La Grazia Review: Anything but Graceful

With La Grazia, Paolo Sorrentino attempts to steady his ship after Parthenope, but rehashes familiar imagery and themes in a drab production.

This means it has more in common with Loro or Il Divo, but where they had sufficient bile to match their style, La Grazia is far too cosy and sentimental to make its points. Sorrentino has gotten away with a lack of bite in his material before, but even his signature style lets him down here. A newly-found self-consciousness drains the film of the director’s trademark energy, leaving the audience intrigued but lethargic.

Sorrentino makes his serious intent clear from the start, with an opening crawl quoting several passages from the Italian constitution, outlining the duties of the President. Like many a head of state, the President of Italy is constitutionally impartial, appointing nominees to roles and signing legislation. In La Grazia, Sorrentino’s muse Toni Servillo plays President Mariano de Santis. Though fictional, the leftist Catholic de Santis is obviously based on current Italian President Sergio Mattarella, right down to being predeceased by his wife and having a daughter (Anna Ferzetti’s Dorotea) who acts as his advisor. Previously, Sorrentino has seen no need to cushion his unflattering portraits of politicians like Silvio Berlusconi or Giulio Andreotti in fake names, but La Grazia is a film that plays things safe, even when grappling with heavy material.

De Santis is on the cusp of retirement but, even with just six months to go, Servillo’s lined and hangdogged face suggest De Santis would be happy to go straight away. Dorotea is unhappy with his cautiously proposed changes to legislation, while he entertains a series of diplomats and ministers in meetings that only reinforce his isolation. Servillo excels in roles that require haggard introspection, and De Santis fits nicely into his oeuvre with Sorrentino. He balances the introspection of The Great Beauty’s Jep Gambardella with the stoicism of Andreotti in Il Divo.

However, those films derived their energy from coyly poking at the real-world actions that led the characters to where we found them. Andreotti got the Goodfellas treatment that made him look cool and cruel simultaneously, while Jep was fun to watch even as he lamented the emptiness of his life in a post-economic crash world that had less time for his monied wit and elegance. Like President de Santis, La Grazia prides itself on its unnecessary cautiousness. By the end of the film, Sorrentino finds very little to say about Mattarella, even though he throws some big decisions across De Santis’ desk. 

The crux of La Grazia’s plot is pending legislaton on euthanasia access that the wary President is reluctant to sign. Even though there’s sufficient meat here from which to wring some thematic weight (Tuscany became the first Italian region to approve medically assisted suicide earlier this year), La Grazia can only frame the decision in the context of its wearied President. This explains why he’s also been asked to consider pardoning two murderers who claim their actions were effectively euthanasia, while his beloved horse Elvis falls ill with a mystery illness. These thuddingly contrived narrative detours are unsubtle even for Sorrentino, but they may have been forgivable had he not simultaneously drained his film of his regular visual pizazz.

The muted tone and look of La Grazia may be in response to the reception of Sorrentino’s previous film Parthenope, which saw the director lapse into self-parody, with an absence of substance that left the beautiful cast swanning around an (undeniably gorgeous) extended perfume commercial. Nevertheless, La Grazia is too strong an about-turn. Cinematographer Daria D’Antonio’s lighting scheme is sombre, almost mournful, while Ludovica Ferrario’s  production design is heavy in browns and greys. Combined with a less ostentatious camera, Sorrentino’s imagery fails to sear itself on the brain like it otherwise might have. Even his usual knack for a needle drop falls short. An overused Johann Johansson track cannot render an emotional texture on its own, and seeing the elderly President rap confirms that this isn’t Bulworth.

La Grazia is studded with enough bon mots, wry observations and fun performances (Milvia Marigliano’s art critic/confidant steals every scene she’s in) to keep it going, but it’s forever straining for a depth it can’t reach. Sorrentino may be urging the real President to step aside for someone younger, but that’s about as far as his political critique goes, and Almodóvar beat him to the punch on his euthanasia messaging with The Room Next Door. That film doesn’t have much of a sense of humour, but at least it’s consistently on message. La Grazia is too busy, laidback and obvious to make its points with similar conviction.

La Grazia was screened at the BFI London Film Festival on 19 October, 2025. The film will be released in U.S. theaters on December 5, 2025, and is coming soon to Mubi in the UK, Latin America, Germany, Turkey, Canada, Netherlands, Ireland, India, Spain, Australia and more.

Header credits: Andrea Pirrello, Courtesy of La Biennale di Venezia