Youth (2015)

Youth is special because it turns the big, scary subject of aging into something ravishing to look at and strangely comforting to sit with, like a long exhale in the clean Swiss mountain air. Paolo Sorrentino stages this luxury-lodge retreat as a playful, melancholy dreamscape where Michael Caine and Harvey Keitel—both effortlessly magnetic—trade wit, tenderness, and quiet regret with the ease of men who’ve lived a lot and know what’s worth saying. The film drifts between comedy, romance, and aching reflection, finding beauty in small gestures and grand images alike, while Rachel Weisz brings a fierce, human pulse to the emotional fallout around them. It’s not for viewers who need a tidy plot or constant momentum, but if you’re open to a visually sumptuous, wise, and gently surreal meditation on art, love, and the time we have left, it’s a deeply rewarding watch.

Youth is clearly aiming for a bittersweet, late-life meditation on art, regret, and friendship, wrapped in postcard-perfect Swiss luxury and Sorrentino’s trademark visual flair. When it works, Michael Caine and Harvey Keitel bring real warmth and weariness to the material, and a few moments land with quiet emotional punch. But be warned: it often mistakes grand statements for insight, leaning on unsubtle dialogue, showy symbolism, and epigrams that can feel more like fortune cookies than hard-earned wisdom. If you enjoy slow, stylized “meaning of life” films and can tolerate a bit of pomp (plus R-rated nudity and sexuality), you may find it hypnotic; if you want grounded storytelling or subtle writing, this can feel hollow and self-impressed.