There are two ways one can perceive Paolo Sorrentino’s Parthenope. You can either conclude it’s the old man losing his marbles and making an almost two-and-a-half-hour exposition of how the male gaze works. Or it can be taken as a sort of introspection—of life, beauty, and youth. Quite naturally, the appeal of Parthenope depends on how you take it. Hopefully, by the end of this article, you’ll be able to form an opinion about it.
Spoilers Ahead
What Happens In The Movie?
A siren that seduces sailors with her voice—that’s what ‘Perthenope’ means in Greek mythology. Going by that, being born in the waters of picturesque Naples is only fitting for the titular character. She’s named by this old aristocrat named Commander, who eventually jokes about whether Parthenope would have married him if he was forty years younger. Commander sees her affectionately, though, but that doesn’t mean he’s not bewildered by her charm, like most men in the movie. The first appearance of adult Parthenope just happens to be Celeste Dalla Porta—who plays the part—coming out of the same water where she was born, as Sandri, one of her many admirers, lustfully gazes at her. Sandri is the maid’s son—although that’s completely irrelevant, as that doesn’t stop him from being part of an unfortunate love triangle, with Parthenope’s own brother Raimondo being the other male suitor. That effectively means Raimondo is doomed for life, as he can’t have who he desires—his sister—and no other woman in the world are as glorious as his sister.
Why does Raimondo kill himself?
Inarguably the most exciting part of the movie, the Capri segment is what defines Parthenope (both the movie and the character). If I have to sum up the whole thing, then this is basically many men—the ones who matter in the context of the story—competing for Parthenope’s attention. That’s not the case with aging American writer John Cheever (played by the always impeccable Gary Oldman), though. He’s a man who has lived his whole life in the closet, and he’s fascinated by her beauty and youth. In a way, it’s like she’s living the life he always wished for—wild and carefree. Considering all the other men—Raimondo, Sandri, and a businessman who keeps trying to pursue her for a helicopter date and then sex—are massively objectifying her, it’s only natural for Parthenope to get drawn to Cheever. But he rightfully chooses not to take a single minute of her time, as that would be him stealing her youth. Cheever’s character is inspired by the real-life American poet (of the same name) and seems to be an amalgamation of characters from Sorentino’s own previous works—Youth (2015) and The Great Beauty (2013).
Let us now look into the tragedy that changes Parthenope’s life – Raimondo’s suicide. His death was a sure thing the moment he fell for his sister. It’s not that she didn’t indulge it, but Parthenope was never meant to be the ‘love’ of any individual, let alone her own brother. Raimondo tried his best to evade his destiny, though, in fact, in Capri we see him trying it out with another woman. But then it clearly appears to be an attempt to make Parthenope jealous. Upon realizing it’s quite impossible for him to see her with anyone else, especially Sandri, Raimondo chooses to end his misery. Not only does Parthenope never recover from it, she also has to deal with her parents putting the blame on her. This also puts a full stop on Sandri’s chances with her; in fact, in a later scene, we find out Parthenope holds him accountable for Raimondo’s death. That scene also serves as a metaphor for Sandri finally giving up on his ‘maiden’ quest, if you know what I mean. He’s never gonna get over her though, even when he’s married and has a few children; as Parthenope doesn’t hesitate to let him know.
What’s the significance of anthropology in the movie?
To be very honest, I am not a fan of the bare-bones anthropology angle of the plot, despite understanding the ‘what’ and ‘why’ of it. The movie’s most profound male character, Professor Moratta, describes the subject—that anthropology is mostly about observing—explains the necessity of it. That’s a question (what is an anthology?) the movie keeps dangling in front of us, from the very first time Parthenope and Moratta meet. He’s, perhaps, the only man who sees through her and realizes that she’s a woman who doesn’t want to weaponize her beauty to conquer the world. She genuinely wants to learn in order to do something meaningful. But the entire arc is so vague that it becomes tedious to watch. The very in-your-face introduction of Moratta’s grotesque son—a giant-sized, obsessive man made of seawater, who can’t move but has a killer sense of humor—in the final fifteen minutes also doesn’t serve much purpose.
I suppose the problem with Sorentino’s narrative is that anything after Raimondo’s death feels unnecessary, except Parthenope’s interaction with Sandri when the two of them (inevitably) reminisce about what happened in Capri. It probably wouldn’t be an exaggeration if I said the second half of the movie feels like watching a long, never-ending epilogue that can be badly described as Parthenope trying her hand at acting until realizing anthropology is her true calling. The inclusion of two other female characters—acting coach Flora Malva and fading diva Greta Cool—does add some value to it, but only superficially. Just like Professor Moratta’s son, Malva’s character – who has a disfigured face and always wears an aesthetic looking (like everything else in the movie) black mask – is another example of Parthenope being a person who sees through the generic definition of beauty. It is further confirmed by Tezoron, an ugly bishop who’s able to seduce Parthenope. I should clarify that I don’t necessarily believe in reducing the physical appearance of a person to just ‘ugly’ and ‘beautiful,’ but here it is needed, contextually.
Why doesn’t Parthenope return to Naples until she’s old?
I really liked how Sorentino simultaneously manages to show his admiration for Naples, from where he originally hails, and also the importance of getting out of it. Greta Cool’s monologue about how the people of Naples are practically rotting, living their sorry little lives, filled with desire and despair—the peep show Parthenope attends with one of her suitors has to be the physical representation of that—has utmost significance here. I would like to believe that is what nudged Parthenope to move out to the North when she got the opportunity to teach at Norte University (thanks to Professor Moratta). Her choice of not coming back has a lot to do with the kind of experience she had in Naples. By her own admission, she pretty much hated her life there. Older Parthenope asking a younger colleague not to name her unborn female child Parthenope, as well as her not sharing anything about her life at Naples further proves how much she needed to get away. One might wonder why she would choose to return to Naples after her retirement, which can be easily explained with one word—nostalgia. Looking back at the roots might just be the sign of one getting closer to death, which is Parthenope’s case. The movie’s ending, where she looks at a parade of Napoli’s celebration upon winning the Serie A (the Italian football league) with a bittersweet smile, is an indication of that.
