Venice and Toronto have provided some promising fare for the
forthcoming cinematic year. I will certainly be at the head of the queue for ’12
Years A Slave’ (an intern’s memoir), ‘The Double’ and ‘Sunshine On Leith’ (Life
and times of an Edinburgh pusher) – I can’t wait!
Now: to the good stuff. Few directors get me as excited as
Paolo Sorrentino (cinematically speaking, of course…it’s not that kind of blog)
and so when I heard that he and Toni “Big Tone” Servillo had a new
collaboration I almost got on a flight to Italy just to see it as I feared that
the U.K. distributors would probably not get their act together until 2015 as
per usual. Luckily we only had to wait four months for this cinematic feast and
it was certainly worth the wait.
It tells the story of the self-confessed “King of High
Society” Gep Gambardella, a journalist who has been at the heart of the
decadent Roman party scene for longer that he can remember. Yet he finds
himself in the midst of a crisis following the death of a girl who he had once loved. He is surrounded by every sort of beauty. Whether it be the
splendour of room, the innocence of his first love or the perceived beauty of
the vogue for plastic surgery which has become a badge of honour for those who
have fallen victim to the superficial materialism and numbness of the
Berlusconi era. One of the greatest scenes of the film is an immense party
scene so alive with music and movement that it gave the spectator the impression
of being part of the party. (FYI - Big Tone does a cracking Carra`
impersonation…)
The camera swoops through Gambardella’s Rome in all of its
splendour as if it were a bird in flight yet the reminders of the toxic
mentality which has destroyed all that Italy, and therefore possibly Gep, once
held dear is never far away; the mysterious and phenomenally wealthy neighbour
who is found out to be one of the country’s most wanted criminals, the dank
strip clubs which illuminate the kitch former glory of the Via Veneto and the
hilarious observations of “cross culture” which seamlessly team Proust and
reality TV as potential collaborators. As opposed to much of the, excuse the
term, “shit that floats to the top” of current Italian cinema, the members of Sorrentino’s
cast are fantastic.
Many critics have displayed a tremendous lack of originality
in naming the film “Fellinian” or some such label which is easily thrown around
when a promising Italian film maker appears, in the same way that a French one
would be likened to Truffaut or Godard. I abhor this practice generally as I
feel that it is a) lazy and b) a really cheap way to strip the
director/writer/actor/singer/dancer of their own talent and originality which
almost certainly will take past masters into account but will not have at the
heart of their project the intention to specifically create a project according
to the rules of one of these other artists.
It is a film which takes time to get over. I think I will
see it again at the cinema, where it was intended.
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