There are two ways to view House of Gucci, the biographical drama directed by Ridley Scott, who depicts the circumstances leading up to the murder of Maurizio Gucci, heir to arguably the most prestigious fashion brand in history. The first is to look at it as a darkly comical voyage into the past, one where Scott makes use of some exaggerated stereotypes in engaging ways, and gives us unfettered insights into a few decades in the lives of these powerful characters. The second is to consider it a work of grand opera, and excessive and melodramatic crime epic that covers some of the most thrilling moments in the history of a company that has always stood for quality and status, despite the dubious dealings that went on behind closed doors. Regardless of where one stands on the divide (if they even want to consider it a divide – for some, this film entails the best of both, and in many ways this is where its most sincere success can be found), it’s almost entirely impossible to call it boring or anything other than thoroughly entertaining. Scott is arguably not the most consistent director – his rapid pace of work has made him one of Hollywood’s most prolific directors, but much like many directors who work at such a fast rate, there are often dips in quality. House of Gucci is by no means his masterpiece, nor is it one that necessarily belongs in the pantheon of his greatest work – but when it comes to making a thrilling and engaging crime epic, Scott is difficult to usurp, as proven by this film. The journey taken by House of Gucci from the page to the screen is filled with twists and turns, much like the narrative itself – but as one of the year’s most bombastic and enthralling dramas, it’s a challenge to not be overwhelmed by the sheer spectacle – and for better or worse, this film is undeniably memorable, for reasons that may vary based on each viewer’s interpretation and level of appreciation for what Scott is doing here.

For all intents and purposes, House of Gucci is not a particularly complex film – Scott is a director who has mainly focused on more straightforward stories, mostly leaving the days of more experimental work behind. It has allowed him to produce several films in the span of time it takes his contemporaries to make one, perpetually keeping him active and working – and while some may find this too excessive (after all, this is one of two films directed by Scott released in the past three months, which is impressive to say the least), there’s a level of respectability for a veteran filmmaker continuously staying active and busy, even if it is with a film that is more dependent on the screenplay (here written by            Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna, after a decade-long series of rewrites by a number of different screenwriters) and the actors, who are really the main spectacle here. There is an unhinged level of madness that takes place throughout this film, and Scott’s responsibility as director wasn’t necessarily to guide the proceedings, but just to capture the madcap chaos, siphoning it into the form of a coherent and interesting narrative. Tonally, House of Gucci is inconsistent (as mentioned above, its never quite sure of the extent to which it takes these characters seriously – it is frequently caught between a dark comedy and a very serious drama, oscillating between the two at a breakneck speed), and it often struggles to grasp the exact meaning of what it wants to say – but like any Scott film, there’s a hard-earned grit that defines this film and makes it such a unique experience – it may not be great art, but its certainly extremely entertaining, especially when it finds a groove in which it is willing to rest for a few moments, which is when the film really starts to feel like it is coming into its own.

On the subject of areas in which the film does exceptionally well, House of Gucci boasts quite an eclectic cast, taking advantage of the sprawling cast of characters associated with the rise and fall of Gucci to form a fascinating ensemble, populated by several tremendously gifted actors. Choosing a standout is difficult, since everyone is doing something noteworthy – Lady Gaga proves that her incredible performance in A Star Is Born was not an accident, playing the maniacal and scheming Patrizia Reggiani with the kind of steadfast confidence we’d expect from someone who has been acting for decades. Adam Driver, who continues to establish himself as one of the most genuinely gifted actors of his generation, plays the tragic Maurizio, whose murder inspired this story – and the actor gives a completely different performance than the embodiment of pure malice in his other collaboration with Scott this year, The Last Duel. However, as tremendous as the leading actors may be, its the supporting cast that has the most interesting performances, with acting legends Jeremy Irons and Al Pacino turning in solid work as Rodolfo and Aldo Gucci, the founding brothers of Gucci, who took their family name and made it into an empire, the likes of which have rarely been seen. Irons in particular is possibly giving the best performance in the film – he has the smallest of the central roles, but he leaves the most lasting impression, and yet again reminds us of what a brilliant actor he is. Finally, there’s Jared Leto – I’m not entirely sure whether he is giving a good performance or a terrible one, but it’s certain that he is doing something with the role of Paolo Gucci, turning in one of the year’s most deranged, yet oddly compelling, portrayals. Leto, who has been desperately trying to morph himself into a chameleonic character actor, finally succeeds – and while it is a performance designed to be divisive, something about it works, and he eventually becomes the most memorable part of the film, single-handedly making this essential viewing, if only to see how he manages to chew every bit of scenery available to him, stealing absolutely every scene in which he appears, which is an impressive achievement considering the calibre of talent present in the film.

