La Grande Bellezza - Die große Schönheit

Deep and elegant mental decadence in nowadays Rome. I did love so much this film, it reminds me some old classic Italian movies. Watching the movie I thought about Marcello Mastroianni, it could have been the perfect actor for this film if this was his movies era. But do not misunderstand me, Toni Servillo is in my opinion the best actor for this movie. Locations are decadent and superb. What I liked so much about this movie is also the rhythm, the pauses and all the surrounding characters that give sense to the whole decadent plot. When the movie ended, I and other people stood up and watched the screen silently. This is a movie that lasts in your mind for a long time. As sadness and emptiness are perfectly mixed in the main character with poetry and sincere joie di vivre, all surrounded with astonishing and unusual views of Rome.

to Felini. to the Rome who remains an obscure legend. to a kind of Visconti universe. to a refuge. eccentric, bizarre, comfortable. a great trip in a well known universe. full of cultural references, in a sort of escapes from yourself in the most profound​ yourself. a magnificent show. or another La bella vita. the same, after decades. but so different for the courage to be itself. a homage and a return. to the old things remaining, always, fundamental.for the extraordinary beauty, for memorable scenes, for a sort of confession of another Giuseppe di Lampedusa, for the scene of meeting with Fanny Ardant, for the venerable nun , for the dose of fascinating freedom.

The Great Beauty is such an unusual concoction of sights and sounds, it's a wonder it works at all. Watching it is like seeing a walking bicycle and realizing, to your amazement, that one can actually ride it.

The movie follows Jep Gambardella, the king of Rome's night life. Jep came to Rome in his twenties, after having written a very promising novel, but 40 years later he is settled as a journalist for a high-class literary magazine. Jep has friends, who are just as frustrated and unsatisfied with their lives as he is, despite having all their red Ferraris and high-rise condos. Together they keep each other company and form a support group of sorts. The presence of other miserable people convinces them it's OK, the life is still worth living and facade is still worth maintaining.

Jep has invested last four decades into becoming the Rome's chief socialite and now he has the power to make party a success or disaster. But there's something compulsive about his pursuit of entertainment and admiration. Like a functioning alcoholic, Jep doesn't enjoy his life, but has no will to change it either. He reminds me of Michael Fassbender's sex-addict character in Shame. At the time of orgasm, Fassbender's expression was not that of pleasure, but of pain.

Soon after his 65th birthday, Jep notes to himself that he no longer can afford doing things he doesn't want to do. Instead, he looks up his old friends, learns more about his now-dead girlfriend who left him 40 years ago and develops a friendship with 41 year old stripper named Ramona. Ramona doesn't try to appear important or intellectual, she seems to exist entirely in the present moment. (That presence of mind has its own price, as we learn later)

One of the appealing things about Great Beauty is that its characters are not aware of how funny they are. The pinnacle of comical absurdity is a 104 year old Catholic 'saint'. She's not official saint yet, we're told, but everyone calls her Santa (Saint) Maria. She looks like a mummy that just walked out of its glass case in British Museum, communicates with animals and at one point parodies the 'stair crawl' from the Exorcist. And yet, at no point the film is making fun of her. Nobody seems to question their sanity when Santa Maria asks a flock of migrating flamingos to rest on Jep's balcony.

Sometimes I think the Great Beauty is making it intentionally difficult for us to get to the story. The opening scene with Jep's euro-trash birthday party lasts several minutes longer than storytelling rules require. The changes between scenes are often abrupt and even stunning, leaving the viewer to fill the gaps. There's no obvious drama or big emotional payoff, as you'd expect from an American movie. And yet, at its core, it's the same old story about a writer who has lost his inspiration and tries to figure his place in the world. I feel sympathy for him and his journey, just like I would in any other film.

Fifty years ago, Toni Servillo wrote a novel. It was praised, won an award, and he came to Rome and got caught up in the party set. He earns a living as an interviewer. Occasionally he is asked why he never wrote another novel, and he offers various, patently untrue reasons. Now his first love, whom he has not seen in more than forty years, has died. He turns thoughtful. He remains amused by the circus of the party set, but shreds their pretensions with a few well chosen words. He is obviously suffering a spiritual crisis, but when he tries to seek advice from a cardinal who is said to be next in line for the Papacy, the man walks away.

The obvious move to compare this to is Fellini's 8½, but I see its roots in Samuel Pepys' dictum that "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." Servillo is not tired of life, but he is tired of this life, and sees death coming for him. He is perfect in the role.

Writer-director Paolo Sorrentino fills the screen with beautifully shot images: the overblown spectacle of the party set trying to amuse themselves, and the quiet beauty of the old Rome, its bridges, the shores, the Colisseum across the street from Servillo's apartment, the remembered image of his first love. It's a rich, beautiful, thoughtful, wistful movie.

This lengthy (142mins) intriguing, complex movie follows the reflections of former novelist, Jem Gambardella (Toni Servillo), as he contemplates his past and current life, a life, it would appear, of lost opportunities both personal and professional.

As a member of the wealthy elite of Roman society, he participates in their empty pastimes; parties fuelled with drink and drugs, bizarre art events and casual sexual encounters with beautiful but soulless women. Gambardella is both participant and observer, watching himself as much as his associates, mysterious animals trapped in the gilded cage that is Rome with all the stunning beauty of its architecture, fountains, sculptures, and paintings.

We are shown a funeral where Gambradella acts out the etiquette he has just been describing to us; a dinner with a cardinal who seems more interested in food than faith; a saintly nun of extreme age mounting a stone staircase on her knees and crawling painfully onwards and upwards towards an image of Christ . . . Everywhere, life presents contradictions, material and spiritual, emotional pretence and genuine feeling, the Eternal City and its mortal inhabitants, . . .

If all this sounds too heavy, everything is carried along by a welter of gorgeous images complemented by music that varies from the ethereal to hefty thumping dance beats. And the actors' performances are never less than utterly convincing.

At one of the parties as the massed participants enter into yet another conga-style dance, Gambardella remarks that 'we have the best trains in Rome because they don't go anywhere.' Everything comes back to where it starts and ends where it began. So in the long final credits sequence we float languidly beneath the bridges of Rome, left to contemplate the setting in which we first encountered the genial but disillusioned Gambardella.

This is an sumptuous, sensuous, fascinating movie which for me at least probably needs more than one viewing to fully appreciate. Don't miss it!

(Viewed at Screen 1, The Cornerhouse, Manchester, UK, 12 September 2013)