Directed by:
Ridley ScottCinematography:
Dariusz WolskiComposer:
Harry Gregson-WilliamsCast:
Lady Gaga, Adam Driver, Al Pacino, Jared Leto, Jeremy Irons, Jack Huston, Salma Hayek, Alexia Murray, Vincent Riotta, Gaetano Bruno, Camille Cottin (more)VOD (4)
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House of Gucci is inspired by the shocking true story of the family empire behind the Italian fashion house of Gucci. Spanning three decades of love, betrayal, decadence, revenge, and ultimately murder, we see what a name means, what it’s worth, and how far a family will go for control. (Universal Pictures UK)
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Reviews (12)
A star-studded mob movie without mobsters in a thoroughly engaging delivery by Ridley Scott. When I wrote two days ago about how much I was moved by Last Night in Soho and how few films manage to do that, I was kind of hoping that House of Gucci would be another one. Fortunately, it was. This riveting saga benefits from a stellar ensemble cast as much as it does from Scott's understated yet thoroughly engaging direction. Lady Gaga will be forever a safe bet for me after this performance, Adam Driver confirms that after John Williams's music he is the best thing the new Star Wars has brought us, Al Pacino is classic Al, obviously happy to get a proper role, and I had a great time watching his art in the cinema again (the "No!" scene is unforgettable). Jared Leto doesn't get lost even under the (excellent) make-up, which is good, Jeremy Irons and Salma Hayek have probably the smallest roles of all, but that doesn't mean they don't rightfully enjoy them. One of the films of the year, hands down.
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It's at once so insanely overwrought and yet so cheap and fragmented that it's reminiscent of a sulkfest in which the creative team lost funding for a project, but still decided to finish it with the help of two hundred and fifty Spanish investors folding themselves into a straw man. This also gives me some uncontrollable sympathy for the film, because (probably wrongly) it feels somehow "resilient". If it weren't for the swift Last Duel, one might even offer to mention that directors in their 80s simply lose a certain visual sense out of complacency (see Wajda, Polanski, Bellochio, or Konchalovsky), such that a film that's called freaking House of Gucci lacks above all else style and elegance. And yet it's helmed by a director who, when he devoted a two-second shot to the seated emeritus mobsters during one court scene in American Gangster, just from their body position, clothing, and layout in the shot screamed that these gentlemen mean business. Here, it's like every once in a while no one really knows what to do, so they deal with it in their own way. Jared Leto, whom no one told he wasn't in a Bruno Dumont film, Lady Gaga aiming for the Proudfoot from Bag End Award (presented at Bilbo's 111th birthday), and the writers ticking off the necessary scenes in a high society life story (crying a single tear, a drunk wife terrorizing her husband, the husband slamming her against the wall). As a result, the film feels oddly artificial (thanks in part to the ugly digital camera) and almost everything in it feels like it's happening for applause. However, you can really see some effort, commitment and directorial ideas, but it all feels oddly disjointed and staged.
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A superficial ride on the cheap tinsel of fashion mafiosi, which wallows in its own pompous chauvinism, but never once gets under your skin. Scott is a great man. For one hundred and fifty minutes he blows out the candles on a birthday cake sovereignly like Aldo, and you'll even forgive the shortness of breath. But when it's all over, you'll feel a little disappointed that a showrunner who wasn't afraid to push the characters through something deeper for eight up to ten hours didn’t take up the mantle.
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When I first saw the ambitious length of this film, it gave me pause. Yet, as the final credits rolled, I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the time seemed to fly by. True, action lovers definitely did not get their fill, but I was satisfied. Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, whom I've never particularly warmed up to due to her music not being my cup of tea, caught me off guard with her wonderful performance. The rest of the cast didn't lag behind either; the script was delightfully unsettling, and thankfully, no one mispronounced the word Lamborghini. This all added up to a decently satisfying watch. Lesson learned: I know I don't need to say this but it still holds true: "Beware of gold diggers!"
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House of Gucci is a moderately entertaining film, though thanks only to the overacting, which can hardly be considered an asset. It’s as if Scott deliberately didn’t keep them on the leash, so as to cause ripples on the stagnant surface of the dramaturgically weak material. For a more dramatic subject (also based on actual events), a more suspenseful narrative and a better “bad guy”, I liked his All the Money in the World a bit better. Jeremy Irons and Al Pacino were the only ones I enjoyed here. And of course Camille Cottin towards the end.
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