The Great Beauty won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film two years ago but completely flew under my radar since I usually pay little attention to Hollywood's self-aggrandizing awards gala that, more often than not, equates commercial success, the best technical achievements that hundreds of millions of dollars can buy, or hand-wringing social message films with great art. I spent countless hours watching every genre film produced in Italy in the 60s and 70s that I could find, and countless more hours watching classics from the greatest Italian directors like Fellini and Antonioni, but I had paid little attention to many recent Italian films. Fortunately, I happened upon Criterion's release of The Great Beauty, and the striking cover photo of the Blu-Ray combined with my personal longing to go back to Rome and aimlessly wander its labyrinthian streets made me immediately choose to watch the film that very night. I was rewarded with an experience that made me fall in love with Italian film and Rome all over again.
The Great Beauty is strongly influenced in style and substance by Fellini but director Paolo Sorrentino (who also created the new HBO series The Young Pope) manages to bring his own vision to this modern take on living la dolce vita in Rome today. Rome has not looked this magical and ethereal on screen since the great Fellini films and, once again, the eternal city is a character if not the star of this film. The human protagonist is journalist Jep Gambardella and the film begins as he is celebrating his 65th birthday. Jep published an acclaimed novel years ago and has been living off the celebrity of that novel since, becoming a fixture of the Roman arts, social and literary scene. Jep spends his nights dancing, drinking and sitting in cafes filled with fellow cynics offering biting commentary on everything and everyone around. However, he has never written another novel, instead earning his way with as little effort as possible by writing about art and the social scene. Through all the parties and gallery openings, café conversations and drinks, Jep and those around him seem to be alienated from each other and society.
Shortly after that 65th birthday celebration, Jep learns that his first love has died. These dual events cause Jep to begin to think about his life and the lost opportunities and the ultimate emptiness of the life he chose. During his nostalgic and melancholy reflections, he wanders around the streets of Rome, or hosts parties at his flat overlooking the Colosseum. The film never succumbs to being dire or depressing even though Jep and his "friends" seem lost in a lethargy or ennui that they have come to accept as their chosen world. Ultimately, Jep appears to regret but accept his choices in life.
The film doesn't preach but offers subtle critiques of modern life and the Roman bourgeoisie social scene through the characters and events portrayed. Particularly with some of the greatest human achievements in art and architecture as the backdrop, the endless procession of nightly parties and esoteric conversations seem ultimately empty and vapid. One particularly memorable scene shows Jep amongst a crowd gathered around an ancient Roman aqueduct to watch a piece of performance art. For the centerpiece of the performance, the artist runs and smashes her head into the aqueduct wall. The absurdity of all this human effort going into such empty gestures is inescapable. This is what the promise of his literary career has become – interviewing someone who smashes their head into a wall for an art magazine.
Sorrentino's camera moves through the party crowds capturing impressionistic images from odd angles and, like Fellini, finds many unique characters and stylized faces and figures staring back. He portrays the often carnivalesque atmosphere of modern life juxtaposed with the ancient, stately city surrounding all this activity. It is this duality that is part of the magical atmosphere of Rome, and that dual personality shines through above all else in this film.
One can see how, surrounded daily by this majestic city, enticed nightly by wonderful parties and interesting people, Jep could lose his ambition and succumb to the easy pleasures. Watching Jep reminisce about his life in Rome is a bittersweet tale that nonetheless balances the melancholy and ennui with the excitement of living la dolce vita. The film ends with Jep contemplating that all this ends in death, but that before that there was life in all its noisy, chaotic beauty. As the camera pans along Tiber at dawn the feeling I leave with is a desire to not let this beauty slip away without making the most of every opportunity.
