It may only be February, but Paolo Sorrentino’s Parthenope could very well take the cake as the most beautiful film of 2025. Early on in the famed Italian auteur’s newest film, the streets of Naples circa 1968 are basked in the golden sunlight reflected off the water of the Mediterranean Sea. Men, women, and children populate every corner and avenue, all dressed in the works of Anthony Vaccarello, creative director of the luxury fashion house Yves Saint Laurent. At this moment, you understand exactly what Kate Hudson was singing and dancing about in Rob Marshall’s film adaptation of Nine.

In those same waters eighteen years earlier, the titular Parthenope was born. Her godfather, the shipping tycoon boss of her father, gifted her a chariot from Versailles as a crib so that she could travel the world as she slept. He also insisted that the family name her after the mythological name of coastal Naples, bestowing her with thousands of years of blessings and curses. Like the streets in that opening, one of those blessings is her unparalleled beauty. Men start drooling like cartoon characters before going into a catatonic state just at the sight of her, and women understand that she puts them all to shame just by comparison. One of those slobbering dogs is Sandrino (Dario Aita), the son of her family’s maid. He’s fawned over her his entire life, even succumbing to sniffing her drying bathing suit just to get closer to a goddess.

Despite Parthenope being aware of the power her beauty possesses, she isn’t sure how to best wield it. She keeps those ogling men at bay, all of them treating her as a trophy to acquire. They all ask her what she’s thinking, but they never listen to her response. When she rejects the advances of a rich man who makes inquiries from his helicopter, he lashes by saying “You’re not a big deal.” Film acting initially seems to be the best use of her talent, although the fate of every actress is never pretty. She eventually lands in academia, specifically anthropology, a natural fit considering her voracious reading habits and need to always have a ready answer for those inquisitive men.

Academia is where Sorrentino steadies the sights of his screenplay for the rest of the runtime, ruminating on the complexities of love, youth, and beauty. As evidenced by his previous works of Youth and The Great Beauty, these are not newfound themes for Sorrentino. What’s new for the director is centering his epic tale on a woman, specifically in a time and place when women were rarely given the chance to do so. When Parthenope asks her father what would help lift him of his depression, he selfishly looks her up and down and responds that a grandchild might help.

While all of its ideas are communicated through the utmost sensuality in both the setting and performances, much of Sorrentino’s dialogue gets lost in its flowery translation. Their prettiness is what also makes them vapid, a contradiction to the ultimate goal of this story. It’s why the more direct conversations between Parthenope and author John Cheever (Gary Oldman), soaking his new novel in alcohol and repressed homosexuality, leave a more lasting impression despite their brevity.

There is also the dichotomy between a writer/director insisting that a woman is more than just her beauty, only to indulgently lens her as if she’s beckoning you to buy the newest line of perfume. Newcomer Celeste Dalla Porta is radiantly beautiful and intriguing in the lead role, imbuing Parthenope with much more depth than the script reluctantly presents. Even if this amounts to style over substance, the performances and overwhelming seductiveness are temptingly attractive. For Sorrentino, the style is just as much the substance as the substance itself.