#jonathanbowden — Public Fediverse posts

MUSSOLINI: SON OF THE CENTURY (2025)

This TV Mini Series from Italy, based on Antonio Scurati’s 2018 book of the same name, has been strangely overlooked by online reviewers for reasons I can’t quite determine. The instant appeal of this work for me was the dynamism in the cinematography and the deployment of an eclectic range of imagery and styles to express both the volatile period and the shifting mood swings of Mussolini (played by Luca Marinelli). In this way it partly echoes the style of Scurati’s book which used a mix of fictional and documentary methods to depict fascism from the inside. This style, which the author termed ‘fictual’, shifts between archive documents, omniscient narration, and the first person perspective of Mussolini and others. In this TV adaptation however, while there is only the perspective of Mussolini, there is an analogous shifting between traditional acoustic and modern electric and digital instrumentation in the soundtrack, created by Tom Rowlands, one half of the The Chemical Brothers duo. This combination drives home the fact that fascism consciously played on a romanticised past while also evoking a kind of hypnotic fascination with the future. It should feel anachronistic to hear a techno soundtrack over montages of archival footage but it’s a common edit technique used by amateurs on X and YouTube with great success.

https://youtu.be/laEem5wiOSY?si=_R4VmiRg-uhTCTrj

It’s also very refreshing to watch a TV series and not to be browbeaten by a script in which every second character explicitly warns of the threat to democracy posed by the extreme right as if the viewer is a drooling halfwit. Antonio Scurati has been described in the publicity for the series as

democratic, libertarian and progressive, and sees his novel as his greatest contribution to the re-foundation of anti-fascism, an anti-fascism that can stand up to new times.

As if not to be outdone in this display of liberal credentials, the director Joe Wright has even talked about Mussolini’s toxic masculinity:

What I find really fascinating about Mussolini is that he represents, in my mind, the worst of masculinity… Mussolini… dug into the worst in himself and used it to gain power.

All this is to be expected in the current climate and doesn’t detract from the work which unapologetically immerses the viewer in the fascist worldview and deploys the same method common to left-wing/liberal biopics of people like Che Guevara (The Motorcycle Diaries 2004) or the American communist John Reed (Reds 1981).

What is interesting here is the application of this immersive method to a party on the right of the political spectrum. The usual demonization of the leaders and followers of right wing movements which makes every depiction a static, po-faced denunciation of a strawman caricature is thankfully absent from this work, even though it depicts brutal acts of violence committed by the fascists. The same film industry which waxes lyrical about Che Guevara and his peasant followers and romanticises the lower classes when they are mobilised for leftist causes, will usually turn around and condemn them as losers and reprehensible social misfits when they are attracted to right-wing movements. Perhaps even the liberals have grown tired of this hypocrisy or perhaps we have entered a more cynical age and perhaps this cynicism can be seen in the depiction of politics as theatre within this series. For example: the mocking asides from Mussolini as if this was a Shakespeare play and he is Richard the Third: the Brechtian breaking of the fourth wall to explain the background context: or his remarks announcing the role he has to play as necessity dictates:

Enter the magician…Enter the trainer…Enter the quick-change artist.

Add to this the comedy of many scenes and the constant mockery and contempt he displays toward Parliament and ‘this putrid liberal democracy‘ and it’s possible to see a reflection of the current mood evident among the electorate of many European countries and the skittishness of the ruling classes at the smouldering discontent and contempt just awaiting a genuine alternative.

There is a moment when Mussolini remarks to the camera, in English, Make Italy great again! which is an explicit, comical nod to this seismic shift in the current political landscape. With the hysterical accusations of fascism directed at Donald Trump and ICE being compared to a fascist militia, there is the implicit recognition of the failure of liberal democracy to deliver on its promises and the growing desire for radical change or rather a radical reversal/return. As an aside it was noticeable in Donald Trump’s initial campaign rallies of 2016 that he consciously mimicked Mussolini’s jutting chin and oratorical style but the press preferred to go with the comparisons to Hitler as Italian fascism has always been rather ill-defined and inadequate for stirring up Pavlovian reactions.

The marginal role Mussolini and Franco played in the media’s morality tale of World War Two actually allows a certain freedom to explore the topic without those mind-numbing, thought-killing accusations of reviving a deadly ideology, which still hampers any attempt to put this period into perspective in regards to Germany and the Weimar regime. Scurati himself has talked about how anti-fascist prejudice blocks the ability to analyse fascism, producing a form of ideological blindness. For that reason there is a lot of space for an in-depth exploration of the psychological and emotional make-up of Mussolini which is clearly influenced in this version by the fictional character of Tony Soprano and the real-world figure of Silvio Berlusconi. There’s also a fascinating mixture of exhilaration and nihilism in the character of Mussolini: one minute enraptured with utopian visions of a united Italy, the next wracked with self-doubt and disgust at humanity. The abrupt shifts, from revelling in excess and violence with his ‘fighting bands’ (Fasci Italiani Combattimento), to adopting an air of respectability when attempting to gain parliamentary power, are a reflection of his own internal contradictions. Taking his cue from Marinetti’s Futurism and D’Annunzio’s self-proclaimed Superman image he struggles to find a coherent identity. His initial socialist ideals transformed into what has been termed ‘revolutionary nationalism’ by A James Gregor:

