Tag: Toni Servillo

HAND OF GOD – Review

(l-r) Filippo Scotti, Toni Servillo and Teresa Saponangelo, in THE HAND OF GOD by Paolo Sorrentino. Photo by Gianni Fiorito. Courtesy of Netflix.

Memory can be a powerful thing. The vivid autobiographical tale from Oscar-winning writer/director Paolo Sorrentino, THE HAND OF GOD is a coming-of-age tale about an awkward teenage boy growing up in 1980s Naples, a sun-splashed, gritty, quirky place where he is surrounded by loving family and colorful characters, a place where the mundane and the magical exist side-by-side. Soccer and cinema are his obsessions but fate or luck – the hand of God – steps in and shapes the direction of his life.

Fabietto Schisa (Filippo Scotti) lives with his parents Saverio Schisa (Toni Servillo) and Maria Schisa (Teresa Saponangelo), older brother Marchino Schisa (Marlon Joubert) and a sister we never see because she is always in the bathroom, sharing an apartment near the the port city’s old harbor. They, and Fabietto’s extended family, are a talkative, entertaining lot, and the teen lives in a world of family and warmth filled with colorful characters, and the striking quirkiness of the place and the time.

Humor and heartbreak suffuse Sorrentino’s autobiographical film. THE HAND OF GOD is a glorious mix of joy tempered with tragedy, a story packed with colorful, out-sized characters, and filled with wild tales and warm family ones, all presented through ravishingly beautiful images by cinematographer Daria D’Antonio.

Sorrentino is famous for the bold cinematic style of his films, on full display in his Oscar-winning THE GREAT BEAUTY, IL DIVO and other films. In THE HAND OF GOD, Sorrentino’s most personal film, his usual flamboyant visual style is more muted, to put the focus on the characters. Muted but not absent, as there are plenty of moments of the magical.

An opening scene encapsulates some of the film’s mundane and magical dichotomy, with a sequence where a beautiful woman, waiting for a bus on a busy, nighttime street, is called over by a rotund man in a limo claiming to be San Gennero (Enzo Decaro), the patron saint of Naples. He is offering a ride and a promise to meet the “Little Monk,” a Neapolitan myth, and claims to know her secret sorrow, that she does not have a child. What follows feels like something out of Fellini, until she returns to the real world, dropped off on a dim street.

Reality or fantasy? The beautiful woman is Fabietto’s Aunt Patrizia (Luisa Ranieri), whom he adores. Patrizia is a sad, half-mad woman with an unconscious sexiness, who longs for a child and fears her abusive, jealous husband. Luisa Ranieri is haunting as Patrizia, whose unthinking sexiness and pervasive sadness, touches her sensitive nephew. Memorable characters, touching ones like the aunt or bizarre ones like to scornful mother-in-law who wears her fur coat to a picnic, populate this marvelous film.

And what characters they are, starting with Fabietto’s parents. Teresa Saponangelo is wonderful as the teen’s playful mother Maria, a prankster prone to practical jokes and occasionally juggling. She and Fabietto’s father Saverio, played with charm and dignity by Toni Servillo, are still in love, and whistle to each other in a distinctive way as an expression of that love.

The teen is close to his older brother, played masterfully by Marlon Joubert. Fabietto’s handsome, outgoing brother Marchino longs to be an actor, even trying out for a role as an extra for Federico Fellini at one point, but he seems to lose energy as time goes on. Betty Pedrazzi is marvelous as the Baronessa, the family’s imperious older neighbor. Biagio Manna’s bold speedboat-driving smuggler Armando zooms into the picture and takes Fabietto for a wild ride.

There are crazy scenes and quiet ones, and the story unfolds in a rambling style as does real life. One highlight is a sequence where the extended family gathers for a summer-time picnic, and all manner of craziness happens. The delightful comic sequence has the flavor of a oft-told family tale.

Fabietto is obsessed with movies, soccer and, of course, sex. In the 1980s, everyone in Naples is obsessed with soccer and with legendary soccer star Diego Maradona, who is rumored to be considering a move to the more working class city’s more modest team. At one point, the boy meets a filmmaker, Antonio Capuano (Ciro Carpano), who was Sorrentino’s actual mentor, but not until much later, after a tragic event provides a turning point in the boy’s life. Both the director and the soccer star play pivotal roles in the boy’s life, as he heads towards adult life.

While some parts of this tale are based on real events, the director cautions us that the line is blurred between fact and fiction, This is the world as he imagines it, as he wants to remember it, narrative fiction, not documentary. Fact or fiction, or some of both, THE HAND OF GOD certainly is a marvelous experience, one of the director’s best and perhaps his most accessible.

THE HAND OF GOD, in Italian with English subtitles, opens nationally Friday, Dec. 3 in select theaters, Dec. 10 at Landmark’s Plaza Frontenac Cinema and Dec. 15 streaming on Netflix.

RATING: 4 out of 4 stars

THE GREAT BEAUTY – The Review

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Enough with this “polar vortex”!  After the brutal arctic pounding at the start of 2014 you may very well be in need of a change of venue. If you can’t afford to fly, then indulge in a cinematic tour of Italy, Rome to be exact, courtesy of director Paolo Sorrentino’s love letter to the land of fashion and pasta, THE GREAT BEAUTY. It’s a visual rush of cobblestone streets, drifting canals, and breath-taking art and architecture. As the film opens, we’re watching the sunny cityscapes yawning to life as Japanese tourists are guided through the streets and a ladies’ choir sings heavenly tunes from a tall tower. And then we’re plunged into the partying nightlife. It seems the town is electrified when the sun sets. Dozens of colorfully coiffed and garbed locals of all ages gyrate with no inhibitions to the pulsing music beat. Finally we discover the reason for the celebration: it’s the sixty-fifth birthday of celebrated literary journalist/interviewer Jeb Gambardella (Toni Servillo). He makes his way through the throngs, oogling the ladies, and leading an almost never-ending dance train line. As the sun rises once more we learn that Jeb had written one highly acclaimed novel many years ago, but never got the inspiration for another so he dallies for a high-class magazines submitting articles about conceptual artists. When the typing is done he’s off to more parties, dinners, and high society conquests. But during the quiet times Jeb reflects on long-lost loves and wonders if he can find meaning and true love as the clock of his life quickly clicks away.

