Paolo Sorrentino loves roads. In nearly every one of his films, characters undergo a variety of journeys, whether it be physical, mental or spiritual. There is something about the idea of undergoing a shift, either in location or mentality, that drives several of his films. As the ancient adage goes, “all roads lead to Rome”, and this is employed quite literally in The Hand of God (Italian: È stata la mano di Dio), the director’s most recent effort. As a longtime admirer of Sorrentino, it’s easy to fall in love with his films, even when he’s telling a story that is as detached from his own experiences as one can get, both culturally and geographically, with the director managing to find components of even the most abstract story on to which to assert his own peculiar but unforgettable vision. Yet, this film is something entirely different, even by the director’s standards – by far his most personal film (as it was explicitly based on his own upbringing, in particular a specific day that was simultaneously his most joyful and most upsetting), The Hand of God is the special kind of film that the labour of love, a project that carries with it an enormous intensity, a kind of peculiar candour that can only come from a director as deeply invested in telling this story, which has clearly brought his as much pleasure as it has pain, and giving audiences the chance to leap into his own childhood, which was filled with both joy and tragedy, all of which is infused into every frame of this film, a stunning and heartbreaking manifesto on the nature of existence, and the challenges the come when one attempts to grow up in a world that doesn’t make much sense. A beautifully-complex and incredibly resonant coming-of-age story that feels both traditional and experimental, the film works through some difficult subject matter to emerge as a poignant reminder of the volatility of life, and the importance of cherishing every moment.

Sorrentino is an absolute genius, but somehow stepping away from the grandiose stories of Italian politico-cultural standards and social mores resulted in arguably his most impactful film to date, one that manages to possibly surpass even The Great Beauty, which is quite simply one of the greatest films of the 21st century. When a work of art is produced that bears the label of being about the creator’s own upbringing, audiences are likely going to become even more invested in the work, especially if it is an individual with whom we have an existing relationship as an audience. Sorrentino has made several films, each one of them absolutely magnificent in their own ways – yet, the one that stands out the most is the film based on his own life, where the director works through some very difficult moments in his childhood, repurposing them in the form of this gorgeous drama that uses reality, not as a persistent guideline, but rather as a point from which it can freely leap into the endless sea of potential that awaits it, Sorrentino never being restricted by even the most fundamental facts, choosing to tell the story of his life, whether it be the joyful moments that gave it meaning, or the tragic events that taught him about the unexpected nature of reality. The Hand of God is a film that warrants our attention solely on the merits of how Sorrentino, already a seasoned veteran that is arguably one of the most important filmmakers in contemporary Italian cinema, manages to take himself back to those early years of adolescence, where his ambitions were huge, and his lust for life consistently kept him on the path towards spiritual and emotional salvation, especially in the aftermath of a harrowing tragedy.

The Hand of God is undeniably a tragic film – yet, it rarely plays as one. Even in the most heartbreaking scenarios, there is a musicality to the film, a kind of gentle humour that not only breaks the tension, but reminds us of the importance of finding joy in even the bleakest moments. This film has many different themes, the two primary ones being the importance of family, and the inevitability of death. The two themes collide in how the film explores the grieving process, with Sorrentino basing the story around his parent’s own demise on the same day as Diego Maradona’s historical goal, which has been popularly dubbed as the “Hand of God” in the decades since. There is certainly an abundance of material that the director had to work with here, and he very smartly doesn’t attempt to cast a wide net over his entire childhood – we meet the stand-in for the director (a young man named Fabietto) in his teenage years, caught in the awkward space between adolescence, where he is allowed to be a bit more reckless, and adulthood, which represents the start of an uncertain future. Added to these existential ponderings is the tragic event that forces him to mature much faster than he was expecting – and while he is still in the process of mourning, he realizes that there is a world waiting for him on the outside, the exploration of which serves to be the most healing experience. It takes a great deal of talent and narrative prowess to somehow find humour in such a tragic event, but Sorrentino has consistently proven himself someone who has a firm grasp on his craft, having the ability to plumb even the most haunting emotional depths and find something that can be filtered through his distinctive lens of heartwarming, humanistic humour, which adds depth to his stories, especially one that is based on his own life.

