Tag: Paolo Sorrentino

The Hand of God

Posted on by victorfraga

In England, Diego Maradona’s goal in the 1986 World Cup semi-final against England was the epitome of foreign cheating, Latin untrustworthiness and a moment that still gets Peter Shelton shirty. In the rest of the world, it was greeted with a wave of schadenfreude. Maradona’s goal was a plucky finger in the eye against the old empire, an act of revenge for the conquest of the Falklands/Maldives – or as old uncle Alfredo in Paolo Sorrentino’s new film The Hand of God calls it: ‘a revolutionary act.’

Maradona was more than a hero to Neapolitans, as Asif Khapadia’s Netflix documentary brilliantly delineated, he was a god. For young Fabietto (Filippo Scotti), the speculation around his imminent arrival is driving him to distraction. And Fabietto has enough distractions as it is. He has a sexy auntie Patrizia (Luisa Ranieri) who along with suffering domestic violence and mental health issues has a Kenny-Everett-like habit of her clothes falling off. In his parents, Saverio and Maria (Toni Servillo and Teresa Saponangelo) he has a pair of comedians who love practical jokes and juggling oranges. He has a brother who is trying out for the new Fellini film and school to finish, but above all he has the possibility that Diego Maradona might be coming to Napoli.

All of these are depicted with Sorrentino’s characteristic verve for caricature. A fat aunt sits eating whole mozzarellas dressed in a fur coat and spouting foul language to the amusement of the family. There’s an unremitting and at times grating vitality to everything, but this comes to an abrupt and tragic end, halfway through the film. The event is based on a real life family tragedy and it soon becomes clear that the film sits firmly in the tradition of Italian autobiography and to some degree nostalgia: films like Giuseppe Tornatore’s Nuovo Cinema Paradiso and Federico Fellini’s Amarcord. The latter is the ghost at every Italian director’s banquet. If he were to do a Yesterday, I honestly wonder what would remain of contemporary Italian cinema. He even gets an offscreen cameo.

The problem is Federico Fellini had taste and Paolo Sorrentino doesn’t. He loves his shots, but not his scenes; his caricatures but not his characters; sentiment but not emotion; he loves nipples more than he loves sex. Following great personal tragedy, the film becomes a Bildungsroman as Fabieto struggles to find his way past loss and into film directing. This despite the fact that other than an unwatched video cassette of Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America (1984), he’s not shown any particular interest in film beyond feeling that ‘reality is disgusting’. The worship of Maradona likewise gets shunted off as Fabieto turns off the TV mid game. In the end, we get 15 different endings, any one of which would have done, but taken all together suggest an artist who doesn’t know where or how to stop.

The Hand of God is head and shoulders better than Sorrentino’s most recent films – especially the barely released Loro and the arthritic Youth – and Sorrentino fans will find a lot to enjoy. It will also play well in Italy because there is no doubt that Sorrentino understands and successfully gets under the skin of the confounding and amazing city of Naples. But Sorrentino remains a frustrating figure, unquestionably talented, beguiling at times, but whose florid handwriting barely disguises the fact he has very little to actually say.

The Hand of God premiered at the Venice Film Festival. It shows in October at the BFI London Film Festival. In cinemas on Friday, December 3rd. On Netflix on Friday, December 17th.

Loro

Posted on by victorfraga

The film opens with a fluffy sheep looking into the camera. The sheep wanders off towards a summer house. The sheep enters the living room. The air conditioner adjusts the temperature for human beings, but it is too much for the sheep. The sheep falls down dead, legs splayed on the floor. Italy is the poor, old sheep, fluffy and rather stupid and subject to the wiles of nasty, scheming human beings.

This is the first of a series of striking images of a society gone rotten, obsessed by consumerism, gravitating always to centres of power, using sex and money to get what it wants. A dustbin lorry skids off the road in central Rome, flies through the air, crashes into the old Forum and throws its rubbish everywhere. The rubbish descends and suddenly turns into objects coming down on a frenetic pool side rave organised by Sergio Morra (Riccardo Scamarcio) to impress his most important guest. Silvio Berlusconi. But guess what? Berlusconi doesn’t bother to turn up.

In the Italy of Silvio Berlusconi (Toni Servillo), everyone is on the make. Sex, money, power, entertainment, parties are what get you somewhere and even if the main player doesn’t turn up, what does that matter? At least, you had fun. “The left doesn’t understand me,” Berlusconi says to his personal assistant. “Dottore, you give people what they thirst for.” Democracy is a marketing opportunity. This is the key to Berlusconi and populist politics.

Yet, despite all the power and money, it is all pointless and pathetic. Berlusconi sits on a bed and attempts to seduce a girl called Stella. She turns him down flat and says that his breath smells. It is just an old man’s breath like her grandfather’s. Berlusconi is just an old man and she couldn’t care less. His wife Veronica (Elena Sofia Ricci) is bored by him and loses herself in books and exotic holidays and eventually wants to divorce him. He claims that he has a “volcano” in his garden to amuse his guests but, in fact, it is just a toy volcano that lights up and makes silly noises.

This is a film made with verve and panache. The “sceneggiatura” (production or staging – the Italian word is so effective here) is magnificent in the best tradition of Italian cinema. Toni Servillo’s performance matches the pathetic yet cynical ruthlessness of the old scoundrel with precision. Feminists may wish to avoid this film. It parades and exploits the female body with no shame at. But remember: this is shamelessness is of the man it depicts, and the women themselves are as voracious and ambitious as he is. They know what their most effective asset is, and they flaunt it.

Loro was originally made in two parts for Italian cinemas in Loro 1 and Loro 2 released on different dates. The version available in British cinema is a distillation running for 150 minutes. Some may find this a bit long and the narrative might be a little difficult to fo,llow for those without a detailed knowledge of Italian politics. Nevertheless it is a feast for the eyes. Never have I sat in a cinema where a citizen of a country has exhibited such contempt for his government. They say there is an old Italian saying, “Piove – governo ladro!” – “It’s raining, that thieving government!” Well, it rains a lot in Britain and… do you admire the government?

Loro is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, April 19th. it’s a terrific kick in the balls to populist governments. It makes Michael Moore look like a pussy cat.