Paolo Sorrentino’s Oscar-winning The Great Beauty is an undoubtedly cinematic film. Its grandiose cinematography combined with an incredibly poignant narrative about the life and lost love of journalist Jep Gambardella (Tony Servillo), is one which truly makes use of the range of cinema’s artistic form and ability. Whilst much of its power derives from the surreal and brilliantly crafted ‘day-in-the-life’ episodes experienced by Gambardella, each offering a unique take on a range of subjects from literary culture to the proper etiquette for funerals: as much meaning can also be inferred from its masterful blend of imagery and music.
This is particularly true in Sorrentino’s use of montage sequences which often elevate or highlight specific points or sections within his film. His choices of musical accompaniment in these sequences, working in conjunction with the imagery created on screen, combine to create very specific effects or connotations. Most notably is the montage which begins in a small, uninspiring bar and concludes with the image of the real-world sunken wreck of the cruise ship the Costa Concordia.
The montage lasts only two minutes and yet, in this short amount of time, becomes the thematic focal point upon which the film shifts in tone from its second to third act. The montage is interesting however, for the questions and ideas it raises as opposed to what it reveals or explains. Traditionally, a montage in a film will be used to compress time and/or to cover a number of plot points quickly. Sorrentino’s use of montage in this particular instance within The Great Beauty is far more complex.
Beginning with the sequence in the bar shot primarily in slow motion, Sorrentino shows us Gambardella in a milieu we have not previously seen him within. The bar itself, a cluttered, uninteresting dwelling of both youth and a forgotten generation of older patrons clearly used to spending their days drinking and little else, highlights how out of place Gambardella is within this environment. Having only seen him enjoy the high-life of rooftop parties, fine restaurants and private tours of Rome’s architectural wonders, Gambardella’s presence here, dressed in an immaculate suit, stands in contrast to the bar’s symbolic position as the residence of the common man and woman. As well as the tension created between Gambardella and the bar’s older customers, who whilst obviously of a similar age to the journalist have clearly led more simplistic lives, Sorrentino isolates the character even further through the momentary glance exchanged between age and youth: the younger actor’s facial features being reminiscent of Servillo’s creating a slight mirroring/reflection of the character’s younger self.
Another interesting element of the montage is its use of the English-language song ‘Everything Trying’ by Damien Jurado. Featuring the lyrics ‘I’d call you now, to tell you I’m thinking of you’, the song’s lyrical relevance as a reflection of the lead character’s nostalgia for the past, combined with its crescendo into the chorus, carefully contributes to the full impact of the scene. As the crescendo advances, the sequence moves from the bar into the new lives several of the film’s supporting characters are now experiencing in the wake of their own personal losses. Viola, mother of the disturbed Andrea, sits alone in a room of grandeur and luxury now made both literally and figuratively empty after her son’s death. Equally, the father of the stripper Ramona is left mourning the loss of his daughter: the last reference to the character made in the film. Both these sections as well as the first in the bar all highlight the loss of youth, or relative youth from the perspective of the mourning parents.
The ending of the sequence rests with the very striking image of the Costa Concordia shipwrecked on the coast. With Gambardella standing watch over the wreck, his task as a journalist being to report on what he sees, the composition and role of the character is now fully formed as the observer and recorder of loss: the loss experienced by himself, his friends and the Italian nation. The irony of the Jurado lyric ‘I will sail back to you’ has now fallen into place.
Little dialogue occurs during the montage, and it is only expositional insofar as we learn about Ramona’s death. Equally, the montage is not used to compress time as it is used elsewhere by other films. Instead, montage is used by the director here to group together a collection of thematically related images and ideas in a manner which is both powerful, but undeniably simple. For all its narrative complexity and spectacular scenery, Sorrentino demonstrates that a wealth of information and ideas can be produced and presented through the most minimal, albeit carefully constructed series of cinematic devices and imagery.
Notes from the Multiplex 