House of Gucci

House of Gucci

It's not entirely fair to critique House of Gucci from my personal viewpoints of what the movie should have been, but as is, the film is so aesthetically cold and un-enthusiastic I can't help but imagine something better. This is mid-tier Scott, something efficient and directed with seemingly mild enthusiasm; there is no visual flair, only distance and low-drama. And maybe, the thematic point is that infinite wealth can't color monochromatic lives/souls, but that doesn't negate Gucci's dullness.

Someone like Baz Luhrmann would have annihilated this material—the fashion should have been garish, the manipulation heightened melodrama, but sex and backstabbing is draped in a bunch of 'bleh' here. Leto -being absolutely batshit- is purposeful camp, and Pacino is emotionally large: I think the movie could have benefited from their tone.

Driver is almost burdened by playing the least flashy character, but he's charming and quietly wormy; Gaga on the other hand is okay (??) but doing nothing more than a Real Housewives of Little Italy impression, and one totally without Leto's irony.

Hopefully this bombs too and Scott gets to direct his mad-energy into Alien: Awakening.

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