Servillo carries the film with an air of old-fashioned charm reminding us of Mastroianni in several Fellini classics fifty years ago, even as his constant chain-smoking becomes annoying (never wakes up with a hacking cough…really?!!). The guy is believable as a ladies man thanks, in part, to his impeccably tailored suits (kudos to the costume designers). Trouble is that his character just glides in and out of scenes with very little impact on his way of life. We think he may have connected with an old friend’s aging stripper daughter, but the subplot evaporates and he’s back to square (or party) one. A third act story involving an elderly nun who might be made a saint doesn’t pay off. And too often Sorrentino resorts to heavily made-up grotesque faces screaming into the camera lens during  those big group dance numbers. No noise complaints over there! Fortunately he rewards us with beautiful shots of the statues and fountains. And Jeb’s lush apartment has a great view of the coliseum, plus one’s of his pals has the keys to some incredible hidden-away art galleries. THE GREAT BEAUTY is indeed a beautiful travelogue of that fabled land across the sea, but it’s a shame that the script meanders in search of a dramatic destination.

2.5 Out of 5

THE GREAT BEAUTY opens everywhere and screens exclusively in the St. Louis area at Landmark’s Plaza Frontenac Cinemas

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Review: ‘Il Divo’

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What constraints should a filmmaker put upon themselves in the act of creating a biographical film? In my opinion, the term “based on a true story” is most fitting. To be “based” on truth is by definition the taking of truth and incorporating creative commentary to produce a work of artistic perspective. That’s a lot of words, so here’s the gist of what I’m saying… IL DIVO is a biographical film that juxtaposes viewpoints outside the boundaries of truth and fiction.

IL DIVO was written and directed by Paolo Sorrentino (L’amico di famiglia, aka FRIEND OF THE FAMILY). It is a film that chronicles the prominent chapters of Italian Prime Minister Giulio Andreotti, who was elected to Italy’s Parliament seven times since 1946. Andreotti, given many nicknames including The Black Pope, Beelzebub and Il Divo, was allegedly and infamously connected to the Italian mafia, indirectly associated with numerous political murders and scandals, yet never once served one day in prison despite several unsuccessful attempts to convict him of wrong-doings. It’s all about who you know.

What the film does that is intriguing is that, while conveying the factual portions of Andreotti’s political career, IL DIVO also blurs the lines between biography and commentary with the use of satire and psychology. Subtle humor is represented in the film when Sorrentino pokes fun at the awkwardly emotionless little gremlin of a man, emphasizing the character’s quirkiness in appearance and mannerisms. The film also attempts to study Andreotti psychologically, seemingly toying at the inner workings of the man.

Sorrentino uses the camera and performance from Toni Servillo as Andreotti to delve into the mind and soul of the character. The film often feels like there’s some attempt to make sense of the man, like research scientists poking and prodding at the exposed brain of an extra-terrestrial. Servillo (GOMORRAH) delivers a fantastic performance, devoid of outward emotion but rich in facial exposition and enunciated body language.

Giulio Andreotti, as depicted in IL DIVO, is the type of despicable character we know we should hate and loath, but we find ourselves strangely accepting the character regardless of the terrible things he has involved himself with. Andreotti considers himself a religious man, both publicly and privately. He is repeatedly quoted as saying he does not believe in chance, but in the will of God. Curiously, this belief of his perhaps perpetuates itself within Andreotti’s mind ever more with each reprieve from justice that he is served.

IL DIVO is one of those rare stories that open the eyes of otherwise unaware audiences to significant figures in history. However, there’s much more to be appreciated about IL DIVO than the historical importance. The film feels, in my opinion, like a mellowed-out Guy Ritchie was possessed by Stanley Kubrick’s spirit and made THE GODFATHER as if Don Corleone was a corrupt politician. Let me break that down. The story and the mood of the film feels similar in many ways to THE GODFATHER, including the character of Giulio Andreotti, whom as it turns out was the inspiration for the fictional Don Licio Lucchesi character from Coppola’s THE GODFATHER PART III.

The carefully constructed and precisely executed staging of the actors and the camera, creating distinct angles and compositions that speak volumes of the character and of the storyteller’s intention are reminiscent of Kubrick’s masterful eye and attention to detail. Likewise, the brilliant use of music that often would otherwise feel out of place is implemented to conjure a slightly skewed or enhanced amplification of a scene. Guy Ritchie is a bit of a wild card here, but there’s the occasional but prevalent use of energetic camera movement and slightly extreme angles that remind me of Ritchie’s unique films.

While applause should not be overlooked for Luca Bigazzi’s (BREAD & TULIPS) cinematography, a moment spent on the music is also necessary, as the soundtrack for IL DIVO is an unexpected pleasure. An eclectic combination of operatic, classical and contemporary music is woven throughout IL DIVO to superb effect.

As much as I praise the film, it is not without flaw. IL DIVO successfully grabs hold and doesn’t let go for the first 45 minutes or so, but somewhere around the one hour mark the film begins to drag at a slower pace through to the end, nearly risking the film’s overall appeal. Fortunately, IL DIVO survives and still garners high recommendation. Besides, the film has received 14 awards, including the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, and an additional 14 nominations. That says a lot.