Russell Square underground station, opened in 1906, is aesthetically pleasing with its beautiful tiling.
I like to amble slowly along the platform here after getting off a train, savouring the station’s elegant design.
But it does not provide the most efficient transition from the bowels of the earth up to the surface.
You have to wait for a lift to shuttle you and your fellow passengers up to the light of the day.
There is no escalator.
There are, however, steep winding stairs leading up and out but signs discourage travellers from using these stairs, indicating that they are for emergency use only.
We are not in any particular hurry when we get off the train at Russell Square this Saturday afternoon, so we patiently wait for the lift along with everyone else rather than ascending the forbidden stairs.
Outside the station, we cross Bernard Street and walk into the Brunswick shopping centre, within which the excellent Curzon Renoir cinema is located.
Our timing is perfect, as we happen upon a terrific collection of outdoor food stalls serving tasty morsels from various countries including Poland, Japan, Spain, Italy, and elsewhere.
It is late afternoon so the stalls will be closing soon, but we are in time to order some great snacks from three of the stalls.
We get some terrific takoyaki from the Japanese stall, which is run by a guy from Osaka, Japan’s takoyaki capital. It’s good to watch the takoyaki mixture being poured into the griddle and sizzling as it solidifies in the small scooped moulds.
After wolfing down the takoyaki, we then get an absolutely delicious duck sandwich from the Polish stall. The duck is crisp and full of flavour. The sign on the stall says that you can have your choice of either red cabbage or rocket to accompany the duck, but the friendly guy serving at the stall puts in both the cabbage and the rocket for me, probably because it’s nearly closing time and he doesn’t need to keep any back.
The final snack we go for, at a Mediterranean stall, is a portion of very good chicken and chorizo paella served from a splendid, huge, circular pan that must be at least a metre across.
We have eaten very well, for pretty cheap prices, happily sitting out in the open air on one of the benches near the food stalls on this grey September afternoon.
The takoyaki, duck sandwich, and paella have set me up perfectly for today’s film, The Great Beauty, an Italian film written and directed by Paolo Sorrentino. In Italian, the film’s title is La Grande Bellezza.
I arrive at the cinema just as the audience from the previous showing of ‘The Great Beauty’ is coming out after the end of their showing.
One group of three people seem to be slightly dazed and confused by what they have just seen.
“What happened to the stripper, though?” one of them asks her two companions. “She spent her money on…what?”
A different group of friends seem less confused and more impressed by the film.
“Did you enjoy the film?”
“Yes, it was wonderful. Wonderful.”
‘The Great Beauty’ is showing in Screen 2 of the Curzon Renoir cinema.
This Saturday evening showing is well attended and the auditorium is almost full.
Several spectators enter the auditorium clutching large glasses of fine wine.
The clientele here clearly appreciate the finer things in life.
Seat numbers are not allocated, so I grab a seat on the back row, which gives a good view of the screen.
Before the lights go down, I wonder how distracting the pillar in the middle of the room will be. But when the film starts, the pillar is not distracting at all.
Having been impressed by the sumptuous trailer for ‘The Great Beauty’, my expectations are high. I am delighted when the film turns out to be even better than I had expected.
In fact, ‘The Great Beauty’ is a masterpiece.
Visually, it is ravishingly beautiful. Its rendering of Rome is quite sublime, and puts to shame Woody Allen’s postcard cliché version of the city in To Rome with Love.
The superb music soundtrack also plays a huge role in making The Grand Beauty the exhilarating triumph that it is, seamlessly gliding from decadent rooftop party beats to gorgeous choral song to bittersweet acoustic folksiness.
This film provides a masterclass in how to integrate music into the heart of the film rather than treating the music as a mere afterthought.
The acting in ‘The Grand Beauty’ is magnificent, by the whole cast and particularly by Toni Servillo as the ageing, suave intellectual Jeb Gambardella, who is reflecting increasingly ruefully on his life.
Whilst Servillo is undoubtedly the star, the other actors who populate this film are also excellent, such as Carlo Verdone (Romano), Sabrina Ferilli (Ramona), Pamela Villoresi (Viola), Galatea Ranzi (Stefania), Carlo Buccirosso (Lello Cava).
Great scenes abound in this memorable film: journalist Gambardella interviewing a pretentious performance artist who refuses to answer his questions; the rooftop parties, oozing Roman decadence and style; the night-time scene of the acquaintance who handily owns a set of keys allowing after-hours access to palatial rooms in which the timeless sculptures and statues seem to come alive as the light falls on them before they retreat back into darkness; Gambardella walking wistfully around the city, both in daylight and at night, quiet contemplative moments to balance the exuberant party scenes; the conversations between Gambardella and his editor, witty and urbane commentaries on Italian life and culture; and Romano, who finally heeds his friend Gambardella’s advice to write something original rather than putting on adaptations of established works by other authors, but who then, after a nicely understated reading accompanied by guitar, surprisingly decides to leave Rome after so many years there in order to return to his home town.
What a film ‘The Great Beauty’ is.
The rest of the audience emerging from the Curzon Renoir seem as elated as I am by what we have just seen.
Related Post: ‘Pain and Glory’, Dundee Contemporary Arts (DCA)