In the Hand of Dante, On Netflix

In Arturo Perez-Reverte’s The Club Dumas (but weirdly, not the inferior film adaptation, The Ninth Gate), a seedy bookseller searches for a rare early draft of The Three Musketeers. In this literary adaptation, the Macguffin is Dante Alighieri’s only surviving handwritten copy of The Divine Comedy. Originally, Johnny Depp also optioned Nick Tosches’ novel, featuring an unflatteringly fictionalized version of the author. The meta-Tosches will be spared demons and fallen angels, but the gangsters who hire him supply plenty of high stakes in Julian Schnabel’s In the Hand of Dante, which premieres today on Netflix.

We know from the prologue, Tosches once killed in self-defense as a pre-teen boy. Presumably, that means he can do it again. Also, this scene showcases Al Pacino, doing some of his most memorable work since Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Perhaps he should become king of the significant cameo.

Forty or so hard years later, Tosches boasts to gangster pal Lefty about how his long-in-the-works translation of Dante’s Comedy convinced him how he could edit it to make it better—after contemptuously dismissing his own editor. As it happens, Lefty’s boss Joe Black needs a Dante expert, to authenticate the rare handwritten manuscript. Technically, it is in the possession of the aging Don Lecco. That is why his chief enforcer, Louie Brunellesches will accompany Tosches to Italy.

Italy often brings out the déjà vu in Tosches. It should, since Oscar Isaac portrays both him and Dante Alighieri. In fact, it might not be simply a case of dramatic dual casting. Tosches might just have been Dante, like in Dead Again. Plus, Brunellesches would have been Pope Boniface VIII and Lefty was Italian nobleman Guido da Polenta. Apparently, Black wasn’t anybody famous—or John Malkovich wasn’t available for the scenes in Italy. However, Tosches’ new lover Giulietta might have been Dante’s neglected wife Gemma Donati. This time around, Tosches hopes to do better by her, because he truly loves her passionately.

Perhaps Tosches’ novel would better suit a full series adaptation, because even at two and a half hours, it is riddled with detours and sub-plots that simply dead-end and wither away. Ironically, the black-and-white contemporary Tosches timeline delivers all the really potent scenes, definitely starting with Pacino’s appearance as Uncle Carmine. Also, Gerard Butler will absolutely shock many viewers during his first scene as the thuggish, mean-spirited Brunellesches. Yet, it could honestly be the greatest performance of his career.

Unfortunately, nobody will say that about Martin Scorsese’s wild-eyed depiction of Isaiah, Dante’s possibly heretical spiritual advisor. Frankly, nobody will say that about Isaac’s Alighieri either. Despite the Italian catering Malkovich was probably wise to skip the late Medieval flashbacks. Probably Gal Gadot fares the best in both timelines, as the warmly seductive Giulietta and the acutely sad Donati.

Of course, Malkovich chews the scenery with relish as Black. Jason Momoa also does his thing playing Rosario, a rival gangster. However, the lack of consistency undermines the work of the entire ensemble. Individual scenes are brilliant, but they are separated by long stretches of slack. In all honesty, the entire Medieval section should have been reconsidered, because the two strands never satisfyingly tie together for a big picture payoff. Sometime interesting, but maddeningly not sufficiently cohesive to recommend, In the Hand of Dante starts streaming today (6/24) on Netflix.