La Grazia

Translated into English, ‘La Grazia’ can mean either ‘grace’ or ‘pardon’. Both words are key to understanding Italian President Mariano De Santis (Toni Servillo) as he prepares for his term’s end, grieves his beloved wife and weighs up his legacy. On his desk is unsigned legislation that will legalise euthanasia. On his conscience are two prisoners up for clemency after murdering their partners under mitigating circumstances. Finding grace and forgiveness is a journey that writer-director Paolo Sorrentino’s terrific film charts in touching style. 

La Grazia sees Sorrentino at his most sober and sincere, and his doleful muse, Servillo, at his formidable best. The Great Beauty and Loro star is fabulous here. De Santis is a man weighed down by mourning, and the solitude and burden of leadership. Clad in finely cut black suits and drawing on the cigarette with his loyal adjutant (Orlando Cinque) on the presidential palace roof, Servillo cuts through the solemnity with his trademark wry amusement. 

De Santis is a more serious-minded Roman than The Great Beauty’s jaded hedonist Jep Gambardella – a romantic with a forensic mind, forever trapped between head and heart. Only the briefest flashbacks show Aurora, his lost love, but her presence is everywhere, a ghost in the grand palatial corridors through which Sorrentino’s weightless dolly shots glide. He’s a man who can’t let go because he has nothing new to grab onto. Even his dying horse must linger on in this purgatory.

 He’s a man who can’t let go 

His daughter (an excellent Anna Ferzetti) is a gifted jurist who gently pressures him to sign the law and pardon the two prisoners. Italy’s African pope, an old friend, shares hard truths about his age and political obsolescence, before hopping onto his scooter and zipping back to the Vatican. Perhaps to swerve these tough decisions, he embarks on a waspish hunt for the person who slept with his wife 40 years previously, affronting his old friends, the Minister of Justice (Massimo Venturiello), with an accusation in the process.

Sorrentino explores these heavyweight themes with his usual wit and high style – as well as a standout soundtrack of haunting classic cues and Eurodance bangers. Surreal, comedic touches also prick the pomposity of La Grazia’s cloistered world. De Santis grapples with Italian hip hop to connect better with his musician son, spitting bars as a nearby guard side-eyes him, and shares a moment with cameoing rap star Guè Pequeno. 

One moment stands out. As the sound drops out on a satellite link with an Italian astronaut orbiting the Earth, De Santis notices a tear roll from the man’s face and float off in zero gravity. Finally, he’s found the only human lonelier than him. 

In UK and Ireland cinemas now.