House of Gucci
Nobody likes a show-off – and Ridley Scott’s interminable film is full of big, hollow gestures with barely a plausible moment.
Cutting their cloth: Adam Driver, Lady Gaga and Al Pacino
There are some nice threads in Ridley Scott’s House of Gucci. But it needed a better tailor. Top-loaded with talent, the film proves as exciting as its poster: five notable film actors standing in a line-up. Talent alone cannot guarantee a decent piece of cinema. Meticulously coiffed and lovingly mounted, Sir Ridley’s twenty-seventh film is riven with unfortunate choices. On the plus side, the Italian characters do sound Italian – unlike the French ones in Ridley’s last epic, The Last Duel. But the unevenness of the performances, from Adam Driver’s uncomfortable reading of Maurizio Gucci to Al Pacino’s barnstorming creation of Aldo Gucci, robs the film of any human core. One senses that the director saw this as his Godfather, with its echoes of family honour, Italian-American connections, social occasions, palatial interiors, betrayal and crime and the endless running time, but the production design steals the attention in every scene.
Perhaps the most telling line is when Maurizio interrupts his wife’s rambling anecdote about some macaroons with the words, “You’re filling the story full of unnecessary details.” At 158 minutes, House of Gucci is likewise stuffed with extraneous matter at the expense of drama, momentum and human credibility. The key relationship between Maurizio and Patrizia (Lady Gaga – aka Stefani Germanotta) – the romance at the heart of the film – is launched as a whirlwind affair in which there seems no earthly reason why the two should connect. Their courtship is composed in the style of a music video, their burning attraction for each other presented as a given. Quite when Patrizia discovers that her boyfriend is heir to the Gucci fortune is passed over, depriving the audience of what could have been the film’s juiciest moment. It’s like Notting Hill without Hugh Grant’s Will Thacker realising that Julia Roberts’ Anna Scott is a world famous movie star. Yes, Patrizia is depicted as culturally ignorant – she cannot tell a Klimt from a Picasso – but the surname of her beau must have meant something to her at some point.
There are some good lines, but many just as cringeworthy. Patrizia to Jack Huston’s Domenico: “May I ask you a question?” Domenico: “You already have.” As the former, Lady Gaga is good value and there’s a deliciously icy turn from Jeremy Irons as the Gucci paterfamilias Rodolfo. But along with the longueurs, alarming jumps in time and distracting background business, the movie is contorted with dubious judgement. In this particular world, the Italian characters listen to only the most familiar of operatic arias, while the rollcall of hackneyed pop tunes becomes embarrassing, turning the whole thing into a high-end greatest hits showcase (Bowie, Blondie, Tony Bennett, George Michael, Donna Summer…). And quite why Ridley Scott felt the need to cast the lean American actor Jared Leto as a fat, balding Italian (Paolo Gucci) is a mystery up there with the pyramids. Leto has enormous fun with the role, but this is a true-life tragedy, not Saturday Night Live. The overall result is not only trite, camp and ridiculous but, worse, it’s dreadfully tedious.
JAMES CAMERON-WILSON
Cast: Lady Gaga, Adam Driver, Jared Leto, Jeremy Irons, Jack Huston, Salma Hayek, Al Pacino, Camille Cottin, Reeve Carney, Vincent Riotta, Alexia Murray, Gaetano Bruno, Florence Andrews, Ira Fronten.
Dir Ridley Scott, Pro Ridley Scott, Giannina Scott, Kevin J. Walsh and Mark Huffam, Screenplay Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna, from a story by Becky Johnson, Ph Dariusz Wolski, Pro Des Arthur Max, Ed Claire Simpson, Music Harry Gregson-Williams, Costumes Janty Yates, Dialect coach Tim Monich.
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer/Bron Creative/Scott Free Productions-Universal Pictures.
158 mins. USA/Canada. 2021. Rel: 26 November 2021. Cert. 15 .