One of the more respectable criticisms surrounding House of Gucci is that it really doesn’t know exactly what it wants to be. On one hand, it seems like a film that wants to have a good time, launching the viewer directly into this world, which is filled to the brim with luxury and excess, which has rarely been a hindrance in terms of looking at films centred on the rich and famous. On the other, it does its best to be a sobering and realistic portrayal of the Gucci family and their various controversies over the years, all filtered through the Machiavellian eyes of an outsider who weasels her way into the clan, and does her best to play each member against each other. To its credit, it is clear what the intention of this film was – it was clearly written to take the form of a carefully constructed game of chess, whereby there is a power struggle between the family and the woman brought in through marriage, and where the latter relishes in her ability to control every move that occurs afterwards. This is a reliable, if not frequently common, technique used in such stories, and House of Gucci is certainly not going to warrant much praise based on its use of a storytelling tactic about as old as literature itself. The problem comes in how there is often a bit of difficulty in working towards the ultimate goal – we know how this story ends (not necessarily based on anything that occurs early in the film, but rather general knowledge of the real-life events that inspired it), so everything that happens is really just filling the space between the fateful meeting of two lovers, and the violent crime that ended what was an immediately toxic relationship from the start. The film doesn’t realize how much potential is lurking in the interpersonal relationships that define the film – while it may not entirely squander it (there are many scenes that see immensely fascinating interactions), it doesn’t reach its full potential, and the breakneck speed at which the film moves (covering nearly two decades in the Gucci saga) doesn’t do it any favours, especially not when it is clear that there was the potential for absolute greatness simmering just below the surface of this film.

However, none of this actually amounts to much, since there isn’t really anything that can be considered necessarily poor about the film, at least in terms of how it tells the story. There is a considerable lack of colour, which can be quite impactful for a film focused on the fashion industry. However, this colourless, dull view of the normally vibrant cities of Rome and New York is a choice that ultimately seems intentional – the few bursts of colour add life to an otherwise lifeless, difficult existence for the main character, who aspires to become a part of a world that doesn’t seem all that interested in having her, at least not at the start, before she realizes the potential she has to command even the most powerful figures that govern much of the culture. House of Gucci is a film about playing a series of games – it shows life as something that can be easily manipulated with the right conviction, and where control is gained through nothing but the right amount of confidence. Perhaps this is reading too much into the film – after all, Scott is likely to be the last person to depend on subtext to get a message across, and House of Gucci is about as subtle as Leto’s performance (which is to say, not even close) – but it adds nuance to an otherwise very simple story that actually strives to do something with its narrative, rather than simply providing a play-by-play recounting of the real-life events. It ultimately makes an enormous difference, since this is a film that is actually aspiring to be something – whether or not it achieves that is another matter entirely, but it’s foolish to think that it lacked ambition, which it has in an abundance. Perhaps this is where House of Gucci comes closest to unearthing its downfall – there was simply too much going on here to fully allow us to surrender to the absolute madness that serves as the foundation of the story, and while it doesn’t entirely distract or detract from the overall experience, it does impact it to the point where it feels almost inappropriately flippant at times. However, in these moments, Scott seems to regain the self-awareness, and defaults into a kind of over-the-top comedy that is simply impossible to resist, particularly for those enamoured with the theatre of the absurd, into which this is most certainly a firm entry.

House of Gucci is one of the year’s most unforgettable spectacles – an over-the-top, excessive experience that exists at the perfect intersection between melodrama and dark comedy. There is a genuine voracity that underpins the film, and makes it something quite special, even if we need to think critically about whether we’re in love with the film, or simply enamoured with the way in which it was made. However, as was elegantly described by the main character, it is important that we don’t focus on the process, but rather the final result – and in this case, the final result is a daring and fascinating crime drama that may lack subtlety, but more than compensates for these shortcomings through possessing the sheer and absolute gall to just succumb to the madness that was circling on the outskirts. It makes for a profoundly entertaining, and often quite impactful, glimpse into the past. It’s far from a film that respects its characters as much as it is fascinated by the endless array of absurdities that govern society, particularly of those with power, money and influence. If there is a message to this film, it would be that the higher one’s status, the more likely they are to fall victim to the excess, not only in terms of material desires, but the very carnal lust for dominance over one’s territory. Patrizia Reggiani is one of the most interesting case studies of this concept, and House of Gucci presents us with quite an intimidating profile of the character as she navigates the high-stakes world of the elite few that have the opportunity to have anything they desire – and yet, she yearns for more than anyone is able to offer, which leads to the central conflict of the film. For better or worse, Scott made a fascinating film that may not always be entirely successful as a coherent narrative, but achieves something much more profound, based solely on the devil-may-care execution, which fits oddly well with the common tendency for biographical films to prove that reality is often far stranger than fiction, which has rarely been better encapsulated than it was here, proving that, even when it is an excessive jumble with tonal and pacing issues, that there is some merit that can make this as entertaining experience as someone could possibly expect.