Final Rating: 3.5/5
In La Grazia, the latest film from Italian director Paolo Sorrentino (Parthenope), Tony Servillo stars as Mariano De Santis, the outgoing president of Italy, as he wrestles with a series of decisions that will define his legacy as a politician. One such decision is whether to sign a bill into law that would allow voluntary euthanasia in Italy, similar to Canada’s Medical Assistance in Dying. Another is whether to extend a final presidential pardon to either of two murderers convicted for very different crimes of passion. Neither situation occupies De Santis’ mind quite as much as the revelation that his recently deceased wife cheated on him 40 years ago. She never told him with whom.
La Grazia builds a fun set of moral conundrums for De Santis, who is depicted as a devout Catholic and an excellent jurist. His ingrained Catholic morals – and regular meetings with the Pope – lead him to view any kind of non-natural death as abominable, while his experience as a judge prevents him from disregarding the nuances of each situation.
Servillo portrays De Santis’s inner conflict brilliantly. He’s a man who seems to never have quite enough time for anything but also doesn’t trust his subordinates enough to delegate responsibility. Critically, De Santis is constantly distracting himself with thoughts of his wife’s affair, the only situation he can’t delegate even a part of, because no one else knows about it.
The film largely consists of De Santis talking with other politicians in and around the presidential palace. The president regularly lands in conversations with his daughter Dorotea (Anna Ferzetti), his Minister of Justice and presidential hopeful Ugo Romani (Massimo Venturiello), and his longtime family friend Isa Rocca (Linda Messerklinger). The supporting cast make a big impression despite little screentime, with Venturiello standing out as a charismatic political actor with no discernible positions other than an ambition to hold the highest office in the country.
Outside of De Santis’ conversations with confidants, Sorrentino builds in several little moments that paint a rounded picture of his character. In one scene, he awards a cohort with an Order of Merit, going through the motions with most of the recipients, but stopping in front of rapper Guè (in a cameo as himself) to recite his favourite rap lyrics at him. One sequence has De Santis on a video call with an astronaut, neither speaking but both slowly unraveling. Multiple scenes simply feature De Santis dancing to trance music late at night.
La Grazia takes its name from the Italian word for “pardon” or “grace.” It’s an excellent pun, referring at once to the presidential pardons De Santis considers, as well as the idea of euthanasia extending “grace” to those dying from terminal illnesses. De Santis himself is a “grace”ful politician, and his wife’s decision never to tell him the name of her extramarital lover was likely a decision done with him in mind – a spouse extending a small “grace” to her husband.
Connecting all these ideas is a sense of finality: when the credits roll, De Santis’ political life will be over, his final act having been to decide the fate of several of his countrymen. Euthanasia, presidential pardons, and the truth are all in their own ways a method of providing relief from a life of torment.
Thank you to Mubi for the screener.
