20.9.13

Everything shines and Rome is a stage (of LA GRANDE BELLEZZA)

Everything shines...
The parties, endless,
the freaks,
the frivolous quotations,
the boredom,
the appalling actress writing a book,
the actor loving Proust,
the lunatic, the poet, the exorcist papal official that only talks cooking books,
the old tv soubrette, the provincial,
the conceptual artist without a concept,
the noble people without wealth,
the nuns,
the ladies,  ...
«O Roma, o morte!», they used to say.
But here everyone is already dead, starting with the japanese tourist that initiates the film.
They all try their best in order to appear alive, they dance, they talk,
but in fact they all know they have “ a devastated life”.  
 Paolo Sorrentino accumulates things and people, annecdotes and masks, in order to offer us a (sacred and profane) representation of the NOTHINGNESS, of Rome,  Anno Domini 2013.
That nothingness to which Flaubert would have liked to dedicate a novel (no subject or context, just style) and to which the ex writer Jep Gambardella has dedicated all his life, becoming “the king of mundains”.
Jep has reached a point in his life when he’s beginning to mourn lost love and missed opportunities. He is a dapper, cultured and dilettantish Roman, always dressed in a fine suit and fine shoes.
 As the film opens, he celebrates his sixty-fifth birthday with a hedonistic party in his flashy apartment which overlooks the Coliseum on one side and a convent on the other.
In his world, the high life meets the low life, writers and thinkers mingle with strippers and models.
 He is a virtuoso of the void.
But he is also the only one knowing for sure that the roman “dolce vita” isn’t even bitter or nostalgical or decadent.
It is just pure vacuity.  
Sorrentino and Bigazzi’s camera seems to be restless.
It jumps in circles, it travels forward, it flies and it captures in its solid squares the characters.
It never tries to arrive anywhere or to multiply. But to keep company, to illuminate the density of a scene...
...and then slides  abruptly towards something else: the flat sea, a silent garden, a statue, a piece of sky.
Why does Jep-Toni Servillo want so much to touch the Great Beauty?
As an epiphany that remained unatteined? That he is unable to record?
So many actors, so many special appearances, so many episodes, so many quotations,  Fellini  but also Scola, sunsets, sunrises and flamingos.
The “so much” and the “too much” are altogether the instrument and the meaning.
The far-too-beautiful rubs up against the overly grotesque.
Quick wit and clever conversation are never far away.
From this nothingness and lack of meaning Jep creates an alibi for his own nullity.
What could take him back, to the initial summits of his life hopes?
A new flash of love for Ramona (a mature sensual woman)?
The quasi real friendship for Romano, as much of a writer as he is?
The decrepit, hyeratique and mute appearance of a “saint” that comes from Africa and looks like Mother Teresa of Calcutta?
There is no Beauty in the splendid Rome of Sorrentino.
Its masters are vulgarity and cynicism, as well as Jeps’.
Who waits for Death as if it meant returning home to the Great Beauty of a sweet and intense love of his twenties…
But over the luminous images of that great beauty, emerges the decline of the African saint.
Her body and her face are tensed in the effort to climb some stairs that should grant her escape from the flames of the Inferno…
And to us it looks like the spasm of Death iself…

A moral languor to bring over vertigo.
 And in the background, Roma,
 in summertime.
Beautifull and indifferent.
Like an expired diva.
And yet...
“the journey that we’ve been given
...is all imaginary”....
by g d
“La grande bellezza”, by Paolo Sorrentino (Italy and France, 2013, 142’)

No comments:

Post a Comment