In director Paolo Sorrentino’s new film La Grazia, Tony Servillo portrays a fictitious Italian president, the ageing Mariano De Santis, who – in the last six months of his successful seven-year term – must grapples with two moral dilemmas.
De Santis must decide whether to sign into law a bill legalizing euthanasia, certain to end his friendship with the Pope, and whether to pardon two prisoners who killed their partners. He is meanwhile haunted by the knowledge that his late wife, for whom he grieves, was unfaithful.
Grazia (the word means "grace" and "pardon" in Italian) is the seventh collaboration between Sorrentino and Servillo, the most celebrated being 2013's Oscar-winning The Great Beauty.
Born in Afragola in metropolitan Naples in 1959, Servillo grew up in a strict household. It was only at boarding school that he gained confidence and began to relax.
Interviewed at the Venice film festival, where La Grazia bowed last August, Servillo talked about his doubts and joys as an actor and what sets De Santis apart from the real-life presidents whom he had previously played for Sorrentino: Giulio Andreotti in Il Divo (2008) and Silvio Berlusconi in Loro (2018).
PAMELA JAHN: Were you glad not to be playing a real politician this time?
TONI SERVILLO: Having to play a real character is always a burden. You feel the responsibility, even if they are not controversial political figures like Andreotti and Berlusconi. Plus, they were both still alive when the respective movies were released. You try to go against the public image that they present in the media and that the audience is aware of.
I think Paolo was trying to kind of chisel these characters in the memory of the people, like the symbols of a certain type of political culture. So there needed to be an element of surprise or abstraction, while with a fictional character, you can do anything. It completely frees your imagination. I'm not saying it's easier, but totally different.
Apart from being a fictitious character, in what ways does Mariano De Santis differ from, say, Berlusconi?
He's the complete opposite. De Santis is not at all vain; he is not trying to be spectacular. This man is someone who has a very deep and broad understanding of ethics and culture. He's a jurist, a widower, a father, a friend. Many of his decisions are driven by the relationship he has with his children and the deep love he still feels for his lost wife, but it's also his sense of justice and traditional Catholic values that guide him.
Are you personally a man of doubts like De Santis?
Very much so. I'm often tormented by my own fears. But I do believe that it's much better to nurture doubts than constantly pretend to have false certainties.
It sounds like you don't make decisions easily
I hate it. I don't make instinctive choices, probably. But when it comes to working with Paolo, it's different. He has always been fully convincing to me. Since the first script of his that I read, I was always very much persuaded by his writing. That doesn't mean, though, that I won't have reservations about my acting abilities. I once read a quote by a great French actor, Louis Jouvet, which I found very poignant. He believed that fear – often interpreted as a mixture of anxiety, vulnerability, and respect for the craft – is a necessary state for a true actor. That's what I go by every day.
What aspect of De Santis's inner life did you find most intriguing?
An actor must fall in love with the characters he is playing, no matter what. But I must say, I felt a lot of admiration for this old president, who is clumsy, and in his awkward way tries to adjust to the changing world around him. By doing so, he shows his own fragility. This is what I focused on in my portrayal of him. We are surrounded by people who show their muscles, who use a marketing type of language in the way they express themselves. De Santis is deeply vulnerable, which is what makes him so moving and special to me.
He's also full of sorrow and grief.
Love probably guides his actions and activities – and the excruciating pain that he feels since he lost his wife. This suffering is what makes the audience curious about him, and it's also what eventually pushes him to make certain political decisions, like granting pardons or not or signing the legislation on euthanasia. But rather than calling it sadness, I would say he's a man who is very reserved. He's very introverted, closed in on himself.
Are you yourself more of an extrovert – or do you have an introverted side?
Sometimes I feel as though I am both at the same time. These kinds of traits are very important for this profession, and one must draw on the interplay of such opposites.
De Santis is tired of being the president. Can you see yourself getting tired of acting?
Sure, it might happen. I don't believe in a vocation as something fixed and predetermined but more like something you build. Perhaps at a certain point, one might say, "Enough now, it's over." Right now, I love my job, but it's not the most important thing in my life. So who knows? But if I ever decide to step out of the job and leave for good, I will probably do it the way De Santis does in the film – I would choose a side door.
What does grace mean to you personally?
It's a word or an idea that has many definitions. One is given by De Santis. For him, it's the beauty of doubt. In the context of the film, this is related to a kind of behavioural attitude – it's a kind of sweetness.
I remember when The Great Beauty became extremely popular in France; they even created a new word to express the attitude of Jep Gambardella [the journalist and theatre critic played by Servillo] toward life. I'm not sure how to answer your question adequately, but I feel the world would probably be doing a lot better if we were to look at life a bit more like De Santis does.
Add comment