The Great Beauty: One Thumb Down

Several evenings ago, The Great Beauty was awarded an Oscar for the Best Foreign Film of 2013. My favorite foreign film of 2013, The Past, and several other much-admired works were not in the running.

Figuring that this must be a must-see movie, I went to see for myself the next day.

I prepared by reading reviews, which were very positive.  A number of critics compared The Great Beauty with the finest works of Federico Fellini, high praise indeed.  Manohla Dargis of the New York Times called it " a deliriously alive movie" and proceeded at great length from there.  In the U.K., the Telegraph's reviewer called it "a shimmering coup de cinema to make your heart burst."

Sadly, my heart did not burst.

Here is a brief description of The Great Beauty. It's a spoiler (sort of; not much happens), so if you are planning to go see it, stop here.  Just keep in mind that it lasts a very long 2.5 hours:

The film opens with a long, wild, repulsive celebration that turns out to be the 65th birthday party of its star, journalist Gep Gambardella, who (inexplicably to journalists today) has an impeccable wardrobe, a personal servant and a fabulous apartment overlooking the Roman Colosseum.  Gep published a much-praised novella 40 years earlier and has not done much since.  He is clearly aware of the vapid self-absorption of his group and the triviality of the art events they attend, but he never breaks with them. There are hints here and there that he has memories and regrets, but these are not examined at any length.  His brief attempt in an inappropriate setting to raise spiritual concerns with a despicable cardinal is rebuffed.  The movie's focus then turns to a near-dead saintly nun, aged 105, who admires Gep's early book but refuses to be interviewed by him.  As she crawls, in great pain, up the steps to a crucifixion shrine, Gep gets on with his empty life.

That's about it.

On the plus side, the photography of Rome, the always-appealing Eternal City, is gorgeous.

In fact, literature and film have been portraying rich, detached, world-weary Europeans since the end of World War I, a bloody horror that understandably caused people to distance themselves from their surroundings and their feelings.  It seems possible to me that audiences are so used to this trope, so comfortable with it, that they respond instinctively when it is presented yet another time.

(One note:  The Great Beauty's star smokes cigarettes constantly.  If you are a smoker in a vulnerable stage of recovery, this film would be one to avoid.)