“House of Gucci”
Too little Jeremy Irons, too much Jared Leto, but just enough pure acting from Lady Gaga to silence critics who would opine her acclaimed A Star is Born performance provided her musical cover.
For the intriguingly camp House of Gucci, the 2019 Oscar nominee checks her song-and-dance acumen at the door when assuming the role of Patrizia Regianni, wife of the heir to the Italian fashion throne (Adam Driver) – whose assassination she infamously orchestrated. While this more fatally charged I, Tonya-reminiscent narrative backloads staging what its framework and notoriety promises, Gaga’s commitment plays strong enough to perpetuate the possibility of an alternate ending. Through successfully-accented precision, Gaga’s work finds balance in resonating with the film’s dramatic weight and the “memers-in-waiting” alike, without disillusioning either party. In doing so, she also fiends off the understandable threat of being usurped by the eclectic efforts of her veteran co-stars.
As Aldo Gucci, Al Pacino reminds audiences his The Irishman resurgence was no fluke. Moreover, Irons – as Aldo’s brother, Rodolfo – is as cold as ice, but melts far too early; what he accomplished with his fleeting screen time could have been pushed for longer to counteract whatever-the-hell the ever-beyond method acting Jared Leto is doing as Paolo Gucci in this movie. Although, turning everything he utters into a stitch isn’t the worst thing that could happen in a 2-hour, 37-min. true crime saga not made by Martin Scorsese (who was offered the helm, but turned it down).
Expect director Ridley Scott’s second major player of 2021 following The Last Duel to garner considerable awards buzz in the costume and production design departments that came to play ball with stunning fervor; and for Gaga, too, should the film unironically connect on the campaign trail.
“Licorice Pizza”
Due for wide release come Christmastime, Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest is one part a tribute to his own esteemed body of work, and another part subversively optimistic expansion of his oft despair-filled catalog.
As was the case with the artist formerly known as “Marky Mark” leading his Boogie Nights ensemble, Licorice Pizza will be remembered as a certifiable movie-starmaker. Alana Haim was a pop musician. Cooper Hoffman was the late Philip Seymour Hoffman’s untested son. Now, each of them will soon be rewarded their pick of what film projects to plug next based on how their first one paid off.
This is the “PTA” effect; when you put your strengths and insecurities in his hands, he has long-proven the ability to: break your masculinity down to utter vulnerability (Tom Cruise in Magnolia); see your critically underestimated “dumb comedy” moviemaking reputation and raises you a Golden Globe-nominated “how do you like me now?” clap-back (Adam Sandler in Punch-Drunk Love); and, for Haim and Hoffman, turn a pair of cinematic unknowns into the next big deals.
Infectious chemistry defines these two Licorice Pizza leads and their respective, 1970s San Fernando Valley-residing characters – the opposite of foreign territory for PTA and some of his most beloved creations of films past. And what’s most profound here: the instant hypnosis of his audience. Viewers are not encouraged to spend a single second sympathizing with Hoffman’s child actor when he learns he’s outgrown his “cute” phase while auditioning for a TV commercial, because like most at his teen-age, the one thing he’s conditioned to mourn most is an actively unrequited love.
In the film, Alana (Haim) and Gary (Hoffman) jointly relinquish their acting exploits to make splashes in the on-the-rise waterbed industry. Just as PTA’s friend, mentor and filmmaking older brother-of-sorts Quentin Tarantino did with 2019’s ‘60s-set Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, fictional protagonist insertions undergoing a shared pathos in a celebrity-populated area code brings forth delightful crossovers with real-life figures crucial to the period tackled. Run-ins are had with various household names, from The Munsters’ Fred Gwynne (a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it John C. Reilly cameo), to a William Holden pastiche (Sean Penn), mayoral candidate Joel Wachs (Benny Safdie), and even Barbra Streisand’s then-boyfriend, super producer Jon Peters (Bradley Cooper).
Notably, Leonardo DiCaprio turned down playing the latter; however, his father George, a non-actor, appears in a brief role. Could this indicate the A-Lister who also passed on Boogie Nights decades ago will soon finally collaborate with one of the few auteurs he has yet to tangle with?
Here’s hoping Anderson’s first true plunge into the coming-of-age terrain won’t be the first uncharted creative waters he traverses this decade, as the recently-announced, DiCaprio-attached “Jim Jones” – like Licorice Pizza, also for MGM – needs a director.
What could better serve as PTA’s first official “assignment gig” than a movie about a cult led by a charismatic leader, a la The Master?
Any films daring to needle-drop Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” (House of Gucci) and David Bowie’s “Life on Mars” (Licorice Pizza) in both their trailer and the film itself are infinitely worthy of Messenger approval by default, if they weren’t already.
