When Florence locks you up inside its Magic Womb
It must be the first time that a television series has grabbed me in the oddest way. I generally get hooked by either deep, dark, eerie mystery thrillers, cold war chillers, or psychological tangles. And then of course the actors too play a role in my choices. Billy Bob Thornton is one hot favourite with his very creepy turns in Fargo, and his very best Sling Blade which he directed, acted, wrote etc. etc. Then Harrison Ford took us all by surprise in What Lies Beneath!
So I was lured to check out Netflix’s The Medici: Masters of Florence just by seeing Dustin Hoffman’s name on the cast list. Ever since Tootsie, surely one of the funniest films ever made, I have never been able to miss a Dustin Hoffman outing.
So I visited The Medici and of course Hoffman is as good as ever, but it was Florence the city that sucked me inside its unimaginably enthralling womb. This living, breathing, breathtaking treasure of artistic architecture, makes this television drama sparkle as if Florence is telling the story, grabbing you like it was a very demented delirious writer crazy with the magic of his pen, who won’t let you go!
It was also a case of synchronicity. I had just bought a slim book on Florence, every page illustrated with the astounding ecstatic glory of this City, for a friend. And now here it was right in front of me, so achingly exquisite you forget the story as you soak up its splendor.
The story is addictive too – how can it not be, dealing as it does with that 15th century family famous for its unnerving historical sagas: boiling and simmering in jealousy, intrigue, greed, betrayal, hatred, political and personal agendas, never far from sudden horrifying deaths due to poison, knifing, burning or battering!
But Florence just walks shamelessly recklessly proudly all over this television drama and runs away with your five star rating to it alone! Like most of us run away from Donald Trump’s exhausting idiocy or gruesome villainy but wait hungrily to watch yet again as Alex Baldwin recreates, refurbishes, repairs and redesigns a delicious, delightful, addictive Trump we love to hate! We can’t have enough of this Trump!
Florence made me swoon again and yet again and will not let go. Then there is the awesome medieval musical score that also keeps you spell bound.
As my garden had easily rescued me without any effort from such humdrum, unexciting dramas like O & A, (too far fetched) Pretty Little Liars, Marco Polo, even the British Paranoia, I thought Medici too would let me get away. But Florence thought otherwise. It strangled me with its stupendous beauty.