Mussolini: Son of the Century Review

By Rory Conboy, Third Year History

The Roman salute is back in vogue. Elon Musk appears to be a fan, Steve Bannon most certainly is, and across Italy it’s becoming more and more common. At Fascist remembrance ceremonies the cry of ‘Presente!’ ricochets through streets once again – and Georgia Meloni is suspiciously quiet about it. This is why it is so important to remember Italy’s Fascist past, today. Last year, ‘Darkest Hour’ director Joe Wright took on that task.

Mussolini: Son of the Century is an eight-part adaption of the first of Antonio Scurati’s semi-fictional M series of novels, M: Son of the Century. The show depicts Mussolini’s rise to power from 1919 to 1925 and, despite a century passing, the story seems brutally relevant today. Whilst the show is by no means an anti-fascist playbook, it’s an entertaining and unique reminder about the fragility of democracy – and well worth a watch.

The cover of Antonio Scurati’s original novel.

 As a historical drama, questions of course will centre on the ‘accuracy’ of the show. It remains as historically accurate as it probably needed to be, although the elevation of Mussolini’s lover, Margherita Sarfatti, to the Lady Macbeth type is a tiring trope. A particular strength is how it illustrates many of the ideologies and sentiments that blended together to make, and constantly remake, Fascism. And, importantly, it refuses to shy away from the excessive violence of the movement – a decision commended by Bristol’s very own John Foot. Throughout the series, these ideological shifts and spikes of violence are finely balanced by Mussolini, performer-in-chief, carefully spinning plates of anger and ambition. It is as riveting as it is horrifying.

And the viewer is implicated in this horror – making it an uneasy experience. From the very beginning, you are invited to stand beside Mussolini and experience the events through him – it is in every way the Mussolini show. Il Duce is expertly played by Luca Marinelli, who commands you, in the very first episode, to ‘follow me, you’ll love me too. You’ll become a Fascist too’. And like a violently xenophobic House of Cards, he continues to speak directly to the camera throughout the show. It allows us to see just how flimsy and adaptable his ideological standpoints were, and how quickly he’d shift his position in order to gain something. This device also serves as the centre of the show's dark humour which does work in places but often jars – one ‘Make Italy Great Again’ line almost ruined the whole thing. Indeed, the lasting impact that the humour had on me was wishing that Armando Iannucci would give the period a pop. On the whole, however, it’s a smart choice that humanises Mussolini, revealing his vanity, and brings us closer to the rancorous heart of Fascism.

Luca Marinelli as Benito Mussolini.

 But the real unease stems from the – and allow me to use this word just once – vibe of the show: it is brimming with Futurism. You’re not just told about the world through the Fascist perspective, you see the world through the Fascist perspective. Given how central aesthetics were to Mussolini’s rule (see Falasca-Zamponi, 1997) this is a bold choice. And it pays off.

Wright embraced futurism as an ‘exciting way to tell our story’, and it indeed delivers on excitement – particularly when it comes to the ‘Blackshirts’, Fascism’s private army. Scenes of carnivorous violence are strung together by paroxysms of action shots, as well as flashes of bright lights and even clips of raw meat being crushed. They are, as one of my flatmates observed, like a fever dream. This is compounded by the pulsing, unashamedly anachronistic soundtrack composed by Tom Rowlands (half of The Chemical Brothers). It’s strikingly similar to modern ‘Fashwave’, and violently swells with the tempo of the show – bringing scenes to a climax with a boom or a screech. There’s even some space for Futurist poetry in Wright’s adaptation, which, despite its mockable verse (‘zang-tumb-tumb-zang-zang-tuuumb’) it fits perfectly with the score and cinematography. Even during more calm and mundane scenes in apartments and cars, Wright can’t help but employ some strange lighting or symmetry. And, most importantly, it works. The style is as enigmatic and distinct as Fascism itself – self-congratulatory in its hedonism and ugliness.

That being said, not every storyline gets the same stylistic treatment, and, by comparison, seem more plodding. Most egregious is the treatment of Giacomo Matteotti – the leading socialist politician murdered in 1924 by the Fascists. Matteotti’s portrayal is unfortunately lacking in depth - he gives speeches in Parliament and then walks about a lot. Whilst this offers a sober comparison to the madness of the Fascists, it doesn’t offer up enough about the man. This lack of character is something of a cardinal sin considering Matteotti’s legacy in Italy. For many, he is an Italian martyr, a symbol of resistance to Fascism, and a reminder of the violence of Mussolini’s rule. But you don’t get this from the series. Anyone tuning in to learn about the Italian left during the era will likely be disappointed – but, as I said, this is the Mussolini show.

The Sky Atlantic poster for the release of Mussolini: Son of the Century in Italy.

 From a British perspective, perhaps we shouldn’t expect or even need this show to be a masterpiece of anti-fascist media – even if that was Wright’s professed angle. Perhaps what we needed was a show that accessibly and entertainingly portrayed Fascism’s rise with warts and all. Particularly in this country, where public opinion on Mussolini rests somewhere between a comment about train punctuality and a vague look of struggling recollection.

In Italy, however, it’s a very different story. Much of Italy – left and right wing – hasn’t come to terms with the Fascist period or the Years of Lead after WWII. They haven’t, as the Germans thankfully labelled it, undergone ‘Vergangenheitsbewältigung’, and Mussolini: Son of the Century doesn’t do this either. For Italy, with its hard-right government turning a blind eye to neofascism (and implicitly encouraging it), this show is merely one quiet, theatrical voice in its cacophonous relationship to Fascism.

Edited by Ben Bryant