The Great Beauty

Paolo Sorrentino affords audiences with ample opportunities to attach the title of his latest film to its contents; in the sumptuously photographed city of modern-day Rome that provides its setting, in the heady mix of high class and low-brow culture that fills its frames, and in its ageing journalist and his many eccentric encounters that become its protagonist and plot, beauty seethes at every turn. Each element – the locale and its architecture, the ancient art and lavish parties, the attractive inhabitants and their amourous encounters – fits the moniker, but also only informs it. For Sorrentino, his ultimate, most exquisite idyll is the performance of life itself.

With co-scribe Umberto Contarello (Me and You), the writer/director encapsulates his statement through the central character of Jep Gambardella (Toni Servillo, Viva la libertà), commencing with his 65th birthday. The ever-indulgent and always superficial celebrations rage, first for the occasion, then night after night as the get-togethers, gatherings, art pieces, and parades of bohemain-esque, wealth-fuelled excess continue. Jep sits at the centre of the repetitive, rhythmic social whirlwind, happy with his hedonistic plight until a reminder of past loves casts doubt on his way of living.

As The Great Beauty (La grande bellezza) unravels, vignettes sketch in the details, switching from one outlandish, unexpected, alluring display to another. Jep argues with pals also past their prime, banters with his diminutive editor, and finds a sliver of contentment in a strip club; later, he wanders through the hidden treasures of his adopted home town, and welcomes a treasured nun into his house. As the episodes pass by in all their elegant yet grotesque glory, the film humourously, heartfeltly relishes the extremeties, not only of the obvious aesthetics, but of things achieved and others left undone. Each segment reveals more of Jep’s journey, and reflects upon his mounting regrets – the girl that got away, the friends out of touch, the children unborn, the book never written, and the life that could’ve been yet never was.

Hot on the heels of his English-language effort This Must Be the Place, Sorrentino’s return to his native country revels in all that makes Rome what it is; indeed, in the search for splendour that beguiles superbly-cast long-term collaborator Servillo as the filmmaker’s screen surrogate, only the rich vagaries of the city can hold the answers. Built upon the assured efforts of Italian Golden Globe-winning cinematographer Luca Bigazzi, his film lingers lovingly over its setting. The contrast of all its treasures and troubles, as populated by the purposeful juxtaposition of the sacred and the obscene, is as stylishly constructed as it is smartly illustrative of the pieced-together narrative.

In a feature that can’t escape the echoes of its obvious predecessors – Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, 8½ and Roma, and Michelangelo Antonioni’s La Notte among them – the combination of city, character and creator proves evocative to the point of intoxication, eliciting a primal, cathartic emotional response. Make no mistake, in its slow assembly, sublime imagery, and thoughtfully fleshed-out central portrayal,  immense magnificence exists within Sorrentino’s cinematic embodiment; the film, in all its fascinating, imaginative, meditative glory, truly is The Great Beauty.

Rating: 4 ½ stars out of 5