WELCOME TO THE HOUSE OF PATRICIA BLANCHET - 11/02/22
First and foremost, and also because this is about fashion, I wanted to invite you to take 2h30 of your time to watch House Of Gucci.
For one thing, Ridley Scott hasn't been making Tony Scott films for two films now. He's finally realized that he can get over his 70's-80's style and tell stories without too many visual effects that detract from the story. Ridley Scott is a story of many resurrections.
The one after his post-Blade Runner dry spell before Thelma and Louise. Second drought until Gladiator. Then the period that saw him rip off his brother's pompous style before realizing he had his own.
He then returned a year ago with The Last Duel, and at 83, more apt not to saturate his image with unnecessary information. House Of Gucci was originally a project Martin Scorsese was to direct, but for various reasons he abandoned it.
I agree with you: with Scorsese, it would have been more venomous, more polished, with a more demanding soundtrack than this sequence of musical clichés.
But in this day and age when bullshit tv series are piling up like the number of my Thursday night lovers, it's hard to turn a blind eye to a cast as delightful as the one that features Adam Driver, Al Pacino, Lady Gaga, Jeremy Irons, Jared Leto and Salma Hayek.
This is a tragic, sad story of jealousy, love and antics. It's best watched on a quiet evening, the day after a bender, or before going to sleep with a cuddle or an auto-cuddle. Oh, and the song at the end, a duet with Tracy Chapman and Pavarotti, is an abomination. I'm still laughing to myself at the whole thing.
Not only did we have to dare to think about bringing these two voices together, but even worse, we had to dare to put it into a film. Well, that's that. Otherwise, it's time for my piña-colada.