I haven't posted in this thread despite seeing it pop up since May because I think this movie is a fucking bore and not worth the energy. But it's Saturday and I'm mad at the world, so what the hell:
I agree with the posters who regard Salo as catnip for academic edgelords. I saw it once - predictably in college. I'll never see it again - not because it's disturbing but because its politics are not so deep as to require another wallow in the shit.
However, the inability of some posters here (or is it just one persistent poster?) to delineate satire from pornography/the literal from metaphor is a pretty harrowing example of the decline of media literacy and public debate.
Here's the thing about the Marquis de Sade in general: his erotic fantasies are juvenile and absurd. If he were alive and (un)well today, he'd be writing autistic Hannibal Lecter fanfics at Archive of Our Own. It sure as hell isn't sexy or effectively erotic.
I don't disagree with critiques of the use of some teenaged actors among the cast. It's not 'porn,' no matter how many times you label it as such, but it still creeps me the fuck out.
However, that Pasolini was "showing to the world his most depraved fantasies exploiting and abusing minors" is an absurd allegation. That kind of Twitter-level hyperbole is why people in this thread keep calling you a frau.
Salo is a Marxist satire on the persistence of fascism and exploitation in Italy thirty years after Il duce's death. The shit-eating, for example, is not scat fetish content - It's a heavy-handed political metaphor on the nature of mass-produced food under capitalism (a trip to the grocery store or a look at obesity statistics will demonstrate that we're still eating the same shit), and of political leaders who make us eat their (metaphorical bull-)shit. The 'erotic' content to which you object beats you over the head with how gross and absurd it is. The final burst of violence at the end is perfunctory, stupid, and unnecessary. That's the point - even the worst state violence (extermination camps, Kristi Noem's plastic surgery, etc.) becomes banal once the get you accustomed to it.
These are all salient ideas. Too bad the movie's an empty provocation and a bore. Like a lot of Marxist films, Salo is a dissertation and not a movie. If it weren't for canny promoters hawking its salacious content ("BANNED IN EUROPE!") and for the nature of Pasolini's death, this movie would be an embarrassing footnote.