Paolo Sorrentino re-teams with “The Great Beauty” star Toni Servillo on his latest film “La Grazia,” which opens the Venice Film Festival on Wednesday night. In the multi-layered moral drama, Servillo plays a fictional president of Italy named Mariano De Santis who is conflicted about whether he should sign into law a bill that would allow euthanasia in Catholic Italy.
In “La Grazia,” which can be translated in English as “Grace,” Servillo’s lovable character also contends with other ethical and legal dilemmas. De Santis is a man of great integrity, despite the fact that he sneaks an occasional cigarette that he inhales deeply through his single lung. The president also warms to a real Italian rapper known as Guè.
The film — which is Sorrentino’s 10th feature and his seventh starring Servillo — is produced by Annamaria Morelli for Fremantle-owned The Apartment and by Sorrentino’s own outfit Numero 10, in association with Italy’s PiperFilm. Mubi will be releasing “La Grazia” in the U.S. and other major territories.
Ahead of “La Grazia’s” premiere, Sorrentino spoke to Variety about why, after previously portraying morally dubious Italian politicians Giulio Andreotti and Silvio Berlusconi, he felt the urge to put a positive example on screen.
“Every day in the news we read about decisions made by politicians that stem from impetuosity, show of force and strange twisted ideas about how the economy works,” he says. “Instead of this, I wanted to depict what a politician should be like.”
How did this story — about an Italian president and Catholic widower who faces complex moral matters — germinate?
Unlike my usual approach — I usually start from being influenced by a character — the story stems from a news item I read years ago about [current] Italian President Sergio Mattarella, who had pardoned an elderly man that killed his wife who was suffering from Alzheimer’s. So starting from this, I asked myself what it meant for an individual — the only human who can exercise this power is the president of the republic, not just in Italy, but also in the United States and other countries — to mull over the dilemma of whether or not to pardon a murderer. It seemed to me this was an extremely interesting moral matter worth exploring, especially since, as is often the case in Italian history, this was a Catholic who therefore believed in values related to the sacredness of life.
Immediately afterwards, I also thought that this narrative strand could intersect with another dilemma — whether or not to sign a law on euthanasia. The only type of plots that I find truly compelling are tied precisely to moral dilemmas. The perfect example of this is Krzysztof Kieslowsk’s “The Decalogue” films, because everything in them is centered on a moral dilemma.
There is, of course, a generous dose of your customary irony in the film. The question is: after caustically portraying seven-time Italian Prime Minister Giulio Andreotti in “Il Divo” and Silvio Berlusconi in “Loro,” you’ve depicted an, albeit imaginary, Italian politician who exudes grace and positive values. Has something changed in your rapport with those in power?
The problem with portraying Andreotti and Berlusconi, for me, wasn’t dealing with characters who were negative. Politically, for me, Berlusconi was. And so was Andreotti, in part. But that’s neither here nor there. There is a common thread between the three films that regards how their protagonist’s private lives impact their decisions. We all have character flaws. But for us common mortals these have a negative impact, though maybe only on our children, on our wives, on our friends. But with people in power, we often underestimate the problem of their character [flaws]. I’ve always been interested in this. The other day I saw an interview done years ago with Charlie Munger, who is Warren Buffett’s partner. He was asked, “How would you see Donald Trump as president?” Munger said that Trump was motivated only by vanity and the search for glory and that these things would be very dangerous for someone who becomes president of the United States. Every day in the news, we read about decisions made by politicians that stem from impetuosity, show of force and strange twisted ideas about how the economy works. Instead of this, I wanted to depict what a politician should be like.
The other common thread is these films star Toni Servillo, your male muse. Did you write “La Grazia” with Servillo in mind?
Yes, I thought of Toni because he’s the one actor who gives me an immediate sense of authority. So when I start thinking about authoritative figures, Toni immediately comes to mind.
What, if any, notes did you give Servillo about his character, President Mariano De Santis?
The most recurring indication I gave was probably just to keep the character from veering into sentimentality. Where there were scenes that lent themselves to the president letting himself go [emotionally], for example toward his daughter, I always preferred to put a freeze on this. So that the great humanity that Toni emanates just with this face would suffice.
The president has a strong bond with his daughter, played by Anna Ferzetti. This is also a film about fatherhood. Talk to me about their rapport.
That stems from something autobiographical, from the relationship I have with my daughter. There is this temptation we all have, when we get older — even very smart, cultured people do this — to establish that the present-day is horrible and that the past in which they were young was a glorious time. It’s a very human temptation. It’s comfortable, because it doesn’t force you to think about what is happening today at a time when you no longer have the tools to understand things. So I thought it could be interesting, given that the president is a very smart guy, that he does not surrender to this temptation. Instead, he lets his daughter lead him toward a better understanding of the present day. This is clear in what happens with the president and the law on euthanasia. In the end, he signs the [euthanasia] law because he trusts his daughter’s ideas. Not because he is convinced [that’s it’s right]. The future belongs to their generation.
Euthanasia is a strong theme that anchors “La Grazia.” As the president wonders whether he should sign the euthanasia law, he asks himself, “Who do our days belong to?” It seems like something to which you’ve given a lot of thought. Is that so?
I think we are all tormented by the idea of, “Who do our days belong to?” We all feel that in certain phases of our lives, in certain crucial moments of transition, as if the days don’t belong to us. They haven’t belonged to us. They’ve belonged to others. For some of us, this perception can sometimes simply be a purely mundane thought, such as: “They belong to my employer or my to family. But, basically, I get by.” Bur for those who are burdened by physical and psychological suffering, it become a very pressing question that must be answered. Euthanasia has to do with who is responsible for individual lives and deaths.
Italian rapper Guè’s music is interwoven into the film’s storyline. How did this collaboration come about?
Until quite recently, I didn’t know Guè or his music. I’d like to say it was one of my kids who turned me on to him, but it was actually my wife. I immediately liked his songs. At first I didn’t understand 85% of the words, but what struck me was that in the remaining 15% [of the text] within his complicated sentences, there was a profound humanity. A deep pain, also, in his relationship with his father. So that’s what captivated me. Then when I met him, in Milan, where he came to introduce my film “Parthenope,” I was struck by this big guy who was very strong, but also gentle. We just hit it off. His song that is in the film [“Le bimbe piangono”] has a line in it that says, “Chiedo dopo perdono, non prima per favore.” [“I will ask for forgiveness later, not before then please”]. Due to some strange mental alchemy, it moves me deeply. It’s like a mantra that I often repeat to myself. It’s about postponing the moment in which you will have to ask for forgiveness, given that we will all have to ask for forgiveness for wrongful things that we did. I wanted to underline how this elderly president is struggling to reconcile himself with the present but wants to understand it, so I wound up having him invite Guè to the presidential palace to be honored.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Toni Servillo in “La Grazia.”
Courtesy Fremantle