By Giulia Piceni. Cover image by Iulia Ecaterina Ene Paraschiv.
Before crossing the threshold of the cinema to watch Sorrentino’s Parthenope, I promised myself I wouldn’t read any reviews or summaries. Yet, despite my intentions, I couldn’t avoid the media buzz, and eventually, I came across an interview with director Paolo Sorrentino discussing the film’s key themes. One question particularly resonated with me: What was he aiming to achieve? What is the film’s message? Cunning as always, Sorrentino replied that the film doesn’t aim to “achieve” anything. Instead, he said his role was simply to pose questions throughout the film. It’s up to the viewer to find them and, perhaps, take something meaningful from them.
Sorrentino’s Parthenope, a film review on the Beauty and Sorrows of Youth
The Emotional Impact of Sorrentino’s Parthenope
As the credits rolled to the haunting notes of Che Cosa C’è By Gino Paoli, I left the theatre with tears welling in my eyes and a lump in my throat, feeling a bittersweet ache in my gut. I realised that questioning the significance of Parthenope is pointless; such inquiries could only come from someone either too old to recall the transition into adulthood or too young to grasp the experiences depicted in the film.
Beauty and youth are two concepts that Sorrentino cannot separate from his beloved Naples. On the surface, Parthenope is a love letter to the city, but the film offers deeper layers of interpretation that invite further reflection.
Eravamo giovani e infelici.
We were young and unhappy.
All the Complexities of Naples Are Reflected in Sorrentino’s Parthenope
Parthenope emerged from the waters of Naples, much like Venus from sea foam, destined with a beauty that is as difficult to manage as it is to accept. After her brother’s suicide, for which she feels guilty, her carefree youth abruptly comes to an end. From that moment on, every ounce of energy in this quick-witted young woman is channelled into anthropology, both academically and in her day-to-day life. The film unfolds from the 50s to the present day, chronicling a series of adventures in Parthenope’s life against the enchanting backdrop of Naples. Sorrentino masterfully captures the city’s essence through Parthenope’s encounters with its people, weaving a detailed portrait of their and its soul.
Contrasts of Beauty and Corruption in Naples
The sacred treasure of San Gennaro intersects with the profane, carnal, and sinful dimensions of a corrupted Church. A notable exchange occurs between the Bishop of Naples and Parthenope when she admires the excessive decor of a chapel and remarks, “I feel suffocated.” The Bishop replies wryly, suggesting that her discomfort arises not from an overload of beauty but rather from the weight of Catholicism.
Parthenope’s aristocratic upbringing in Posillipo, where she enjoyed a privileged youth, collides with the squalor of Naples’ poorer quarters. Here, a former lover, implicitly tied to the illegal underworld and revered as a saviour from poverty, becomes her New Year’s Eve tryst in the sea, reminiscent of a mermaid’s embrace.
The Transformative Power of Young Love
One of Paolo Sorrentino’s greatest obsessions is undoubtedly youth, as shown in his film Youth (2015). Additionally, he has a profound fascination with Naples, beautifully depicted in È stata la mano di Dio (2023). True to his distinctive style, which combines Fellini-esque dreamscapes with a hint of magical realism and disenchanted romance, love and its many consequences serve as the central theme of Parthenope’s narrative.
Exploring Love and Identity in Parthenope
Parthenope experiences love in all its forms, beginning with the obsessive love her brother Raimondo harbours for her. While their relationship initially suggests the possibility of crossing into forbidden territory, with lingering, unspoken touches and unfulfilled kisses, it becomes clear that Raimondo’s fixation is rooted in his fragile nature. He views Parthenope, blessed with disarming beauty and intelligence, as his sole guiding light: everything he believes he lacks. This delirious obsession proves fatal when he discovers that Parthenope and Sandrino, the housekeeper’s son, shared a night of passion. In his sorrow, he throws himself into the same waters from which Parthenope was born. After this tragic event, her relationship with Sandrino also falls apart despite their mutual feelings. Parthenope’s love for Sandrino embodies a different kind of love: youthful, pure, and genuine. She distances herself from this relationship, only to later confess her feelings when Sandrino leaves Naples, a city Parthenope herself struggles to abandon.
In the film, Parthenope is romantically drawn to the charm of both men (including a British decadent writer, played by the legendary Gary Oldman) and women. Unconstrained by social norms, she embodies the spirit of the revolutionary year of 1968. Her curiosity for people, particularly in matters of love, showcases her as a true anthropologist, exploring others to gain a deeper understanding of herself.
Embracing Beauty is Understanding its Burden and Horror
Ultimately, Parthenope and Naples share the burden of great beauty. This kind of beauty is both captivating and confining, marked by a deep awareness of its weight—the doors it opens, the ones it slams shut, and the prejudice it can trigger. Both Parthenope and Naples leave us breathless yet feeling trapped by their allure. This duality is also reflected in the film’s older female characters, Flora Malva, an agent, and Greta Cool, an actress. Both women have fallen from grace as their youthful beauty fades. Alone and haunted by memories of a past they no longer belong to, they personify the cruel passage of time.
A Poetic Reflection on Naples’ Beauty and Grotesque Elements
One scene, for me, captures the beauty and grotesque spirit of Naples, two essential elements that make the city what it is. When Parthenope’s trusted anthropology professor, whom she assists, announces his retirement, he finally reveals his son, whom he had long kept hidden. Parthenope had only faintly heard his sharp laugh during their countless academic conversations. They enter a room where his son lies on the sofa, his pale skin and dark veins swelling as if ready to burst. He embodies ugliness itself, yet when contrasted with Parthenope’s disarming beauty, the effect becomes almost poetic. Parthenope paradoxically declares him “beautiful”. This moment deepened by the professor’s explanation that his son’s swollen appearance is due to an accumulation of water and salt, just like the sea—the very sea from which Parthenope emerged, evoking her namesake siren who, according to legend, founded Naples.
In the end, this city is exactly that: an intricate blend of beauty and ugliness, where the boundaries between opposites blur. Myth and horror, magnificence and grotesque—perhaps the distinction is unclear. It’s when we are young, with fresh eyes that allow us to truly see things, that we begin to understand this complexity.
