Luxury, brush and tinsel: is "House of Gucci" a film too well dressed?<

Stepping into House of Gucci is like stepping into a tidy dressing room. In Ridley Scott's film about a bloody page in the life of the Italian family, everything is perfectly in its place, well lit, destined to show itself in its most perfect light. Yet in the golden palaces, a crime is hatched which will stain the precious fabrics. On the masculine side: suits with an ideal drape, turtlenecks that flatter the line of a well-shaven jawline, and refined silk scarves. For women, bags and jewels that shine, heels on which one oscillates and dresses, or suits, whose neckline competes with powerfully streamlined cuts.

Every detail, from Jeremy Irons' fine mustache to Lady Gaga's brushing, every decor, the sumptuous villas where you hang your Klimt negligently in the entrance, exude opulence, luxury, tinsel. And too bad for the few anachronisms that dot the whole (according to a furtive shot of Karl Lagerfeld in the 1980s, a ball of hair in his arms, Choupette would be in his fourth or fifth life today). The ultra-literal soundtrack, between Pucci, Verdi, Blondie and Bowie, means to us for its part, and in case we have not understood it well, that we are in a kind of pop opera. House Of Gucci is thought to go as hard as a Lady Gaga title.

In video, "House of Gucci", the trailer

Marked land

Too bad, we would have liked the story of Patrizia Reggiani, convicted in 1998 of having ordered the assassination of her husband, Maurizio Gucci, to shift more towards the disheveled thriller, with a little excess, even bad taste or of assumed violence. Just as the complex family struggles that led to the sale of the Italian house to a foreign investor could have been handled. It's hard not to think of the Succession series which, with greater brilliance, has managed to extract all the tragedy, perversity and even ridicule from the quarrels between the rich and powerful.

We therefore enter House of Gucci as if on marked ground, when we would have liked to be jostled. The magnificent costumes almost seem to move independently, as if uninhabited. However, the actors, obviously all Oscar winners, do their best (when they don't do too much: watch out for Al Pacino's Italian accent and Jared Leto's “big-guignolades”). In the role of Maurizio, passive and hesitant heir, Adam Driver brings depth to a film which is sorely lacking in it. Lady Gaga, impeccable, certainly asserts her presence on the screen. But we expected perhaps a little more flamboyance from the interpreter of Bad Romance to embody the one who will appear, upon her release from prison in 2014, shopping with a parrot on her shoulder .

To listen to, the editorial staff's podcast

Ridley Scott's film does not go that far, stopping at the conviction of Patrizia in 1998, to twenty-nine years in prison. But, even if it means telling such an incredible saga, we would have liked to see in House of Gucci a crazier, more scruffy side, inspired by scandalous punchlines ("It's better to cry in a Rolls than to be happy on a bicycle") including " the black widow” had the secret. But a Gucci sweater doesn't scratch or sting.

The editorial staff advises you