Mussolini’s revolutionary nationalism, while it distinguished itself from the traditional patriotism and nationalism of the bourgeoisie, displayed many of those features we today identify with the nationalism of underdeveloped peoples. It was an anticonservative nationalism that anticipated vast social changes; it was directed against both foreign and domestic oppressors; it conjured up an image of a renewed and regenerated nation that would perform a historical mission; it invoked a moral ideal of selfless sacrifice and commitment in the service of collective goals; and it recalled ancient glories and anticipated a shared and greater glory

The visual and audio styles in the series reflect this confusing mix of political categories, a political syncretism which is fluid and shifting, combining elements from the left and right of the spectrum. This dynamic and unstable environment inhabited by the volatile character of Mussolini is part of the fascination of this series. Right from the start we are hurled into the wreckage of WW1 and the broken, disenchanted veterans feeling discarded by the political class. The same discontented masses that the socialists wished to utilise for their revolution are also the object of his overtures:

History is made with outcasts, people at the bottom of the barrel. Inflame their anger, arm them with bombs and guns. I will make the revolution with them!

There’s even an attractive quality in the inept Machiavellianism of Mussolini as depicted here. His bluntness and his mood swings really disqualify him from the smooth-talking, cool-headed role of a master manipulator, despite his self-presentation as such. It’s made clear that much of his success relies upon the shrewdness of those around him such as Cesare Rossi and his mistress Margherita Sarfatti and that he resents this dependency.

The brief inclusion of the character of Marinetti, the founder of Futurism, does situate fascism in the confluence of artistic currents such as Cubism, Vorticism, Surrealism and Expressionism. These are also the sources for the dominant aesthetic of the series which deploys spectacle in its examination of the political movement to a greater degree than usual. The scenes of violence borrow much from Peaky Blinders and have the same sensationalist excess but with an enhanced unreality, a kind of magic realism which makes for a less exploitative appeal to the baser instincts.

This extract from the Futurist Manifesto of 1909 is reflected in the dynamic aesthetics of the series:


We will sing of great crowds excited by work, by pleasure, and by riot; we will sing of the multicolored, polyphonic tides of revolution in the modern capitals; we will sing of the vibrant nightly fervour of arsenals and shipyards blazing with violent electric moons; greedy railway stations that devour smoke-plumed serpents; factories hung on clouds by the crooked lines of their smoke; bridges that stride the rivers like giant gymnasts, flashing in the sun with a glitter of knives; adventurous steamers that sniff the horizon; deep-chested locomotives whose wheels paw the tracks like the hooves of enormous steel horses bridled by tubing; and the sleek flight of planes whose propellers chatter in the wind like banners and seem to cheer like an enthusiastic crowd.

It’s no coincidence that the year Mussolini took office was the same year as the publication of The Wasteland by T.S.Eliot and Ulysses by James Joyce. These modernist landmarks both deal with the confrontation between the traditional worlds and the encroachment of radical modern developments. Eliot would wrestle with this issue even as late as Notes Toward the Definition of Culture (1948) and in his plays which attempted to revive blank verse. Joyce would solve the conflict by seeing in the modern world of Dublin a parallel of the ancient world depicted in Homer’s Odyssey. Also we have the figure of Ezra Pound, a leading modernist poet who produced radio broadcasts from Italy denouncing the allies from 1941 to 1945 and was later arrested for treason. Pound’s Cantos are very much concerned with this dialogue between the ancient and the modern. The same struggle between acknowledging the past and pushing into the future without a radical negation of values which underpin a society is evident in the trajectory of fascism and other ‘third position’ parties. Even Futurism is a response to this pressure of the modern world albeit in a different manner.

We are also shown Mussolini rejecting the bohemian, artistic milieu around Marinetti as ultimately unserious, in the same manner in which Julius Evola abandoned his early dalliance with Dadaism in favour of esoteric philosophy and traditionalism. Mussolini’s admiration for D’Annunzio is tinged with envy in regard to the latter’s charisma but also a kind of mockery toward his immersion in the realm of fantasy and heroic idealism exemplified by his invasion of Fiume: a clump of houses nobody would ever give a fuck about, if it hadn’t become a symbol. D’Annunzio himself would be worthy of a similar series, just as the whole era in Italy is largely unknown to the average viewer and rewards investigation. This article about Fiume is especially eye-opening:

Dionysiac Left-Nietzscheanism in Power: In Defence of the Fiume Commune — MEON

It’s interesting to see the influential political role played by figures like D’Annunzio, the warrior poet and heroic fighter. Such people no longer influence our political system which has been reduced to performative statements in parliament and stage-managed PR stunts. Any figure who might faintly correspond to leaders such as those thrown up by that chaotic period are immediately denounced as ‘strong-man authoritarians’ who threaten democracy. In reality they threaten the marionette show of party politics which masks corporate and technocratic dominance.

