Director Paolo Sorrentino’s best films are artful explorations of inward and outward beauty, of the mind, the soul, and the flesh. In his best works (“The Great Beauty” and “Youth”), the filmmaker artfully contrasts the existence of the old world of his native Italy with his characters’ hunger for their place amongst the beauty that surrounds them. Along with frequent cinematographer Daria D’Antonio, Sorrentino creates exquisitely designed, Fellini-tinged, cinematic cocktails guided by intelligence, eroticism, and the quest for life. The director’s latest, “Parthenope,” isn’t as strong as his previous work but finds its way to a satisfying profundity that will leave a lasting emotional impression.

At its heart, “Parthenope” is a love letter to the filmmaker’s birthplace of Naples, Italy, which D’Antonio’s camera captures in some of the most stunning visuals of recent memory. The jaw-dropping enchantment of the land and surrounding Mediterranean Sea is masterfully rendered in breathtakingly artistic camera designs. The irony is how the immaculate cinematography is also (at times) the film’s biggest hindrance.

Co-produced by Saint Laurent Productions (the company’s creative director, Anthony Vaccarello, worked on the film’s costumes), there are moments where the picture can be accused of looking like an extended fragrance ad. That feeling is prevalent in the film’s first thirty minutes. Sorrentino introduces his lead character through long slow-motion shots that move through a Naples where every man and woman have perfectly coiffed hair and are adorned in stylish clothes and the hippest sunglasses. What is meant to be a seductive style where Parthenope beguiles both the film and the audience becomes a glossed-out contact sheet of images that hurt the film. Thinking that the lazy and oft-used phrase “style over substance” could be applied to a filmmaker as strong as Paolo Sorrentino was alarming. His intended message is clear, but the picture begins with a discourse that is too hollow. Thankfully, after a time, the screenplay (written by the director) reveals its true intentions and becomes an intoxicating and layered work with an intense emotional center.

Parthenope was born in the sea. As her mother gives birth in the Mediterranean waters, her grandfather exuberantly declares, “Let’s call her Parthenope!” paying homage to the mythological character who gave the land its original name. The dueling literary mythologies of the legendary siren parallel the ways Sorrentino’s lead character sees herself and how she is perceived (and received) by the world.

In Greek myth, Parthenope cast herself into the sea after failing to win the affections of Odysseus. Her drowned body washed ashore in Naples, on the island of Megaride. The people of the area named the city Parthenope to honor her memory.

In Roman myth, a centaur named Vesuvius was in love with Parthenope. Jupiter, the god of thunder and the skies, was angered, turning the centaur into a volcano (Mount Vesuvius) and Parthenope into the land of Naples.

As a character in myth and in this film, Parthenope is a nurturing presence that awakens desire and awe in those around her, but one who cannot find her proper place in the world that adores her. People stare at them as she walks by, hypnotized by her beauty. Whether Parthenope is looking out from a sunlit balcony or floating by the city on a kayak, life stops to admire her beauty. The way she draws the affection of so many is effortless, yet one can become drunk on such an intoxicating tonic. Adoration is often deceiving, and the consequences of losing your way can manifest in devastating hits to one’s self-worth.

Parthenope uses the adoration of the world to coast through a young life of parties, swimming, and sunbathing. Her life is colored by the famous line written by Tennesse Williams for Blanche DuBois in “A Streetcar Named Desire,” “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” She soaks in the day and nightlife while playing with the affections of the man who has loved her since their youth, Sandrino (Dario Aita) and her troubled brother Raimondo (Daniele Rienzo), constantly stoking the fires of jealousy between the two.

There is more to Parthenope than the world sees. Beyond her seductive beauty is a woman who feeds her mind, eventually discovering that she was made for something greater. Her desire to achieve a degree in anthropology led her to Professor Marotta (Silvio Orlando, who gave the film’s performance). The two build mutual respect for one another, which leads to a lasting friendship that will have a lasting positive impact on their lives. The interactions between the two characters are expertly written and performed and give touching emotional weight to the film’s deeper thematic pursuits.

