Paolo Sorrentino
La Grande Bellezza

The concept of "beauty," that pleasant feeling we attribute to things or people through qualities perceived by the five senses, has always been studied and analyzed by philosophy. For Aristotle and Plato, beauty is the "True," for Vico it is the "Fact," for Kant, it is even divided into four categories, each with very different characteristics.

What, then, is the concept of "beauty" according to Paolo Sorrentino, the Italian director who chose this enigmatic title for his new film? Could it possibly be Rome, the Eternal City, wonderfully photographed in the film, a magnificent city like few others, sublime and divine? Or perhaps for Sorrentino, beauty is life itself, passing frantic and impetuous, gifting us with extreme sufferings and, at the same time, unforgettable joys? No, perhaps the "great beauty" is power, that purely human force that allows the opening of the doors to the most beautiful palaces of Rome by candlelight, that allows moving from one party to another, living the night in the most frantic social life, surrounded by politicians, priests, left-wing intellectuals, failed artists, showgirls, strippers, cocaine-addicted nightclub owners, heartless aspiring actresses, and young girls frustrated and dominated by their own parents.

Sorrentino's film is a journey into cinema, a small manual on how to make an excellent film. With its flaws, of course, its excessive length, its presumption, its excessively aesthetic and baroque inventions that end up touching the ridiculous, but still an excellent film. A film perpetually suspended between the absolute masterpiece and the unsuccessful film, giving us surrealism and dreamlike images of Fellini-like flavor, without losing any of the originality of its author. The story that is told seems to belong to distant men, living in the wild nights of the Roman dolce vita, intoxicated by money and sex. But soon, in a careful and almost manic psychological analysis, that same story becomes universal, deeply touching us, almost becoming our story, as if what we see on the screen are images of our lives. Because Jap Gambardella, a 65-year-old writer and journalist, soon discovers that his existence, made of dancing nights and sleepy days, is actually an empty, sad existence, needing to find an important piece to be truly lived. And how many times has it happened to us to feel empty, indifferent to life, powerless because we felt that something was missing? Jap then becomes one of us, a man searching for the "great beauty," which is not power or Rome or life itself, but is the frantic and vital search for that piece that will make us feel truly alive, complete men and women, happy and fulfilled. Jap will find his "great beauty" in a distant, almost forgotten love, hastily consumed in the light of a splendid Moon, with the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks in the background. All of this highlighted by a living monster, whom I personally consider the best living actor in the World, a Tony Servillo who is both acidic and sweet, dreamy and realistic, confident and insecure about his life, courageous and weak.

Will we manage to find our "great beauty" by digging inside ourselves, analyzing all aspects of our life, without prejudices or resentment? Sorrentino tells us it is possible, we just need to search carefully. Also because, as the magician says in the giraffe scene, everything around us "is just a trick."