A further quality of Sorrentino’s films is that they are multimodal – they look at both a geographical region (in this case, the stunning coastline of Napoli, where most of the story takes place), and the individuals that populate it. The Hand of God features an ensemble cast of supremely gifted actors, ranging from promising newcomers to seasoned veterans. At the front of the cast is Filippo Scotti, who makes his film debut as the character based on the director himself, a young man interested in art and philosophy, and who begins to depend on this passion to get through the difficult days following the death of his parents. Scotti is astonishing, never once falling into the same set of conventions normally used by young actors when giving their first performance, instead making sure that his interpretation of Fabietto paid appropriate tribute to Sorrentino’s childhood, playing the younger version of the director with a spirited honesty that makes for an enthralling depiction of his younger years. Toni Servillo (one of the director’s most significant muses, and who has done some of his best work under Sorrentino’s guidance) plays the role of his father, a man who was determined to give his son the best possible life, while teaching him how to look beyond what others expect, instead finding joy in the most insignificant situations, never being afraid to laugh out of turn or ask the difficult question, knowing that these moments sometimes mean more than mere decorum. Performances by Betti Pedrazzi, Luisa Ranieri and Massimiliano Gallo (and several others) are inarguably much smaller roles, but they leave as much of an impact as that of the central characters, serving an important purpose, since The Hand of God defines itself as a tapestry of a family, each member of this expansive clan (whether relations by both blood and mere association) being a fully-formed, fascinating individual that exists within Sorrentino’s beautiful and striking version of the world, their faces reflecting deep and insightful details about his childhood, which are conveyed with spirited enthusiasm by the entire ensemble.

Essentially, while grief and family are the primary themes, The Hand of God is really a film that looks at everything as a love story. There are numerous forms of romance embedded in this film, which is not a rare occurrence for Sorrentino, who manages to find beauty in absolutely every scenario across his films. It is a love letter to Italy, with the country he grew up in being shown in incredible detail – he may be critical of some aspects of society, but he never casts a single derisory glance on his home nation, which is portrayed with such intricate detail, the sweeping locales of Naples being exquisitely captured by Daria D’Antonio’s camera. It is a love story for family, with the tender approach to looking at the main character’s relationship with several members of his family being some of the most heartwarming moments in the film, as well as the foundation for the most tragic when he is struck with the realization that those moments were finite. Finally, The Hand of God is a film about the love of the past – Sorrentino clearly still carries an abundance of pain from the death of his parents, having spoken openly about how he waited to tell this story. Such trauma may never heal in most instances, so the engaging way in which the director leaps into his own past and addresses these horrifying events, choosing to find the intricate beauty in such situations, is beyond admirable, and shows that the director may hold a deep sadness for the past, but he is far from opposed from actively exploring the days before and after this tragedy, turning his grief into a beautiful story that reminds us of the importance of cherishing each moment – whether it be relishing in national pride, or appreciating our loved ones, who many of us take for granted until it is too late. Love is a common concept, but one that isn’t always delivered perfectly – Sorrentino has constantly mastered different interpretations of the theme, and infuses them all into this absolutely stunning film.

In many ways, it seems appropriate that this film centres on the titular event, since The Hand of God may not be directly related to that historical moment (which is depicted as a relatively minor incident in comparison to the rest of the film), but rather uses it as the foundation for this stunningly beautiful character study. Sorrentino is conveying an incredibly powerful message – behind every celebratory event, there is a tragic incident just lurking out of view, and the director was one of the few people unfortunate enough to experience both in a single day. His candour in being able to not only revisit this painful moment in his past, but to reconfigure it into this beautiful story of working through the grief and finding the silver lining in such an earth-shattering event only proves this film’s fundamental thesis, which is that, regardless of the challenges presented to us, there is a resilience to the human spirit that makes even the most insurmountable obstacles easily overcome, granted we understand that the path is rarely ever predictable. It took Sorrentino nearly a dozen films, and two decades in the industry, to finally muster the courage to tell this extremely personal story – and his courage in revisiting his past is justified with the fact that The Hand of God is an absolute masterpiece, a beautiful and poetic blend of comedy and drama, a bold familial odyssey, and philosophical epic that redefines the boundary of autobiographical storytelling. As a visual memoir of a creative maestro, or as a deeply personal manifesto on the experience of grief, the film is an absolutely stunning, well-constructed masterwork that changes the way we look at some of life’s most difficult experiences – and the fact that it makes us laugh along the way, adding heartful humour to the blistering tragedy, only proves Sorrentino’s undying belief that life is neither a comedy nor a tragedy, but simply a series of moments that we can never predict, but rather just anticipate will contain a multitude of surprises. Some are joyful, others incredibly sad – yet they’re all essential to a meaningful existence.