After letting herself become seduced by the possibility of becoming an actress, Parthenope is pulled into the orbit of a strangely eccentric acting teacher (Isabella Ferrari) and an aging starlet named Greta Cool (Luisa Rainieri), who embodies the crushing effects of giving oneself over to fame and idolization. Not wanting to fall into these addictive traps, Parthenope returns to academic life, where her well-received thesis allows her an invitation to witness the Miracle of San Gennaro. During this ceremony, the church invokes the blood of Christ.

Peppe Lanzetta is powerful as the smoking, cynical, and ultimately seductive priest, Vescovo. His hulking frame, dyed jet-black hair, and worn face present a man whose faith has been shaken by the world, the reality of the Catholic Church and the deceptions that keep their congregations devoted. Vescovo embodies the duality of man and is a complete representation of what Sorrentino wants to say. The priest has tasted life and continues to indulge when the opportunity presents itself. For him, Parthenope is the poisoned fruit with a pure center. In the film’s strongest moment, the seducer becomes seduced as Parthenope gives way to the power of Vescovo’s directness. There is no lie in this man, and he sees her more clearly than anyone ever has. In their coupling, Heaven and Earth meet, while the purity of two fractured lives combine in a startling moment of truth where the metaphorical gives way to something real.

For the period from eighteen to her late twenties, Parthenope is played by Celeste Dalla Porta, a natural beauty and a newcomer to films after only a few bit parts. The actress does quite well with the character’s almost otherworldly presence in the film’s first half and the emotional shift as Parthenope begins to question her worth and legacy. Dalla Porta’s performance is sincerity, playful, sexy, heartfelt, and moving. When Parthenope’s whimsical lifestyle moves to more intellectual pursuits, Sorrentino’s screenplay combines with the impressive work of his lead actress to carry the episodic film to a textured meditation of self-delusion and the meaning of what is truly beautiful.

The great Stefania Sandrelli (Bertolucci’s “The Conformist,” Paolo Cavera’s “Black Belly of the Tarantula”) plays Parthenope in her later years, as we find her retiring after years as a professor. While the character remains at somewhat of a distance from the viewer, it is clear that she has lived a good life and perhaps discovered her true self in a world that once saw her only for her beauty. Sandrelli’s short time on screen is effective in the way she shows the reflective side of Parthenope as the character leaves the school for the last time and walks out into the streets of Naples, lovingly remembering a time when life was to be lived. Where American films would use this moment as a revelatory cause to celebrate, Sorrentino sees this as a woman beginning another journey. Throughout the film, different characters are always asking, “What are you thinking?” She rarely answers, as it is not for them to know. In this final moment, as Sandrelli smiles at the memories that flood her heart, we still don’t know what she is thinking. While the credits roll, it is understood that there is more to come for such a seeker of life and knowledge. For Parthenope, there is always more.

Of the cast, it is only Gary Oldman who draws the short straw. Oldman is saddled with the underwritten role of John Cheever, a gay writer who is drawn to Parthenope. The screenplay gives him one scene of deep reflection that is meant to be an emotional standout, yet the script hasn’t established Cheever well enough. The audience has no attachment to him and the moment fails to impress. Oldman is fine but is given next to nothing to work with.

Paolo Sorrentino’s “Parthenope” isn’t perfect, but the film’s imperfections eventually give way to the strengths of a well-told story. The picture is an artful balance of seductive daydreams and a poignant emotional core where myth and humanity find harmonious symmetry.

As Parthenope’s brother Raimondo tells her, “It is impossible to be happy in the most beautiful place in the world.” Though certainly in the eye of the beholder, beauty can be both a wonderful gift and a damning curse. For Parthenope, both the character’s life journey and the film that bears her name are the two walking hand in hand.