Given that this is his second theatrical release of 2021, Ridley Scott () is clearly having a bit of a moment. He’s never really disappeared from the film-making landscape, unlike some other directors, and really the longest gap between films for him was actually between 2017, where he also directed two films in one year, and 2021. Yet, like 2017, one of his 2021 films was critically lauded and will likely be a focus of the year’s awards circuit. That film, unfortunately, is not “House of Gucci.”
In simplest of terms, and we’ll get into why it's hard to describe the plot more later, “House of Gucci” centers on Patrizia Reggiani, played with thick cartoonish accents and a borderline actual cat’s purr by Lady Gaga (“A Star is Born (2018),” “American Horror Story: Hotel”), and her marriage to Maurizio Gucci, played with thick rimmed glasses nerd chic by Adam Driver (“Marriage Story,” “Star Wars: The Last Jedi”), and the ensuing power struggle within the Gucci family, such as patriarchal uncle Aldo, played by Al Pacino (“The Godfather,” “The Irishman”), and oddball cousin Paolo, played by Jared Leto (“Blade Runner 2049,” “Dallas Buyers Club”), for their fashion empire, a struggle set off in no small part by Patrizia.
There is a lot going on here, and the film’s ample two-hour-and-thirty-eight minute runtime doesn’t do it any favors. Throughout the entire film there’s murder, sex, greed, drugs, theft, lawsuits, bribery, extortion, etc. Just another day in the life of a rich and powerful family, and yet somehow that length saps every bit of tension from the film. So much of the film could easily be cut with no effect on the actual ending. It’s clear that Patrizia and Maurizio’s romance turned power struggle is the central conflict, and yet so much time is spent on other things.
It’s great that Scott wants to show us as much as possible, but even as the old adage “show, don’t tell” is typically applicable, there are also times you can just tell. It’s hard to tell who’s fault this would be, whether blame lays on Scott as director or Becky Johnston (“The Prince of Tides,” “Seven Years in Tibet”) or Roberto Bentivegna as writers, but there’s just too much going on. It’s too long, with too many subplots, and too many scenes for each plot. There are clear areas where things could simply be cut off and easily slice 15-20 minutes from the run-time.
However, this problem is further exacerbated by the fact that what’s here still has some massive gaps in plot. At one point, after being constantly told throughout the film that Maurizio wants to run Gucci well, and doesn’t want to get into financial troubles like his cousin or uncle. Then, suddenly, two-thirds through the film his house is raided by financial police and he escapes into the snowy mountains on a motorbike. We never see anything prior to this that would give any indication that he’s had a change of heart or spending. It just happens out of nowhere. When the reason for the ransacking is finally given, it's less of a tense moment and more of an exacerbated “really?”
But that’s only the plot, let’s not forget the performances carrying this script through. Love or hate her, Gaga absolutely will throw herself into her cherry-picked film roles, and this is no exception. She speaks with bravado and thick accents, with hand movements so exaggerated they would make any Manhattan deli owner blush. At times, her vocal purr is so pronounced, you’d think she was auditioning for “Cats” two years too late. It’s definitely a big performance, yet it's hard to say if it's good or not.
Driver, thankfully, plays things a bit straighter. His Maurizio is one that constantly flips between loving and hating. For every moment of awkward nerdy chic, with a toothy grin and hand-waving of the Gucci fame and fortune, there are moments that seem sinister, as if for his entire life he’s been planning the downfall and events of the film. It’s a fabulous double edged sword and is yet another in a line of recent roles from Driver where he seems committed to playing horrible men.
The film’s supporting cast, though, are all playing on Gaga’s level. Leto is absolutely cranking it up to 11, turning in a performance that suggests he was possibly told the film was a comedy, not a drama. Pacino is a delightfully scummy uncle figure that relishes in the excess and is simply having a blast. Jeremy Irons (“Dead Ringers,” “Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice”), while not in the film much, is a sobering quiet bright spot, showing how to play big without losing the realism or audience in the farce. Salma Hayek (“Frida,” “The Hitman’s Bodyguard”) plays Patrizia’s friend and confidant, television psychic Giuseppina “Pina” Auriemma, and she’s the straight man to Gaga’s Patrizia, constantly coming off as the more grounded, level headed one compared to her, despite often being surrounded by tarot cards and spell candles.
It's the kind of cast that seems like they should work because, like everything else in the film, on paper they’re genius. Yet, the execution is everything, and “House of Gucci” can’t figure out what kind of tone it wants to have. There are moments of huge excess, of staring at Lady Gaga trying on outfit after outfit, dancing around a Gucci store, of giant apartments and 50 foot tables of food looking out over Italian waters. It's the kind of excess that’s inherently comical, and while the film does try to dive into those elements, it wants to have its cake and eat it too. Everything is at its best when its playing those elements up, embracing the camp and the inherent joy in watching Gag chew out a former lover of Maurizio’s in a puffy white winter coat while drinking coffee at a ski lodge, yet that campy tone is never kept consist and eventually fades away entirely.
“House of Gucci” so badly wants to take its characters seriously, except when it doesn’t. Moments like characters discussing hit-men whilst smearing mud on each other's faces or arresting someone at the pickle-ball court come off as inherently silly but played extremely seriously. Scott and the writers want us to laugh at these characters but also take their plights to heart. It’s the opposite of something like “Succession,” which always, without fault, plays its characters to be morally reprehensible. You aren’t supposed to like them, so you don’t. “House of Gucci” wants you to hate them and their excess, yet also wants you to care deeply about everything that happens to them and it simply doesn’t work.
Of course, as if it even needed to be said, the film looks gorgeous. Yet, even that can’t be said without an asterisk. Every moment of rich European countryside or lavish mansions and cities looks beautiful, creating a sort of vacation destination highlight reel for those who want to one day be rich and famous. Yet, even as these beautiful people in beautiful clothes walk through beautiful cities, the film’s color palette is so washed out it's hard to see it all as beautiful. Maybe that’s the point, to showcase these gorgeous things in such ugly colors that it, no pun intended, shows their true colors, but it's too washed out at times. Case in point, early on the film switches to black and white for a moment, and you’d be hard pressed to notice when it happens given the already dull colors of the film up to that point.
“House of Gucci” is a fascinatingly mixed bag. Nothing about it is entirely bad, save for the pacing and run-time, and it creates this bizarre sense of duality. It's enjoyable, but not good. It has entertaining performances, but not good or great ones. It’s fabulous to look at, but also equally ugly. Watching “House of Gucci” can most closely be compared to walking into a Gucci store as someone who makes less than seven figures a year; it's gorgeous, yet exhausting and laughable. It’s fun for a spell, but not something you’d recommend to friends, nor something you’d want to go back to anytime soon. 3/5
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