While I was sitting in front of my laptop watching The Leopard/Il Gattopardo, I found myself sometimes sleepy, sometimes attentive, but mostly disengaged. Shouldn't this series - based on a highly acclaimed novel by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa - be more emotionally potent, more blisteringly passionate? When Luchino Visconti adapted the book in 1963, his cinematic endeavor won the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival (it is now widely regarded as a classic and one of the greatest movies ever made). I have not seen Visconti's epic historical drama (a mistake I will rectify as soon as possible), but before entering into the world of this Netflix adaptation, I briefly glanced at the images from the 1963 film, and in those split seconds, my senses heightened. I mentally moved so close to the screen that if I hadn't closed the browser, I would have ended up watching the entire film at midnight. No such feverish sentiments ever came to the surface while I was in the company of this production. It's not exactly a dud, but it's merely able to shine faintly here and there.
The Leopard is at its best when it concentrates on the romance between Concetta (Benedetta Porcaroli) and Tancredi (Saul Nanni). He loves her; she loves him. At least, this is what everybody believes until Angelica (Deva Cassel) makes an appearance. Here is a girl who knows she is attractive and what men think about her. Don Calogero Sedara (Francesco Colella), Angelica's father, has raised her to be a self-confident person. The father-daughter duo is ambitious, and ambition is a quality that can also be found in Tancredi, which is why he marries Angelica and discards Concetta like spoiled milk. There is no real romance between Tancredi and Angelica. She is like an expensive, beautiful object for him - a prize he desires to win. Even Kim Rossi Stuart's Don Fabrizio Corbera, the prince of Salina, can't get rid of dirty thoughts regarding Calogero's daughter. He confesses to the priest (Paolo Calabresi) that he could have turned into a white bull and taken her then and there. This excess of libido strains Fabrizio's marriage (his wife knows all about his mistress).
The Leopard achieves emotional coherence when the camera is on the lovers. We easily identify their desires and conflicts; the actors are all fine, especially Rossi Stuart and Porcaroli. He infuses an animalistic force into Fabrizio's sexual drive, and she looks as fragile as a wilting flower when Concetta's heart is ruined. Then again, it's not just Fabrizio. Most men in The Leopard come across as animals - some of them are wolves in sheep's clothing. Tancredi, in fact, almost literally looks like a beast, thanks to a scar near his right eye. Still, many women want to sleep with this guy. What's so fascinating about him? Tancredi neither stimulates you intellectually nor does he dispense smooth, witty compliments that could make girls fall head over heels in love with him. Fabrizio mentions that there is a queue of women who want Tancredi. Are they all deaf and blind? But forget them; what does Fabrizio see in him? The prince adores this boy more than his own child. Is he impressed by his boldness, his daredevilry? If yes, then what does he think about the fact that this daring personality supports the enemy? The characters are mostly at arm's length from the audience. Despite their impressive skills, the actors only give you the impression of looking like professionals who can deliver dialogues competently. The Leopard uses them as chess pieces. Someone like Paolo, for the most part, sends warning signals from the sidelines and is later thrown under the spotlight for some time so that the show can hit you with a tragedy. It's an obvious, unimaginative manipulation technique. It would have been better if Paolo had more dimensions beyond the label of a "woke guy."
Due to the presence of Garibaldi and his army, Fabrizio finds it a bit difficult to travel to Donnafugata with his family. He apparently requires a permit, which the colonel refuses to give him. But Fabrizio notices that the colonel has a crush on Concetta, which gives rise to a wonderful scene where the patriarch moves his children like a puppet master pulling the strings. Fabrizio faces other problems due to the enemy; however, those issues don't get a nice dramatic treatment (the gravity is merely felt in the characters' lines), which is why they come across as trifling. Nonetheless, the main reason behind The Leopard's ineffectiveness is its weak visual style. The yellowish images look flat, textureless, and (sometimes) chintzy. The colorful costumes and grand sets are recorded impersonally. The Leopard is so preoccupied with admiring itself that it forgets to sustain its narrative rhythms, and its sentimental energy. As a result, that ball in Episode 6 seems to run for what seems like an eternity. No wonder you feel as old as the prince by the end of the scene. What's more, when The Leopard works, like when it mournfully observes the walls of Fabrizio's house for the last time, you only get a strong urge to read the book or watch the movie to see what this show has missed. As mentioned earlier, I will fix this error as soon as possible.
Final Score- [5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times