Ridley Scott’s Double Standards

Lower Standards, More Fun

Is there any director quite as diverse in genre output as Ridley Scott? Any, anyway, that are recognized as mainstream? I can think of some, sure, but they are rare but I don’t think any are as consistent as Scott in his output, both in terms of regularity (it sometimes seems he just poops movies out) and even if the quality is variable, it’s of a usually decent order. At the very, very least, I can’t think of a Ridley Scott movie that has actively bored me. 

To be sure, I’ve found some tedious to the brink of boring, but I don’t recall ever being thoroughly bored. Even “Gladiator” which left me pissed off that I’d wasted hours on a pointless story at the very least had a scenery chewing performance from Russell Crowe (despite how idiotic the story was) and god, was it gorgeous to look at.

If there’s an issue with Ridley Scott’s movies, it’s never in the visual craft. He evokes worlds and atmospheres like a painter. No, the issues are often found in characterization, editing, and narrative flaws. The worst sins a director can commit are tonal whiplash that doesn’t relate to the plot, flat characters, sluggish pacing posing as depth, hyperactive pacing that poses as plot advancement. I don’t think Scott has ever directed a film that has any of these qualities all the way through. There have been times when he’s come close but he usually saves the piece through utter visual command and that masterful evocation of mood. If that sounds like the triumph of style over substance, it is. I don’t think it’s a crime, though: if you can save a movie from one of the “sins” I just mentioned, then on the balance of things, you’ve done okay. If, however, your goal is to produce style over substance, then you have another challenge; make it so people don’t notice or put it so out front that you and the audience can frankly revel in it and have a good time. 

And that leads us to “House of Gucci”, one of my new favorite films that is so trashy, so vulgar, and so very much fun. Sure, it’s about the demise of a once-great family of fashion, the dissolution of a marriage, and murder, but goddamn it, it’s a whackingly swell flick. This is in large measure owing to the cast and a fleet script plus enough visual flair to keep your eyes glued to the ungluing of relationships and psyches before us. 

Is it a great film? Nope. But I particularly enjoy movies where directors who have a few masterpieces under their belts willingly let their hair down, loosen the belt and drop their pants. 

Where to begin? Patrizia Reggiani meets Maurizio Gucci, a young law student and scion of the Gucci family whose reputation is starting to sag in the late 70s. As played by Lady Gaga and Adam Driver, they read as relatively decent people at first although it’s not long before you see Patrizia scheming and Maurizio buying into those schemes. Before they go all in, we see them forging a genuine bond. I tend to believe she genuinely loved him and he her. Otherwise, his walking out on his father would be meaningless.

And what a walk-out. After meeting Patrizia, Jeremy Irons’ Rodolfo Gucci takes pains to make his son understand that she could be a fun fling but is absolutely not Gucci wife material. Oh, no sir. Maurizio is stung by his father’s dismissal of Patrizia and refusal to hear anymore of his love for her and points out that the old man is ensconced among his own memories, isolated with ghosts of Guccis past and this is not the life he wants. What’s a kid to do?

Why tell the Reggianis that he’s in love with their daughter (well, he tells her father, an underused Vincent Riotta, as it’s the only proper thing to do, after all) and well, he’s been disowned by his own father. 

So the young Gucci goes to work for his soon-to-be father-in-law and at this point, I was pretty happy with the idea that we could have a pretty good rom-com under way. Patrizia’s stalking of Maurizio in the law school’s library was borderline funny but of course, it’s not; it’s the first illustration of how determined she is to get what she wants.  By the time he’s working for her father and they wed (packed with the Regianni family and friends and only a couple of people on the Gucci side of the aisle), I sensed that her attraction to him was genuine and wondered how we were going to get to the Gucci fashion house. Thanks to Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna’s screenplay, I didn’t have to wait long.

Maurizio’s uncle Aldo (holy shit! Al Pacino turning in another late high note of a performance) has read the news and contacts the newlyweds. Now, we see Patrizia kick into high gear. I don’t know how she did it, but Gaga pulled off one of the most guileless beguiling performances I’ve seen in a long time. It’s not just that she’s scheming - I still think that even at this stage, she wasn’t - but that she gets across this woman as one of those who can make a co-conspirator out of you without half trying. Of course, Aldo obviously loves his nephew (while having no use for his own son Paolo, an unrecognizable Jared Leto) and begins to set up the rapprochement with his brother and nephew. It may not quite go as warm-fuzzy as you might think, but then, Aldo isn’t a warm fuzzy guy. Irons conveys a gravely ill man whose remove from change and the present foreshadows his imminent demise. 

