When telling an individual’s life story, there are basically two ways to go about it: a documentary or a narrative biography (or docudrama). The former format is generally an objective (and, hence, credible) way of telling the story, while the latter is essentially a form of fact-based entertainment (an informative, if not always accurate, account). However, in this latest offering from writer-director Giuseppe Tornatore, the filmmaker has taken a different path by fusing these two approaches, and, even though it may be an arguably inventive storytelling technique, it doesn’t always work. The subject in this case is clothing designer Brunello Cucinelli, who rose from modest beginnings in rural Italy to become a global force in cutting-edge fashion, style and comfort while becoming a leading advocate of humanistic capitalism and sustainability, noble concepts rooted in philosophical principles associated with beauty, creativity and humanity. The film’s opening half focuses on his upbringing, featuring re-creations of that time in his life, accompanied by asides from the protagonist, who serves as narrator and on-set tour guide in leading viewers through these sequences. In this portion of the film, audiences are introduced to the influential events and ideas that shaped his outlook in fostering his fervor for how to treat others and how to implement a form of capitalism that’s based as much on people (employees, clients and retail customers) as it is on profits. This narrative approach is in place up to the point where he launches his clothing company, a manufacturer of cashmere pullovers in vibrant colors, a radical departure from the traditional neutral hues associated with these garments. From there forward, the picture’s second half adopts a more conventional documentary approach, showing how Brunello built his organization and implemented the principles he learned in his youth into the company’s current operation, one that’s run more like a family than a heartless corporation. Without a doubt, the film’s back half is a vast improvement over the tiringly tedious material that preceded it with all of its superfluous, easily excised content. This second act is more to the point and more trained on what this release should have focused on all along (even if this offering is decidedly heavy-handed in its self-congratulatory accounting of the company’s civic and altruistic accomplishments). In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that this second half is what ultimately saves the film (my rating wouldn’t have been nearly as generous if it were not for this). But there are other elements that could use some work, too: interview segments with the protagonist and his family, friends and colleagues could have been sharper and more insightful; discussions of the company’s products could have been handled a little less gushingly to avoid appearing like a high-gloss infomercial; and Brunello’s role as a producer on this production might at times lead one to believe that this is more of a vanity project than a bona fide documentary venture. As a consequence, these considerations make my recommendation here quite conditional. To its credit, the film incorporates ample gorgeous cinematography, its production design in the re-creations is top-notch (even if the segments in which it’s employed could have been more compelling), and the discussion on humanistic capitalism is indeed informative, inspiring and enlightening. In light of that, then, I’d recommend bearing in mind both the foregoing positive and negative observations when deciding whether to give this one a look. “Brunello: The Gracious Visionary” may be more worth a streaming watch than making a special trip to the theater.