Loro 1 (2018)

Paolo Sorrentino approaches the spectacle of Italian decadence with the practiced eye of a connoisseur examining a particularly expensive bottle of wine. Loro, a gorgeous exercise in cinematic excess, documents the life of the political elite surrounding Silvio Berlusconi. The film functions less as a historical document and more as a feverish portrait of ambition and transactional relationships. The aesthetic achievement here is undisputed. We watch a world of extreme wealth and performative excess, an environment where morality has long since been replaced by a specific, almost exhausting, brand of self-regard. The social commentary operates primarily through disgust rather than structural critique, an interesting limitation for a work of this scope.

Its progressive sensibilities are sparse, residing mostly in the indictment of the sexual politics surrounding the aging powerful figures. We find a certain resonance in the critique of the ornamental role played by certain women within this specific milieu, though this registers as a moral grievance rather than a sweeping feminist thesis. The anti-capitalist undercurrent is limited to the sheer spectacle of wealth being held up for contempt. The cast, composed entirely of established white Italian figures, keeps the film firmly rooted in its specific cultural and racial geography. There is no engagement with broader contemporary social issues, climate anxiety, or modern neurodivergent experiences. The historical speculation is purely decorative, intended to paint a vibrant picture of a lost era.

This is a film concerned with the texture of power, not its equitable distribution. The narrative preference is for mood and the grotesque beauty of human vanity. It offers a decadent, highly polished view of a system operating outside the purview of contemporary social justice discourse. It is a magnificent piece of cinema, but its lack of modern cultural urgency makes it feel like a highly stylized cultural artifact from a previous century.