Parthenope is not a film for everyone. Nor is it trying to be. It’s quietly reflective and also a bit weird and vague. Written and directed by Paolo Sorrentino, Parthenope is an Italian coming-of-age story that sees its тιтular character at different stages in her life. Sometimes she’s aimlessly wandering through her life, unable to settle on any particular decision. At other points, Parthenope (Celeste Dalla Porta) is thrown into situations and forced to deal with the consequences. And yet, she floats, indecisive and curious, observant and filled with sorrow.
Parthenope spans a few decades but is focused on the most crucial years of the тιтle character’s 20s and 30s before briefly showing us in her retirement (an older Parthenope is played by Stefania Sandrelli). The young woman moves between one pᴀssionate moment and the next in her youth when everything seems endless and life is still exciting and filled with potential. Parthenope is beautiful and her beauty is something that is constantly noticed and commented on.
Parthenope Is Deeper Than It Appears On The Surface
The film could be accused of being shallow but beneath the glamour of its perfume commercial aesthetic and occasionally absurd moments — such as a reveal regarding the son of Professor Marotta (Silvio Orlando), Parthenope’s mentor and anthropology professor — lies a story of a woman who’s lost and whose life, or at least some parts of it, slip through her fingers. Time is Parthenope’s enemy, but not in the way you’d expect it to be. Indecision and decision go hand-in-hand here and the film’s storyline unfolds at a languid pace, as though depicting the slowness of a life that also flies by too quickly.
Youth and beauty are, in many ways, also Parthenope’s enemy, especially as those around her verbally share their perceptions and expectations of her beauty and what it will and won’t do for her. Parthenope is encouraged to be an actress; she has the face for it says one character. So she tries, taking acting classes from Flora Malva (Isabella Ferrari), a former actress who hides behind hats and odd face masks to conceal the disfiguration from too much work done to maintain her beauty. Ultimately, and as the opening narration tells us, Parthenope’s eyes are considered too dull despite attractive features.
Youth and beauty are, in many ways, also Parthenope’s enemy, especially as those around her verbally share their perceptions and expectations of her beauty and what it will and won’t do for her.
Throughout much of the film, Parthenope oscillates between pᴀssive and active observer, watching things happen to others or listening to their perspectives, which are shaped by tragedy or presumptions about her. She relies on beauty in some ways, but not in others. But of course, Parthenope isn’t so shallow, either, taking its time building out a world around its main character while also giving us a glimpse into Naples, the city that seems just as restless and in-between as she is.
Parthenope Is Visually Stunning With Something To Say
To that end, the film reflects on the feeling of being afloat and it’s something we can all empathize with on some level. Sorrentino’s film is an intriguing, if overlong, exploration of the roads taken and not taken, on the past and how it shapes us and the distractions along the way that cloud our ruminations on what we want before it’s too late. Parthenope is very much a character who’s confused about her place in the world and what she wants to do; this journey takes shape throughout the film until the end becomes a melancholic look back at her life.
It’s in these instances where the film finds its success. Of course, Parthenope is more than a bit indulgent and slow, but it can’t be accused of being empty. It’s an interesting film that can be frustrating but also intriguing. I always wanted to see where Parthenope ends up, even in the film’s more meandering (and sometimes blatantly awkward) moments.
Daria D’Antonio’s cinematography is lush, capturing the vast beauty of Naples. Long sH๏τs of Parthenope staring out into the ocean or watching people on the beach give the film the feeling of being small in a big world and make it tangible. The camera lingers too long on certain things, as though we, too, are meant to bask in the gorgeousness of the characters and their surroundings. Sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t, but it always asks us to think about what we’re seeing, even if what we’re seeing is wild and strange.
Parthenope is sensual and visually exquisite. It might not dig way too deep into its message, but it does get it across by the end. We just have to be willing to be taken along the journey, as Parthenope’s story is very much about the human condition. I found myself wondering about what happens to this woman when she defies expectations of what her beauty provides. The answer is thought-provoking, to say the least.
