CIFF Notes: The Hand of God (Saturday Oct 23 - 8:15pm)

Italian director Paolo Sorrentino's new film The Hand of God is his semi-autobiographical homage to Fellini's Amarcord in the vein of his other Maestro-inspired films The Great Beauty (2013) and Youth (2015). While I think The Great Beauty is the standout among these films, they all feel part of a creative vision that manages to carry on some highly specific visual traditions and themes without ever feeling derivative. The Hand of God refers in it's title to the great soccer player Maradona and his move to the hometown of Naples in the 1980's, but the divine intervention ultimately refers as much to the other preoccupations of the central Sorrentino stand-in--Filippo Scotti as Fabietto Schisa--including the sexual allure of his aunt Patrizia (Luisa Renieri), as well as the allure of the cinematic via encounters with Antonio Capuano, Fellini himself, and a VHS copy of Segio Leone's Once Upon a Time in America.

For fans of Sorrentino, The Hand of God will likely come off as a logical, albeit more relaxed, next entry in his body of work, as will Sorrentino regular Toni Servillo's performance as Fabietto's jovial father figure, Saverio. For those just getting into Sorrentino, this film might be a good starting point. But, for those who may have already decided Sorrentino's bag of cinematic tricks and homages isn't their bag, I'm not sure The Hand of God will get far in convincing them otherwise. I happen to love Sorrentino's sense of movement, editing, nostalgia, and place--particularly essential to this film, a celebration of his home. This one went down very easy for me, even in the final passages that meander in a way I found simultaneously a bit frustrating and full of possibility. The Hand of God has the kind of patience that works against (thank god) the current mainstream sense of time and place in a way I found almost enveloping--not in the same way that Gomes or Weerasethakul are doing at this same festival, but with it's own rhythm, and through it's own assured act of quiet reflection. It also hits a clunky note or two that feel more like they belong in a mainstream biopic, but what's joyous and honest about the film prevails. More specifically, what Sorrentino avoids--especially for a film about the 1980's--is significant in how it distinguishes itself. That copy of Once Upon a Time in America that sits atop the TV is never excerpted or spliced into the film, and the music of the period is barely heard. This only occurred to me in the final frames of The Hand of God, where Fabietto's head leans against the train window taking him away from his home, the balled, orange Walkman headphones dangling from his neck finally standing out to me as an essential part of the character's visual design, and a clue about one impressive aspect of the film: in portraying a character who is never without his music, Sorrentino had refused to continuously "drop the needle" as a way to stoke the 80's nostalgia, an obstruction that would put lesser filmmakers at a significant disadvantage.