House of Gucci may not be for everyone, but that’s okay. A strong story with an even stronger lead, Ridley Scott forcibly tears you away from Lady Gaga’s jaw-dropping performance in favour of a more holistic portrait of the family. Sometimes the best medicines are the ones that taste the worst.
What does it mean to be a Gucci? Ridley Scott’s latest dramatization based on ‘true events’ skirts around multiple answers. Does one need the tamed hunger of a spoilt aristocrat, always ready to climb another political rung as dissatisfaction fuels the greedy crusade? Or is the family name bestowed as a gift to those selected to be a part of their inner circle, pledging allegiance to a rich household rather than a wealthy company? Privilege offers many benefits, but it also breeds a blindness to reality. It can be easy to forget that avarice is part of the human condition.
Based on Sara Gay Forden’s book, House of Gucci can quickly be mistaken as the story of Patrizia Reggiani (Lady Gaga): a young Italian woman who isn’t happy with her place in the world, waiting for her own fairy godmother to whisk her away to the promised land. Swap out the wand for a household name and you get Maurizio Gucci (Adam Driver), the socially reserved heir to half of the fashion brand’s throne. Patrizia is calculated in her consistent attempts at romance, Maurizio unable to fend off his wife-to-be’s advances.
Far from humble herself, Patrizia joins the prestigious family, but only by name. So close yet so far, this is where Lady Gaga shines. With the confidence of a woman who has already found success in her ventures, Gaga captures the mix between Patrizia’s awe for all things Gucci and her unquenchable lust for more. Patrizia isn’t like the others. She’s had to earn her place at the table and is ready to hunt for more – she knows she can do better than them, so why shouldn’t Gucci be run by someone who is more than just successor by name?
Lady Gaga’s transition from a wide-eyed pretty face to Lady Macbeth is elegant in its form and brutal in its execution, never losing an ounce of my support. As the Gucci-by-marriage ingratiates herself amongst her new relatives, Scott begins to transition away from the family’s rising star to the family itself, documenting their alien life in their New York open-plan flats and their sleek but respectfully rooted Italian villas. With eccentric-rich blood comes an outlandish dynamic that can only be described as goofy.
Maurizio’s cousin, Paolo Gucci (Jared Leto), for example, sticks out like a sore thumb. Compared to his stylish family, his clothes aren’t just bizarre but distasteful – an opinion that is shared without any concealment. Emotional and unable to handle criticism of any sort, Paolo is always a comment away from a tantrum, etiquette forgotten in the heat of battle. I can see how annoying he can be, but I thrived on all of Leto’s appearances. As the tone ping pongs between serious and silly, I couldn’t help but laugh at the prosthetic laden Leto as I began to grow fond of him. Although the oddest of them all, it is certainly refreshing to find an oasis of honesty amidst a desert of secrecy.
A family man with expensive tastes… Adam Driver. Photo: MGM.That is the alure of House of Gucci. Lady Gaga may steal the show as she works her way up the parasitic chain of power, but it is the family backdrop that holds most of my infatuation. Brothers and equal heads of the family, Rodolfo (Jeremy Irons) and Aldo Gucci (Al Pacino) capture a somewhat disagreeable family standard. Although money has intoxicated their bloodline, both men value their kids more than they value their company. Yes, the Guccis have become complacent in their expensive world, but their old-fashioned Italian mentalities are to never be broken, a sentiment reminiscent of The Godfather, except with a lot less violence.
That isn’t to say that House of Gucci isn’t violent, because it is. The modern family dynasty is bursting with tension, Scott capturing every ounce of humanity (or lack thereof) that they have to offer. There may be the odd song choice here and there, and some Italian accents are certainly stronger than others (once again, Lady Gaga outshines most of her cast mates), but these little creases are easily forgotten as the commanding cast coasts towards a bittersweet climax. It is hard to end a journey satisfyingly when the ride is better than the destination.