The renewed contact comes when Patrizia and Maurizio inform Aldo that he’s a grandfather. They named their daughter Allesandra after Maurizio’s mother. “Whose idea was that?” Rodolfo asks, looking directly as his daughter-in-law. “Mine.” She might as well have added, “of course” because I think it’s here that we see her transition more to full schemer mode. Maurizio, by contrast, seems to be happy to be along for the ride at this point.

It isn’t long before Maurizio is brought into the family biz by Uncle Aldo and the melodrama kicks into high gear. There are betrayals (Paolo, stung by rejection from both his father and his uncle, not being seen as a genius designer - spoiler: he’s not - hands over to Maurizio unpaid taxes by Aldo, a gift to Patrizia to begin the ouster of the old guard; i.e., Uncle Aldo), ambitious scheming (Patrizia convincing Maurizio to partner with new investors to breathe new life into Gucci’s flaccid brand by buying out Aldo and Paolo’s shares…after Aldo has spent a year in prison for tax evasion), flagrant spending and plunging into wanton debt (Maurizio and Patrizia;s assets are seized and Maurizio flees to France to their chateau in the Alps) and then, the plunge into darkness. OH, LIKE THIS HAS BEEN A BRIGHT CHEERY ROMP?

Once in the Alps, Maurizio picks up with his old friend - I swear she’s “just a friend” Paola and others of his circle. Upon arriving, Patrizia sizes up the scene and decides this ain’t gonna fly. Now, I should add that Patrizia has been listening to and cultivating a friendship with a TV psychic, Pina (a Salma Hayek every bit as conniving/convincing as Patrizia; I’d love to see these two in action together again) who has guided Patrizia throughout these increasingly dark days. 

It isn’t long before Maurizio sizes up his wife’s manipulation and grasping ambition while not necessarily recognizing his own. This is one of the points in the film that could have landed more solidly; you know there’s another Gucci shoe ready to drop but the lead-up is inconspicuous and that might be by design but if so, it’s one of the flaws in the movie that could have been avoided by going bigger, more operatic. I’ll stop here for a second to reflect on something about Ridley Scott that is sometimes baffling and a little annoying (and I say that as a fan).

Scott has a definite feel for the broad, the operatic, the over-the-top. You see it in “Gladiator” but you see it more in “Hannibal”, a terrible film but one that can be entertaining nevertheless as an ode to the Italian gialli. Both of those films suffer from stupidity and hamhandedness above and beyond the call of genre. “House of Gucci” does not, but it could use a bit more of the loud and the trashy. It’s not just an uneasy tension between studied character observation in the form of Driver’s and Gaga’s performances; it’s that they’re almost too good for the way the film begins to play out at this point. 

Pacino and Leto get it; or at least, Ridley lets them let loose (Leto goes bigger and dopier, Pacino is frankly masterful at handling this material) to respond to their betrayals at the hands of Patrizia and Maurizio. Driver, in particular, seems to be having a harder time making the shift in Maurizio from quiet, intelligent young lawyer to blinded by an illusory success and hubris and arrogance work. Gaga’s Patrizia maintains a near perfect pitch but maybe that’s the issue; we’ve seen her unraveling bit by bit and then, boom, she goes full-out jealous bitch and then when Maurizio shuts her down and out of his life, it’s almost anti-climactic. In the long run, I suppose that’s okay. We’re not dealing with a masterwork here, just good, trashy, and honest - I hasten to add honest - pulp. I can’t help but wonder, though, what someone with a greater sense of pulp would do with “Gucci”. Tarantino would have a field day with this material.

But because it is pulp, it could be even more fun and the reason I found this flick fun is wholly in what the actors bring to the proceedings. If I were unkind, I would start taking the piece apart for abandoning the whole Reggiani family and disappearing Allesandra. I would argue that plot lines are dropped and return more for convenience or to close up holes than because they are compelling in themselves. But a) I’m not unkind and b) it’s not that kind of movie. This may not be John Waters, but it sure ain’t John Huston.

