to have a rough time. This isn't exactly Netflix "Chilling" material. Most mainstream platforms won't touch it because of the extreme graphic nature of the content.
Usually, the best way to watch Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom is through the Criterion Collection. They did a massive 4K restoration that actually makes the film look... well, beautiful. That’s the trap Pasolini sets. The cinematography by Tonino Delli Colli is lush and symmetrical. It looks like a Renaissance painting, which makes the atrocities happening on screen feel even more repulsive. You can find it on the Criterion Channel or via physical media.
Wait. Why would anyone want to see this?
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It’s about power. It isn't about sex, even though there's a lot of it. Pasolini was a Marxist and a provocateur. He wanted to show how consumerism and fascism treat the human body as a commodity—something to be used, consumed, and discarded. He once said that the "anarchy of power" is the most dangerous thing on earth. When the people at the top can do whatever they want without consequence, this movie is what he imagined the result looks like.
Why This Film Is Banned in So Many Countries
The history of this movie is basically a history of censorship. When it was first released in Italy, it was almost immediately banned. In the UK, the BBFC refused to certify it for decades. It wasn't legally available there in an uncut format until 2000. Australia had a similar "no way" policy that lasted until the mid-2000s.
The reason isn't just the violence. It's the "Circle of Feces" segment. If you've heard anything about this movie, you've heard about that. It’s the moment most viewers break.
But there’s a nuance here that gets lost. Pasolini used chocolate and orange marmalade for those scenes. He wasn't a monster; he was a filmmaker. The actors, many of whom were non-professionals, have since spoken about how the set was actually quite lighthearted. They’d film a horrific scene and then go have pasta together. It’s a strange contrast to the grueling experience of the audience.
The Pasolini Murder Mystery
You can't talk about this film without talking about how Pasolini died. In November 1975, shortly after finishing the film, he was run over by his own car on a beach in Ostia. A 17-year-old "hustler" named Giuseppe Pelosi confessed to the murder, but many people—including Pasolini’s friends—never believed it.
There are theories that it was a political assassination. Pasolini was loud. He was critical of the government, the church, and the mafia. Some believe the theft of the Salò film reels was a lure to get him to that beach. While Pelosi eventually recanted his confession decades later, the truth remains murky. When you watch Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, you’re watching the work of a man who knew he was a target.
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Is It Actually "Art"?
This is the big question. Some critics, like Roger Ebert, famously refused to even give it a traditional review, essentially saying that the film’s "intent" didn't justify the "ordeal." On the other hand, scholars like Michael Haneke (director of Funny Games) consider it one of the most important films ever made.
It’s structured like Dante’s Inferno.
- The Ante-Inferno
- The Circle of Manias
- The Circle of Shit
- The Circle of Blood
It’s a descent.
If you look at the "Libertines"—The Duke, The Bishop, The Magistrate, and The President—they represent the pillars of society. Royalty, Religion, Law, and State. Pasolini is saying that these institutions aren't just corrupt; they are inherently sadistic. They use the bodies of the young to sustain their own decaying lives.
Is it hard to watch? Yes. Should you? Only if you want to see a filmmaker push the medium to its absolute, breaking-point limit. It is the definition of "unpleasant." There is no catharsis. The ending is one of the most cold, detached sequences in cinema history. Two young guards dance together while horrific things happen in the background. Life goes on. The machine of power keeps grinding.
Practical Advice for First-Time Viewers
If you’ve decided you’re going to do this, don't go in blind. This isn't a "disturbing movie challenge" for YouTube.
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- Check your headspace. If you're feeling particularly cynical or depressed about the world, this will not help. It is a vacuum of hope.
- Context is everything. Read a bit about the Republic of Salò before you start. Understanding that this was a real, terrifying historical moment in Italy makes the metaphors land much harder.
- Don't watch it alone. Seriously. It’s a lot to process. Having someone to talk to afterward—even if it's just to say "that was terrible"—is helpful for decompressing.
- Source a high-quality version. Don't watch a grainy bootleg on a sketchy site. The visual beauty of the film is the only thing that balances out the ugliness of the content. If you're going to watch Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, see it as Pasolini intended.
The film serves as a Rorschach test. Some see it as a profound masterpiece about the dangers of absolute power. Others see it as the ramblings of a cynical man who had lost faith in humanity. Both can be true at the same time.
What it definitely isn't is "entertainment" in the traditional sense. It’s an endurance test. It’s a political manifesto written in blood and filth. If you can get past the surface-level shock, there is a hauntingly relevant critique of how modern society consumes people. We just usually do it with a smile and a better PR team than the Libertines had.
How to process the experience
Once the credits roll, most people feel a sense of "Why did I do that to myself?"
The best way to handle the "Salò hangover" is to look at the scholarship surrounding it. Watch the documentary Pasolini Prossimo Nostro. It provides a look at the set and the director's philosophy. It helps bridge the gap between the screen's cruelty and the creator's intent. You'll realize that the film was a cry of rage against a world Pasolini felt was becoming increasingly soulless and mechanical.
If you find yourself genuinely interested in the intersection of philosophy and extreme cinema, look into the works of Catherine Breillat or Gaspar Noé. They follow in this tradition, though few have ever reached the sheer, uncompromising nihilism that Pasolini achieved here.
This is a one-time watch for 99% of the population. It’s a scar on the history of film, but sometimes scars tell the most important stories about how we got here.
Next Steps for the Curious
If you are ready to approach this film, start by securing the Criterion Collection edition, as it includes essential essays by scholars like Sam Rohdie and Italo Calvino that provide the necessary historical framework. Before hitting play, spend 15 minutes researching the Italian Resistance and the Fall of Mussolini to understand why Pasolini chose 1944 as his setting. This context transforms the film from a series of "gross-out" moments into a precise, albeit agonizing, political autopsy. After viewing, avoid the temptation to look for more "disturbing" content immediately; instead, read Pasolini's final interview, conducted just hours before his death, to see the mindset of a man who truly believed the world was ending.