News Editor Adam Behan reviews Joe Wright’s new limited series, an adaptation of Antonio Scurati’s novel M - Son of the Century. Sparing no rods, fascist violence and the inner circle of Mussolini are captured magnificently.
“Today, fascism is born.”
As Benito Mussolini (Luca Marinelli) proclaims the birth of fascism to the anthem of the Arditi, who charged at the enemy wielding blades in their mouths on the battlefields of World War One, it is all too easy to become enamoured. The darkness of Marinelli’s eyes, almost as black as the uniforms of the Fasces of Combat, enlists the viewer among the ranks of Italy’s fascists as they stab up, down, left and right, their bayonets thrusting at every foe in a post-WW1 Italy, and tearing the fabric of Italian politics apart from 1919 to 1925. Nothing but total and absolute power is what they will settle for; socialists, monarchists, liberals, to Hell with them all.
The easiest appraisal one could give this mini-series is to Luca Marinelli’s masterful portrayal of Europe’s first fascist dictator and, apologies to George C. Scott, he is the quintessential Mussolini-on-screen. Marinelli is completely transformed in this role. With the uncanny resemblance to Il Duce - when he still had hair - the performance is akin to Gary Oldman’s brilliant portrayal of Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour.
Mussolini has been resigned to history as an utter failure and held in contempt as a swindler, a loser, a rapist, and one who would hunker down low in the shadow of his far more influential counterpart in the Third Reich.
Marinelli’s portrayal of Mussolini demands your undivided attention with close up shots and monologues which eat up much of the screen time. Direct material is taken from speeches given by Mussolini himself, and he has a foul word for everyone. The rhetoric of fascism, which is inflammatory and emotional, is magnetising. The humour lands quite well, if you can stomach the rest of the violence.
Mussolini has been resigned to history as an utter failure and held in contempt as a swindler, a loser, a rapist, and one who would hunker down low in the shadow of his far more influential counterpart in the Third Reich. He is indeed all of these things, but he is also a master wordsmith. By the end of the series, we see how normal people, simply desiring a fix for their country, put their trust in the would-be-tyrant because they believed in his ability to deliver. Men in black, armed with batons and rifles, a contributing factor to the belief.
Series director Joe Wright, using material from the original novel by Antonio Scurati, uses eight episodes to cover a sweeping history of six years, as Mussolini rises to the height of mortal power in Italy, from the founder of Il Popolo d’Italia to Prime Minister. The supporting cast reach the heights set by Marinelli, with Barbara Chichiarelli as Margherita Sarfati and Francesco Russo as Cesare Rossi, both stroking the ego of Mussolini.
The series is further elevated by the visual aesthetics of the time. Italian futurism is peppered throughout, presenting themes of an Italy undergoing rapid change. Old reels show the infamous March on Rome (Mussolini in absentia), flashing news headlines and even footage of Mussolini’s corpse strung up in the Piazzale Loreto in Milan, home turf of Il Duce, and getting kicked by furious Italians after the disaster of the Second World War. Tom Rowlands of The Chemical Brothers’ scored the series, giving many scenes a flavourful intensity.
Although the series isn’t as epic in scope as last year’s Shogun, the political intrigue runs just as deep. The Chamber of Deputies is a theatre of spectacle. We get a good picture of the deadlock between the Socialists on the Left and the Fascists on the Right, who are reeling from a costly war which has produced monsters on both sides. Caught in the middle are the moderate liberals and conservatives, who are compared to slugs in terms of their spinelessness. The series ends on a note which causes the old adage (mis)attributed to Edmund Burke to spring to mind: Evil triumphs when good men do nothing. We know at the end of the series that fascists love the crucible of violence and vitriol they have created in 1920s Italy and, with detractors quickly silenced, they give their unquestionable loyalty to their Duce, Mussolini. Alea iacta est.