Il Divo
The uncrowned king of post-war Italian politics, Giulio Andreotti, might be the subject of Paolo Sorrentino’s nominal biopic Il divo, but it is as an incisive portrait of Italian politics in general that it impresses. Unlike Stephen Frears’ The Queen,
in which an icon of power became human through solid acting and a
strong screenplay, Andreotti, a seven-time Prime Minister and senator
for life, remains an impenetrable enigma in Sorrentino’s film, hiding,
like he does in real life, behind a barrage of funnily ironic remarks
and a smoke screen carefully orchestrated by himself and his kowtowing
entourage. The first 30 minutes of the film are pure filmmaking genius
but the remaining 70 minutes might prove rather abstract for those
unfamiliar with Italian politics, though as an allegory of how the
Italian political machine works in general it is still as close to
reality as any film is likely to get. The film is one the Competition
entries at the 2008 Cannes Film Festival.
After presenting a
glossary of terms needed to make some sense of the intricate web of
Italian power politics, Sorrentino hurries away from the conventions of
stuffy political biopics as quickly as he can, using humour (including
a quote from Andreotti’s mother), Fight Club-like camerawork
and editing, explanatory credits that are mirrored or upside down
before finding the right direction, a dryly witty voice over by
Andreotti (Toni Servillo) and a frenetically cut sequence of "natural"
deaths and murders associated at various times with the politician and
his interests. Completely off-kilter and set to blaring punk music by
Cassius, the sequence is a brilliant coup de theatre of a director who
displays a confidence in his abilities like few other contemporary
Italian directors do.
Of
course the momentum of this assault on the senses is difficult to
maintain, and though Sorrentino references it throughout the film, the
narrative enters calmer waters with the introduction of the Andreotti
gang that was part of the seventh parliament headed by Andreotti into
the early1990s. This is where all audiences can witness the general
internal mechanics of Italian politics – with its ties to big
businesses, the Vatican and criminal organisations – but only those
familiar with the names and situations will see something less
abstract. The biting humour of the apparently eternally uptight
Andreotti remains, as does his necessity to take aspirins against his
migraine.
The
latter part of the film is set in a courtroom in Sicily, where
Andreotti was put on trial for alleged ties to the Mafia, and this is
where the film is bogged down by specifics and runs out of steam. It is
abundantly clear from the beginning that the senator is someone who is
a survivor who outlives and outwits all his competitors, but
Andreotti’s triumph here is somewhat muted by having the outcome
relegated to a simple postscript on screen.
Servillo
in his third collaboration with Sorrentino, is serviceable, but since
little attempt is made to really fathom the man behind the mask he is
reduced to impersonating rather than embodying Andreotti. Other
supporting actors are fine, though there are hardly any standouts
(Fanny Ardant makes an appearance as an ambassador’s wife early on
before being dropped from the narrative altogether).
Cinematography
and production design are both top notch, with both cinematographer
Luca Bigazzi and production designer Lino Fiorito clearly relishing the
opportunity to work on a film that is so different in approach from the
straightforward narratives that form the bulk of Italian films made
today. Servillo is almost unrecognisable under the makeup of Vittorio
Sodano (who also designed the makeup for Mel Gibson's Maya epic Apocalypto). Music choices, both classical and more contemporary, are excellent and often played in counterpoint or for humorous effect.
