In the Hand of Dante Netflix Review: Why The Divine Comedy Deserves a True Epic Movie

Last night I watched In the Hand of Dante on Netflix — or at least, I tried to watch it properly between exhaustion, life, and the usual chaos of the day.

Even though I watched it in a fragmented way, one feeling became clear very quickly: this is not exactly the Dante movie I was secretly hoping for.

The film seems to follow the path of a mystery story, almost in the style of The Da Vinci Code. Dante becomes part of a puzzle, a symbol, a secret, a cultural treasure to be chased and decoded.

And honestly, I understand why.

For an international audience, this kind of story is probably more accessible. A thriller, a mystery, a hidden manuscript, a dangerous search — these are elements that immediately pull people in. Dante becomes intriguing even for viewers who may not know much about Italian literature.

But as an Italian viewer, I couldn’t help feeling something else.

I kept wishing for a movie not just about Dante, but truly inside Dante.

I wanted to see The Divine Comedy.

Not only references. Not only a mystery. Not only the figure of Dante as a historical or literary icon.

I wanted the journey.

Inferno. Purgatorio. Paradiso.

Because if there is one Italian masterpiece that deserves a grand cinematic adaptation, it is this one.

Dante Is Already Cinematic

The truth is that Dante does not need to be turned into a puzzle to be powerful.

Dante is already cinematic.

The Divine Comedy has everything great cinema claims to love: monsters, angels, demons, lost souls, redemption, terror, love, politics, poetry, betrayal, punishment, hope, and one of the most extraordinary journeys ever written.

The Inferno alone could become one of the most visually overwhelming worlds ever created on screen.

But it should not be just fire and monsters.

Inferno should feel dark, physical, terrifying, and almost impossible to escape. It should carry moral weight, psychological horror, punishment, beauty, and dread. It should feel like a world built with precision, not chaos.

Then there is Purgatorio.

Purgatorio should feel completely different: emotional, human, painful, but full of hope. A mountain of transformation. A place where souls suffer, but not without meaning. It should feel like effort, memory, purification, and the slow possibility of becoming lighter.

And then, of course, Paradiso.

Paradiso would be the greatest challenge.

It cannot simply be white clouds and angels.

If done badly, Paradiso could look like a 1990s angel screensaver.

But if done well? It could be unforgettable.

Imagine a 3D, immersive vision of Paradise: deep meditative frequencies, luminous beings moving around Dante, layers of white, gold, pearl, aura, and cosmic light. Not something you simply watch, but something you almost feel.

Paradiso should feel like an experience more than a place: light, vibration, music, spiritual intensity, and the sensation of entering something beyond human understanding.

That is the Dante movie I am still waiting for.

And if I had to imagine the right filmmaker for this task, I would think of Peter Jackson.

He has already shown the world that epic literature can become cinema without losing its soul. He understands journeys, darkness, impossible landscapes, strange creatures, friendship, fear, sacrifice, and wonder.

In his hands, Dante could truly find his Virgil and navigate Hell without fear.

So, Sir Peter Jackson, if by some miracle you are reading this: please do it.

The world is ready.

My Final Thoughts on In the Hand of Dante

I understand why filmmakers may choose a more accessible mystery format. It is easier to sell, easier to follow, and perhaps less risky for a global audience.

And In the Hand of Dante may be interesting for viewers who enjoy literary mysteries, Italian history, secret manuscripts, and stories inspired by great cultural figures.

But for me, it also made something very clear: the world still deserves something bigger.

A true cinematic journey through The Divine Comedy.

A film — or even better, a trilogy — that dares to take us through Hell, up the mountain of Purgatory, and into the impossible light of Paradise.

Because Dante is not only a historical figure.

He is terrifying. He is visionary. He is human. He is political. He is spiritual. He is dramatic.

He is everything cinema claims to love.

So yes, In the Hand of Dante may open the door for some viewers.

But I am still waiting for the real journey.

I am still waiting for Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso.

And honestly?

The world is ready for Dante.