Lidia Poët, the first modern female Italian lawyer, is undoubtedly one of the most inspiring figures. She started a movement demanding equal treatment for men and women in professional spaces. Despite getting an enrollment in the roll of lawyers with 45 votes, an appellate court found this enrollment illegal and disbarred her. Why? Because Lidia was a woman. What did Lidia do? She didn't give up. She fought and fought against the misogynistic system, and at the age of 65 years, she was enlisted in the record of the members of the Council of Lawyers and was officially recognized as a lawyer. When one thinks about such a woman, one sees a determined face burning with passion. This great depth, this fiery spirit, cannot be detected in the Lidia you meet in The Law According to Lidia Poët. Lidia's complexity, thoughts, and perseverance - her very soul - are reduced to theatrical expressions and simple bullet points that scream, "Women deserve respect." Then again, this Netflix show never claims to be a complex drama. It doesn't give you the impression of being anything else other than a six-hour-long, undemanding distraction.
This much becomes evident from the beginning when you notice the images' soft, almost dull colors and sense a tone that slides between amusement and indifference. The Law According to Lidia Poët doesn't show much enthusiasm towards the events. Significant developments occur casually as if the characters just woke up and decided to walk in a particular direction. A conversation is all it takes for someone to change her mind regarding a wedding-related decision. Doubts are introduced in her mind not through introspection but through the script's pages. Lidia finds Jacopo (Eduardo Scarpetta), a journalist, attractive, but she also grows fond of Fourneau (Gianmarco Saurino), a "royal prosecutor." None of these romances have passion. The headstrong lawyer looks at her love interests with a sufficient amount of warmth in her eyes, but this is all external behavior. The series is merely interested in appearances, so it fails to give the relationships convincing power. Lidia could have begun an affair with a third or a fourth man, and you wouldn't have cared much.
As the titular character, Matilda De Angelis sucks you into this story with her appealing presence. She gives some life to this bland material, which is something she also did in Citadel: Diana. Angelis doesn't exactly slip into her character. She brings so much enthusiasm to her performance that she ends up magnifying small gestures like a blink or a nod. We, in other words, are always aware of the fact that we are watching an actor. Angelis never lets us forget that we are observing her, not Lidia Poët. And yet, you enjoy spending time with her because the show itself is shallow. The Law According to Lidia Poët doesn't transport you to the Italy of the 1880s. The setting, the streets, the buildings - the whole architecture - looks fake or artificially generated. Angelis' performance appears to be in sync with the phony environment. We are almost always aware that we are watching something rehearsed and artificially created.
Still, I won't label all this as a bug but as a feature. You are attracted to the show's blandness - you don't feel like turning off your laptop. A character describes a conversation with Lidia as "stimulating," a compliment you cannot extend to this show. But...but... I didn't mind sitting through the six episodes of The Law According to Lidia Poët. I could have easily binge-watched six more episodes. This is precisely what I would describe as a "guilty pleasure," for lack of a better term (why feel guilty about enjoying a movie, a song, or a show?). The cases aren't suspenseful or thrilling enough, and instead of building a thought step-by-step, the show takes a leap when it comes to changing the minds of its characters. However, it's still compulsively watchable because of the actors, their characters, and their performances. Sara Lazzaro, as Teresa, tightens her facial muscles and looks like a caricature of an upright woman who wants to stay within rules and regulations and not offend anyone. Pier Luigi Pasino, as Enrico, has a puppy dog face and lean muscles. You see him and say, "Here is a man who cannot hurt a fly because he looks so sweet and innocent." Then there is Scarpetta, who reminds you of a young Javier Bardem.
In one of the episodes, the characters literally come across a ticking time bomb - an idea that might have sounded amusing on paper, but it's feebly executed. The Law According to Lidia Poët renders everything weightless. Hence, you might not feel as if you are seeing a new side of Lidia when she decides to bend the law to save someone. It's one of the many moments that simply come and go without leaving any impression on us. The only law this Lidia Poët follows is that the viewer shouldn't be burdened with heavy themes and complex notions. It presents its protagonist's zeal as something equivalent to a motivational Instagram quote. And despite all this, the show works because it knows it's a fast food. Consume it and move on.
Final Score- [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times