DarkImbecile wrote: ↑Sat Sep 04, 2021 2:43 am
From a virtuosic opening shot and gonzo first scene to a more muted, quiet conclusion, Pablo Sorrentino’s
The Hand of God veers between provocation and contemplation, eroticism and familial warmth, surreality and autobiography in depicting adolescence in 1980s Naples. That tonal unpredictability and Daria D'Antonio’s consistently stellar cinematography made this a vivid experience that I was ultimately very happy with, even as I very much expect broader reaction to be very divided. One of the standouts of the festival for me so far, and I’m hoping that it gains Oscar traction as an International Film contender so that Netflix makes the effort to put it into theaters, where the remarkable visuals can really be appreciated.
Aside from
The Young Pope and its sequel, I've never connected too strongly to any of Sorrentino's work until now. What has struck me as rather forced and heavy-handed Fellini-aping melodramatics in the past, is more humbly restrained here in an episodic, loose narrative, inviting us into fragments of memory. Ironically, Sorrentino's strategy of resistance (by comparison, of course- this is in many ways his most "Fellini-esque" movie yet, particularly emulating
Amarcord) and segregating a cohesive plot into pieces, evokes a more emotionally involving presentation- a composite of minute, fleeting moments of laughter, anxiety, acute observation, meditations on loss, low and high spirits, the power of connection- in other words, the formation of a life. It's a film that reminds us that we have a universal commonality in certain broad experiences of feeling, but that we are also all unique in our journeys, and that in sharing our distinctive stories, we can affect others with relational energy.
Many details from Sorrentino's prior works are replicated and woven in here (i.e. the orange juggling from
The Young Pope) and so it's affecting on another level too in hindsight, knowing that seemingly-minor devices of past films were reflective of deeply-significant memories to him. The film is incredibly funny and life-affirming, dares to linger with unconditional humanistic regard towards characters that would be sidelined in lesser works, and portrays dysfunctional family dynamics as equal-parts hilarious, absurd, eccentrically-loving, tragically-acerbic, and collectivistically-empowering. There are surreal adventures that whisk us away at the most unpredictable times (the spontaneous, serene trip with Arma oddly reminded me of
The Beach Bum's episode with Efron!), the willingness to engage intimately with others just as impermanent as joyful euphoria or painful isolation. Arma's reaction, following a declaration of friendship, to coldly shutting down after hearing about our protagonist's trauma, doesn't proclaim that the first charge was false so much as it reminds us that we are all affected differently by triggers, and that the highs of social harmony are transient due to these individualized, confidential boundaries. Similarly, the brother's hug in a late-act scene both strikes a chord of love and also disbands towards his own self-motivated agenda; there is support there, but it's not something that can be relied upon with permanence.
So brings us to the late act interaction with an artist, which inspires freedom of expression from the prison of self, as he bluntly prescribes meaning our surrogate has been afraid to confront about his trauma. It’s a bizarre kind of support- but entirely in step with
The Young Pope’s ethos, yet one simultaneously taken and rejected on the path to self-actualization. Sorrentino needed that push, but he also needed to cultivate his own identity without blindly following others’ advice, and with existential confidence in hope for both sublimating his ingrained trauma into art and looking past that pain, ahead to the spiritual possibilities in the corporeal milieu he's liberated to explore.
Here's to hoping Sorrentino has ascended his more self-indulgent life crises and keeps making films like this. I didn't like
Roma too much, but it was a very personal film that I still respected. This is Sorrentino actualizing an affectingly resonant and authentically raw trip down memory lane, the superior film between the two, and if there's any justice it'll receive the same accolades come award season.
