Devotion, A Story Of Love And Desire 〈Top 10 PREMIUM〉

Devotion is not a bad show, but it is a frustrating one. It has all the ingredients for a smart, sensual drama about class, marriage, and self-discovery. Instead, it settles for being a glossy, slow-burn fantasy for anyone who believes the solution to a stale relationship is a younger, less complicated person.

Carlo (Michele Riondino), a successful but emotionally stunted yacht builder, is trapped in a sexless, transactional marriage with the elegant but icy Sofia. Enter Margherita (a compelling Aurora Giovinazzo), a young, free-spirited photographer who sees Carlo not as a wealthy patron, but as a broken man. What follows is a collision of worlds: obligation versus impulse, security versus chaos. devotion, a story of love and desire

If you enjoy Italian scenery as a character and don’t mind minimal plot, you’ll find moments to savor. But if you’re looking for genuine insight into love or desire, this story remains curiously, fatally, distant. Devotion is not a bad show, but it is a frustrating one

At first glance, Devotion promises a lush, sun-drenched escape into taboo romance. The Italian drama, set against the aristocratic glamour of Liguria, wants to be a sophisticated exploration of adult desire. Instead, it often plays like a handsomely shot soap opera that mistakes brooding silences for depth and infidelity for liberation. If you enjoy Italian scenery as a character

★★½ (2.5/5) Watch if you liked: Call Me By Your Name ’s aesthetic, but with less nuance; The Affair ’s premise, but with less grit.

The series is visually intoxicating. Every frame drips with Mediterranean heat—crisp linen, antique villas, the gleam of the sea at sunset. The chemistry between Riondino and Giovinazzo is palpable in stolen glances and trembling hands. When the show allows itself quiet moments (a shared cigarette on a terrace, a hesitant touch in a dark room), it genuinely captures the ache of midlife longing.

The title promises “a story of love and desire,” but delivers surprisingly little of either in a meaningful way. The “desire” is almost exclusively Carlo’s male-gaze-centric awakening. Margherita, for all her supposed independence, is written as a manic pixie dream girl in linen pants—her sole purpose is to teach a rich man how to feel again. The “love” feels less like a profound connection and more like two people using each other to escape their own boredom.