A Man and a Country Aging Gracefully
Sorrentino’s 2025 film La Grazia takes its title from an Italian word rich with layered meanings : grace, mercy, pardon, elegance, refinement. The film draws from all of these semantic shades, weaving them into a portrait that is at once intimate and national, delicate yet assertive.
At the center stands Mariano de Santis (Toni Servillo), a man who carries age not as tragedy nor triumph, but with a quiet composure that defines him. Western cultures often describe this as “aging gracefully,” but in La Grazia, the concept is less about a social ideal and more about a temperament, an inner rhythm that shapes how De Santis moves through rooms, through duties, through memory. Sorrentino resists the familiar sentimental arcs of elderly protagonists; he neither exploits De Santis for emotional catharsis nor sanctifies him. If the character is idealized at all, it is done with restraint, never in a way that cheapens the emotional core.
From an individual perspective, we witness Santis aging with grace, but from another angle, it is easy to see Italy embodied in Santis himself. In the shot where Santis sits alone on a leather armchair with his headphones on, the busts visible over his right and left shoulders resemble both the epaulettes of a country that inherited the legacy of the Roman Empire and the weight falling upon its shoulders—or perhaps both at once. The title he bears gives him power and pride, but the responsibilities it brings have left Santis a tired and lonely man. Reflecting Italy through the gracefully aged Santis with unmistakable pride, La Grazia may not find what it hopes for at the 97th Academy Awards, yet it is not difficult to imagine that the film has already secured a place in the hearts of patriotic Italians. From the Italian-flag air show to the heroic hymns sung collectively around a table, this love of the homeland is one of the film’s dominant themes.
At this point, we might pause the flow of the text to adopt a different perspective by looking at the documentary Futura(2021, Francesco Munzi, Pietro Marcello, Alice Rohrwacher). In the documentary, young people from different regions of Italy—city centers, Roma neighborhoods, outer districts—are asked about their dreams for the future. Although the answers vary depending on their socioeconomic backgrounds, a striking commonality appears in all of them: dreams of leaving Italy. Whether big or small, not a single dream had Italy as its destination. On the other hand, in the nostalgic video footage woven into the documentary, young people in post–world-war, impoverished Italy are seen reciting classical poetry by heart, speaking far less hopelessly than today. This contradiction that exists in real life is nowhere to be found in La Grazia. La Grazia presents clean, aesthetic, elegant ideals.
Speaking of elegance and aesthetics, one cannot fail to mention Italian fashion, because in La Grazia, fashion too parades down the red carpet. Especially the suits—classic cuts, tailored to the body, made of Italian fabrics—cashmeres, Italian shoes… La Grazia radiates a clear sense of aesthetic refinement. As much in the clothing as in interior designs, furniture, and the paintings on the walls. What surrounds De Santis is the aesthetic of his own era, while when he blends into the public, we encounter a more modern yet still refined visual style. Sorrentino’s meticulous attention to costume and production design is evident to the very end.






Continuing with aesthetics, it is also appropriate to mention the harmony between the film’s cinematography and its narrative. The extraordinary papal looks we are familiar with from Sorrentino’s The Young Pope (2016) reappear in the De Santis–Pope encounters; the Portuguese President’s fantastical dance on the red carpet evokes the aesthetics of a music video. The strongest example of narrative harmony comes from two complementary scenes. First, the prison visit where his daughter sits across from the first inmate awaiting pardon, her posture versus the inmate’s posture, and their alignment with the rainbow mural on the wall mirror almost exactly the scene of De Santis’ own prison visit. The shot of De Santis sitting across from the second inmate reflects the difference between the daughter’s and De Santis’ perspectives.




At this point, we can move on to one of the film’s main themes: the relationship between justice and pardon. In the film’s opening, part of the President’s constitutional duties is recited, making the message very clear for what lies ahead. As President, De Santis must make certain legal decisions. Some of these are societal decisions, such as the right to euthanasia, while others are more limited, such as individual pardons; the film includes examples of both. Having lived a balanced, risk-averse life, will De Santis take a risk in the final period of his presidency? We chase this question until the end of the film.
Sorrentino does not refrain from adding a personal story among these serious matters. Alongside the two pardon cases he is working on, there is one more unresolved case from the past: a reckoning with and forgiving of the past shaped around the death of his beloved wife, who had cheated on him. Although this subplot is not deeply moving, it adds a human dimension to De Santis beyond his political persona—as a man, a husband, a friend, a father. In this sense, one could say that La Grazia weaves together the personas of statesman and lonely man/husband/friend/father into a clean, safe pattern without taking too many risks.
Finally, we must not overlook the film’s use of music, which heightens its humor. “Surf Rider” and “5 Mins of Acid” practically become the signatures of La Grazia, lightening the film’s seriousness; they suit the mischievous, playful side De Santis carries beneath his serious, cold exterior.
To summarize, the film’s strengths include the harmonious interplay of themes that touch on all meanings of la grazia, masterful production design with a well-established style, strong performances especially by Toni Servillo, well-placed humorous touches and dynamic music accompanying a well-paced tempo. Its weaknesses lie in the disconnect created by its idealization, its risk-free progression through safe territory, and its lack of a truly new or surprising subject or style. Ultimately, La Grazia may not be Sorrentino’s best film, but it can certainly be counted among the best films of 2025.
Author: Zeynep Bakanoğlu


