It’s garbage. An adaptation of Sara Gay Forden’s “The House of Gucci” as directed by Patrizia herself or Snooki from “The Jersey Shore”! The Story of Patrizia Reggiani from a working-class background who hired some low-rent hit men to take out her husband Maurizio Gucci, heir to the Gucci fortune, is cinema soft-core porn with no focus, too many montages of cheesy fashion shows with cheesy eighties music and no center thanks to an awful script, awful editing and awful direction by the once great Ridley Scott. It also features an embarrassing turn by Lady Gaga who delivers her lines scene by individual scene with great effort without ever developing anything resembling a flesh and blood character. Gaga is matched by a shockingly self-indulgent performance by Jared Leto as the (now deceased) Paulo Gucci, the buffoon of the family. Fun at first, he quickly becomes very tiresome and Scott gives him free reign. There is one scene where Paulo enlightens us on the difference between chocolat and merde that will live on in the annals of cinema as the perfect example of where the director should have yelled CUT but did not.
A few members of the cast manage to retain some dignity. As the two brothers who founded the House – the family were originally leather makers – Jeremy Irons and Al Pacino have genuine moments of pathos. Irons, in particular, looking ill and shockingly thin (then again, Irons has always looked I’ll and shockingly thin, even in “Brideshead”) as Maurizio’s dying father, seems to be in another – better – film entirely. Pacino overacts all over the place but, unlike Leto, his performance is not flippant and condescending. And then there is Adam Driver’s Maurizio. Unlike “Annette”, he does not go down with the ship here. An actor of great presence and dignity, he floats above the jetsam until his character’s sad ending.