YOUTH B
Italy France Great Britain Switzerland (119 mi)
2015 ‘Scope
Only Sorrentino’s second film in English, after the oddly
compelling use of Sean Penn in This
Must Be the Place (2011), where the title suggests one thing, while the
subject of the film is diametrically opposite, as this is more of a quirky meditation
on aging, featuring Michael Caine as Fred and Harvey Keitel as Mick, two
longtime, near eighty-year old friends in the latter stages of their lives that
one initially suspects are brothers due to their intimate familiarity, but instead
they’ve known each other for 60 years. Taking
place nearly exclusively on the secluded grounds of an upscale spa for the rich
and famous at the Waldhaus hotel in
the Swiss Alps, the same hotel featured in the recent Olivier Assayas film, 2014
Top Ten List #3 Clouds of Sils Maria (2014), offering dazzling views of the
surrounding Sils Maria countryside, this is the first Sorrentino film where the
superficiality of the subject matter simply doesn’t live up to the whirlwind
cinematography from Luca Bigazzi, who is among the best in the business,
normally elevating this director’s films into rarified air. While it’s something of a delight throughout,
often lighthearted and humorous, this film is arguably the lightest and least
successful in the director’s career, becoming more of a scattershot virtuoso
film where much of its power is diluted from attempting to cover so much territory,
where it is entertaining throughout, though it borders on spectacle. Opening with the très chic sounds of The
Retrosettes, a retro band from Manchester, You Got The
Love by The Retrosettes - SoundCloud (3:20), where the female singer may as
well be spewing her message on a rotating platform coming from the middle of a
bonafide “fountain of youth,” the song jumpstarts the film with an adrenal rush
that in every respect is equivalent to a thoroughbred breaking out of the gate
at a racetrack. The problem is
sustaining the pace all the way through till the end. While there are heady moments, and more than
a few pleasant surprises in store, it’s hard to say this film has any lasting power,
as there’s really not much of a developing story, feeling more like a series of
vignettes strung together creating an impressionistic mosaic, where there are
few entry points into the lives of the characters portrayed. Certainly part of the problem is the
exclusivity of the place itself, catering to power and privilege, where most
will never spend a minute of their lives in a swanky place like this.
Fred is a retired symphonic conductor spending most of his
days being oiled and massaged, where he is pampered and catered to by kids that
barely look out of their teens. Having
lost his wife some time ago, he’s acutely aware that he’s in the latter stages
of his life, with little to actually look forward to, instead harping on
certain incidents from his past that crop up from time to time. Mick, on the other hand, has a core of young
writers trying to help him finish off a screenplay entitled Life’s Last Day, the summation of his
life’s work as a film director. They come
off a bit like a Laurel & Hardy act, with Keitel in the role of Laurel
handing out the straight lines while Michael Caine relishes playing the more
pompous Hardy, where both can be seen walking the massive grounds of the place
together, where their pace is a near crawl, holding cryptic conversations about
their prostrates and other physical ailments, though their womanizing eyes still
rove to the ladies just as much as when they were pubescent teenage boys on the
prowl. Joining them is a young American
actor Jimmy Tree (Paul Dano), who seemingly has no business being there, as the
place is crawling with people two and three times his age, but he enjoys the
seclusion as he prepares for a new role.
In a celebratory moment, Fred’s grown daughter Lena (Rachel Weisz) is
heading out on a Pacific holiday with her fiancé, Mick’s son Julian (Ed
Stoppard), where for a brief moment the past and the present intersect, with
both men reliving the exuberance of their lives through the romantic affairs of
their children. Also entering the
picture is an emissary from the Queen, a very squirrely Alex Macqueen, who is
sent on a mission to invite Fred to come out of retirement for a gala concert
performance of his most celebrated composition “Simple Songs” in London before
the royal family in exchange for knighthood.
Despite the honor, Fred refuses for personal reasons, and despite
repeated pleas, the emissary leaves dejected and thoroughly disappointed, as
the Queen does not like to receive bad news.
In short order, Lena is back as well, having been unceremoniously dumped
for a pop celebrity, none other than Paloma Faith playing herself, where both
men find Julian’s conduct appalling (in his defense, Julian claims Paloma is a
wonder in bed), where Mick even sides with Fred on this one, giving his son a thorough
tongue lashing for his selfish display of male arrogance and bad taste.
Rachel Weisz, who also acts as her father’s personal
assistant, is easily the best thing in the film, as she’s a smart, vulnerable
and relatable character who shows some imagination and verve, who doesn’t pout about
her circumstances, but instead rails against her father for his rude and
neglectful treatment of his own children, as he was never emotionally
accessible, always on the road traveling with the symphony, while at home she
was forever being shushed and instructed to “be quiet” while Daddy was busy at
work composing music, locked away in a room somewhere that was completely off
limits. The beauty of this scathing
monologue is that it is conducted while both are receiving side by side
massages, where there is literally nothing he can do about it, where he’s
forced to endure the full brunt of every blistering word. Sorrentino is the closest thing to Fellini
working today, where it wouldn’t be one of his signature films without a myriad
of oddball side characters that continually keep popping up on the screen, like
the gargantuan Diego Maradona soccer player with a full-sized tattoo of Karl
Marx on his back who has ballooned up to over 400 pounds, who swims a length of
the pool and stops, thoroughly exhausted, or a brief, poignant scene of a young
masseuse seen dancing alone in her room showing surprising dexterity and
ballet-like grace, or the stunning arrival of Miss Universe (Madalina Diana
Ghenea), the object of Fred’s daydreams even before she confidently takes a dip
utterly naked in the wading pool with the eyes of two drooling men staring at
her. It’s, of course, a picture of what
they’re missing, a part of their pasts that can never be regained, but can only
be summoned in wish fulfillment daydreams (activate the trashy music
video). There’s even an all-too-brief
appearance by Jane Fonda as Mick’s gutty actress Brenda Morel, the star of all
his successful pictures, who is caked with so much make-up that she looks more
like a campy character in drag, but she gives Mick a lacerating, no holds
barred wake-up call in uncensored sailor lingo, traveling great distances to
remind him face-to-face that his work has turned into “shit,” that “You’re
going on 80, and like most of your colleagues, you’re getting worse with age,”
declaring “Television is the future” before making a hasty retreat. (Ironically Sorrentino is working on an
8-episode TV mini-series entitled The
Young Pope co-produced by Sky Italy and HBO, expected release sometime in
2016). While this summarily dismissive
rant seems right out of some trashy soap opera, with equally melodramatic
results, much of this operatic film is thoroughly intoxicating, where the
music, much of it scored by American composer David Lang, couldn’t be more in
synch with what’s shown onscreen, but there’s no real sense of urgency and some
lingering questions whether any of this will matter or be remembered in the
years to come.