The insert of a puppet show, as in this example, is part of the eclectic visual style which also mirrors Mussolini’s mercurial temperament. The scene here is depicting his ‘nightmare’ of social peace, a socialist utopia, which he fears will render his movement redundant and irrelevant. This is the viewpoint of Scurati which recurs frequently within his book and it echoes the kind of blinkered, dismissive view often heard from establishment figures for whom any suggestion of an alternative form of government is cynically capitalising on minor problems which can be solved through the parliamentary process. To be fair to Scurati he does emphasise that the politicians, apart from Matteotti, are quite willing to forgo their principles if it means retaining their positions. In contrast to that corrupt, ossified system, is the vision of fascism which Mussolini himself evokes:

Fascism, a beautiful creature, made up of passion, ideals, courage and change, that will conquer millions and millions of hearts.

It’s hard to ignore the contrast between the passions generated by the polarized politics of this period and our own cynical and apathetic attitude towards the bland centrists offered up for election. At one point when asked to define fascism Mussolini calls it an ‘anti-party’ which is, in the context, simply an expression of disdain for the charade of left and right opposition. This is also closely bound up with the nihilist and anarchist roots of fascism and futurism, a desire to break out from the suffocating orthodoxy of political and artistic forms.

His mistress, Margherita Sarfatti, ran a salon and was influential in the promotion of the Novecento style of art which informs some of the cinematography in the series. The same dynamic and energetic impulses of this artistic movement are transmitted through the editing and camera angles chosen by the director. A sort of feverish surrealism frames the historical events which mirrors the manner in which Scurati’s book immerses the reader’s senses in the atmosphere of Milan or Rome.

Fortunato Depero, Nitrito in Velocità, 1932.

Unique Forms Of Continuity In Space, 1913 By Umberto Boccioni 

This image of Mussolini torching his socialist ideals is a perfect example of the visual elements deployed by the director. There seems to be a willingness to experiment with different narrative modes which challenge the viewers and break the work out of the formulaic strait-jacket which so many TV series now inhabit. There are some parallels with Hans Jürgen Syberberg’s 1977 work Hitler: A Film from Germany which also deployed a range of styles in the service of representing historical events and personages. It’s not just the use of puppets and Brechtian theatrical techniques that evokes a similarity but also the implicit attempt to come to terms with Italy’s fascist history without resorting to the post-war propaganda narratives. In Syberberg’s work there is an explicit reckoning with the past and a far more ambitious and complex artistic aim but it’s hard not to see echoes of it in this series.

Susan Sontag, the author of Fascinating Fascism, a study of German filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl, also wrote about Syberberg’s film with considerable insight.

Susan Sontag: Syberberg’s Hitler

It’s possible that the post-war liberal consensus is reacting to the tremors of a new era where their well-worn slogans no longer have the power to persuade and pacify the populace. The main thesis in Scurati’s book and repeated in the series is that the principles of liberal democracy were not upheld and that the left was too riven by factions and infighting to resist the rise of an authoritarian regime. This view ignores the pre-war context where the idea of nations and peoples had not yet been reduced to a sphere of economic zones/resources to be effectively managed but was instead seen as enmeshed with a spiritual destiny and an historical mission. A view which seems eccentric to our crude materialistic age but was strong enough to enlist the forces of millions of people in its service. It is the sense of our own impoverished political landscape that makes the period of fascism so compelling.

That a work such as this can still emerge in the midst of remakes and formulaic dramas is very encouraging. It has something akin to the 1986 TV series The Singing Detective by Dennis Potter, with the same verve and bold stylistic choices, proving what can be achieved with the medium. As to why it has not been given the attention it deserves, it’s possible that the depiction of Mussolini as a very human character with relatable fears and guilt alongside his arrogance and charm threatened the ready-made image of a vain, strutting buffoon who was eventually overthrown by his own people. Perhaps it’s necessary for a liberal democracy that he remain only a propaganda symbol of the threat of dictatorship and the cult of personality and not a vivid representation of human nature. Whatever the reason may be, the fact remains that the current system in Europe is very fragile and defensive, even reactionary and censorious, in contradiction to its ‘liberal’ and ‘democratic’ claims. The desire for political change is as strong as it was in Mussolini’s time and surely it is better to have a political system that recognises the inherent flaws in human nature than this intransigent egalitarianism that is at war with reality and a political ruling class that is at war with its own people.

It’s worth listening to this discussion which throws light on some of the work behind the cinematography.

Mussolini: Son of the Century Q&A with Seamus McGarvey ASC BSC ISC

Jonathan Bowden is always worth the time to read or listen to. Here he is on Syberberg.

Hans-Jürgen Syberberg