In any case, Maurizio’s downfall begins in earnest with Investcorp’s buy-out of his shares (thus leaving Gucci with no Gucci family members) and then, of course, his murder.

The plotting of Maurizio’s murder by Patrizia seems to be based in fact, but in execution (sorry), it comes across as a little passionless. Yes, she’s spurned, hurt, and angry as hell, but that offing her ex is her idea seems to come out of the blue until you reflect on her past. It makes sense that she might consider murder as a justice being that she built Maurizio up to where he was able to drive Gucci into the ground, and to be sure, Pina knew who to go to hire for the hit. But the actual plotting (at a spa and before they go to the Caymans) by both women and the meet itself with the hit men could have been a bit more electric. As it was, Gaga and Hayek got a little Thelma and Louise going on but I would have liked a bit more intensity and/or suspense to make the stakes more palpable. As it stands, the lead-up to Maurizio’s impending doom felt a little toothless.

Be that as it may, he meets his end in short order and ere long, we see the conspirators brought to justice. The film wraps up tidily recounting the sentences and noting that Gucci had new life breathed into it by Tom Ford (played nicely by Reeve Carney). 

There were a ton of strong character turns throughout in addition to the main cast. Particularly Jack Huston as Domenico de Sole who took over as Gucci’s CEO. In all, the movie succeeds on the performances and camp when it lets itself go. It sags a bit when it tries for some degree of gravitas. But again, I really found it to be a lot of fun.

Higher Standards: It’s ART, dammit!

In any given year, it’s unusual to see a director release two films so close to each other and I wasn’t really planning on reviewing “The Last Duel” because, well, I just didn’t feel quite moved to. It’s actually a fine film, but suffers from drawn out pacing that mistakes long takes for art. That might seem a quibble and perhaps it is, but it rendered the film overlong by far too much and it’s not the script. 

Nicole Holofcener, Ben Affleck, and Matt Damon deserve kudos for presenting a rich triptych of a singular tale told through three distinct points of view that asks us to consider the nature of truth, factual reporting, and the status of women in fourteenth century France and implicitly critiquing how much has changed in the ensuing centuries. Sound heavy? Yeah, but the movie is up to the task.

Pacing issues aside, once again the performances are on point. And once again, Adam Driver turns in one of his slow-burn turns playing thoughtful, if hedonistic squire Jacques La Gris who has secured a place under the aegis of his lord Count Pierre d'Alençon (Ben Affleck turning in the liveliest performance in the film). Damon as Sir Jean de Carrouges is a study in bullheaded and rather thick comprehension (even in the story as told from his perspective) and Jodie Comer as his wife can do absolutely no wrong. 

In fact, for me, in many ways, the movie blossoms in the third segment told from her perspective. Until that point, Marguerite has been property, object, and cypher. Then comes her part of the story and it’s a doozy. We don’t know what the real Marguerite said or didn’t say to her husband, but much of the book the film is based on is drawn from court records regarding the slight that Carrouges brought before the court of Charles VI. 

I say “slight” as though the rape of a man’s wife is something less than what it is, a traumatic life-defining event. However, in the late 1300s, a woman was not, well, fully human. She was property unless she was a nun or a prostitute. Marguerite was learned and apparently had or was given more cachet than many of her contemporaries, but her husband may not have regarded her as her own person but rather as a prized possession that had been violated by his rival. 

In that third segment, she is depicted as exercising more of her own agency and makes it plain that she is aware that her husband isn’t fighting for her or out of any love for her but for his honor. He also did not make her aware that if he lost his life in the duel, she would lose hers and their son would be orphaned. She challenges Jean on this and tells him that had she known, she would not have pursued her suit nor let him proceed with the duel. 

The first two segments are told from Carrouges’ and La Gris’ points of view respectively. Each starts with more or less the same story of the two men meeting in battle (though in Carrouges’ telling, of course, he’s more heroic and in La Gris’, more reckless and something of a stolid dolt). In each of the tales, each man sounds blindsided by the other’s apparent backstabbing. Carrouges comes to see La Gris as a social climber who cheats him out of land that was part of Marguerite’s dowry. La Gris sees Carrouges as a mendacious liar who uses his wife as a pretext for attempting to ruin his name (which, in the olde days of chivalry, is a supreme insult and of sure damage before society and the Church.) 

La Gris is convinced that he’s in love with Marguerite and in his telling she welcomed his attention (while offering the conventional rebuttal…”no” means yes, you know.) Is he a social climber? Not intentionally or not at first. The count certainly takes a shine to him and they have  enough threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes to ensure their bond. Affleck and Driver’s performances are a rich two-hander in every scene they share. And crikey, Affleck is so good. Driver’s La Gris comes to life with gusto when they’re in the same frame. 

Damon by contrast, is almost alone regardless with who he is with. His world is full of combat, honor, and debt and his marriage to Marguerite is in large part a way out of the latter while lending some honor to her family name, besmirched by earlier misjudgments. Nevertheless, his fortunes turn to ruin after a battle in Scotland and he returns bankrupt. Upon his return, Marguerite tells him she was raped and he challenges Jacques to a duel.

Conversely, in La Gris’ telling, Carrouges is dense and stubborn and can’t possibly understand or love his wife. He grows convinced Marguerite loves him after showing some kindness toward him (she finds him handsome but conceited as we learn later) and rapes her following his misconception. After Carrouges presents the charge of rape, d'Alençon attempts to use his influence, but Carrouges has already petitioned Charles VI to hear the case. At the trial, he lays down the gauntlet and La Gris picks it up, accepting the challenge.

Charles, by the way, is played with as much brio by Alex Lawther as d'Alençon is by Affleck. The king is an idiot, but what an idiot. It’s only a short amount of screen time, but it’s a delicious turn. 

There’s more to be said about the film and its context. However, I’m not really that invested in it. For the purpose of this article, it’s more about a study in contrast within the most recent work of one of cinema’s most storied story-tellers. Do I think “The Last Duel” is a Scott masterpiece? Not quite. It’s a powerful film that is somewhat undercut by a sluggishness that could be avoided with a tighter edit. And frankly, the duel itself drags on forever. Were it not for the goodwill one has for Comer’s Marguerite, I almost didn’t care if Carrouges died. He doesn’t of course, and nor does she. The debasing of La Gris’ corpse and the cries of admiration from the crowd showered upon Carrouges only point up more how little the life of a woman meant, as Marguerite follows behind her husband several horse lengths.

What has been a throughline for me in movies that are adaptations from other, particularly non-fiction sources is how they provoke the desire to investigate the actual events more thoroughly. Thankfully, online resources are plethora and of the two films, I would like to read Sarah Gay Gorden’s “The House of Gucci: A Sensational Story of Murder, Madness, Glamour, and Greed”. I’m not a fashion aficionado, but I do like a good potboiler. 

Interestingly, of the two films, “House of Gucci” is the one that could conceivably lent itself to a more epic treatment along the lines of, say, “The Godfather”. On the other hand, maybe not. I’m not sure that any of these people are possessed of the depth of feeling regardless of how much they talk up the Gucci dynasty and the value of the name. It cries out for a telenovela treatment that Scott almost delivers on. 

“The Last Duel” by contrast, feels sufficiently contained. There is an innate humanity here, even in its failings, that feels lived in and tactile. Unfortunately, a longish running time does not an epic make but I don’t think that’s ultimately what Scott is aiming for. He’s in full thematic command and even if I’m not completely taken by the film, you sense that he is very much invested in the story at hand.

In both cases, it helps that once again, entire worlds are evoked. Dariusz Wolski is the cinematographer on both films and has worked on a number of other Scott films going back to “Prometheus” (a film I’m “meh” on but it is eye-catching). As you’d expect from a Ridley Scott film, the art direction is frankly perfect for each film. Both of these elements are guaranteed the base minimum that if nothing else, his films will hold the attention. 

Filling out the ambience to both films are scores by Harry Gregson-Williams. The soundtracks in both movies add layers of temporal immediacy as you hope they would for period pieces. In fact, Gregson-Williams work on “House of Gucci” was as much a character of the film as any of the people.