"In its political praxis [fascism] uses liberal ways, democratic means, and even socialist practices." ~ Alfredo Rocco, The Political Doctrine of Fascism
Having recently reviewed Babylon Berlin and The Leopard, I decided to give it another go and binge-watch all eight episodes of director Joe Wright's adaptation of Antonio Scurati's 2018 novel, M. Il figlio del secolo (Mussolini: Son of the Century). While I can't comment on its faithfulness to the source material since I haven't read the book, the series struck me as excessively melodramatic, overly simplistic, and overtly propagandistic. Set during the rise of fascist dictator Benito Mussolini in 1920s Italy, what could have been a compelling historical drama instead turned into an absurd dark comedy. While I expected a hatchet job on one of the 20th century's most notorious figures, I did not anticipate anything this farcical. Initially torn between watching M or The Lions of Sicily (2023), which recounts the fascinating story of the Florio family in the 1800s, I now find myself regretting my decision.
Saturated with graphic violence and gore, the action sequences evoke the comic-book-inspired visuals seen in the films Sin City (2005) and 300 (2006). The episodes are so visually unsettling that each one begins with a cautionary warning stating, “Some scenes contain strobing or persistent flashing light imagery that may affect viewers with photosensitivity.” Adding to the discordant imagery, the score features jarring electronic music composed by Tom Rowlands, known for his work with The Chemical Brothers. This noise would surely be music to the ears of Futurist maestros Luigi Russolo and Filippo Tommaso Marinetti. One particularly questionable artistic choice was the inclusion of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love during a harrowing montage of squadristi violence.
As always, socialists are depicted as oppressed victims, bullied and beaten by fascist thugs, while their own transgressions are conveniently overlooked. Although I understand why Leftists project their own criminal and violent proclivities, adopting a victim mentality, I find it puzzling that they also exhibit a Freudian psychosexual fascination with their fascist counterparts. This fixation is evident in the entertainment industry’s perverse obsession with the aesthetics, violence, and brutality often associated with fascism, as seen in the Nazisploitation films Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS (1975) starring Dyanne Thorne, and Pier Paolo Pasolini’s cult classic Salò (1975), which draws inspiration from the Marquis de Sade's depraved novel The 120 Days of Sodom (1785).
Clearly taking "creative license" with the facts, the show often injects ahistorical childish humor aimed at an ill-informed and unsophisticated modern audience. For instance, one fascist rally leading up to the March on Rome in 1922 resembled an old New York City hardcore show with Mussolini stage-diving and crowd-surfing over a throng of slam dancing Blackshirts shouting Eja Eja Alalà!, the famous war cry of the heroic warrior-poet Gabriele D’Annunzio.
Nothing was exempt from mockery. Even the origin of the so-called Roman salute was ridiculed. M would have us believe that il Duce introduced the iconic stiff-arm salute to spare himself further humiliation after a socialist senator jerked his hand away during what was intended to be a "friendly" handshake following the treaty signing between their parties.
Another notably cringeworthy moment arises when Mussolini breaks the fourth wall to declare, “Make Italy great again.” In a blatant attempt to interject modern politics, they falsely liken President Trump to the Italian dictator. Trump may be a lot of things, but he’s no fascist. This raises the rhetorical question: Does this tactic of branding anyone you don’t like a fascist even work anymore?
I have little good to say about M. Il figlio del secolo. Although Luca Marinelli (Mussolini), Barbara Chichiarelli (Margherita Grassini), and the rest of the cast all looked the part, they portrayed almost everyone as violent, mentally ill deviants. Dark and grainy, it was difficult to fully appreciate the stunning sets and incomparable landscapes of Il Belle Paese. While the costumes and uniforms were fun to see—I almost wish the fez would make a comeback—I was particularly taken with the scene in the empty Teatro di San Carlo in Naples, where the tragic geisha Cio-Cio-San nervously performed Un bel dì, vedremo, the famous aria from Giacomo Puccini’s opera Madama Butterfly for Mussolini. The palatial grandeur of the theatre and the bedizened soprano in oshiroi and kimono were magnificent. Otherwise, there is little else worth getting excited about.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, April 27, Feast of Our Lady of Montserrat
Saturated with graphic violence and gore, the action sequences evoke the comic-book-inspired visuals seen in the films Sin City (2005) and 300 (2006). The episodes are so visually unsettling that each one begins with a cautionary warning stating, “Some scenes contain strobing or persistent flashing light imagery that may affect viewers with photosensitivity.” Adding to the discordant imagery, the score features jarring electronic music composed by Tom Rowlands, known for his work with The Chemical Brothers. This noise would surely be music to the ears of Futurist maestros Luigi Russolo and Filippo Tommaso Marinetti. One particularly questionable artistic choice was the inclusion of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love during a harrowing montage of squadristi violence.
As always, socialists are depicted as oppressed victims, bullied and beaten by fascist thugs, while their own transgressions are conveniently overlooked. Although I understand why Leftists project their own criminal and violent proclivities, adopting a victim mentality, I find it puzzling that they also exhibit a Freudian psychosexual fascination with their fascist counterparts. This fixation is evident in the entertainment industry’s perverse obsession with the aesthetics, violence, and brutality often associated with fascism, as seen in the Nazisploitation films Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS (1975) starring Dyanne Thorne, and Pier Paolo Pasolini’s cult classic Salò (1975), which draws inspiration from the Marquis de Sade's depraved novel The 120 Days of Sodom (1785).
Nothing was exempt from mockery. Even the origin of the so-called Roman salute was ridiculed. M would have us believe that il Duce introduced the iconic stiff-arm salute to spare himself further humiliation after a socialist senator jerked his hand away during what was intended to be a "friendly" handshake following the treaty signing between their parties.
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| Psych! And the Roman salute was born |
I have little good to say about M. Il figlio del secolo. Although Luca Marinelli (Mussolini), Barbara Chichiarelli (Margherita Grassini), and the rest of the cast all looked the part, they portrayed almost everyone as violent, mentally ill deviants. Dark and grainy, it was difficult to fully appreciate the stunning sets and incomparable landscapes of Il Belle Paese. While the costumes and uniforms were fun to see—I almost wish the fez would make a comeback—I was particularly taken with the scene in the empty Teatro di San Carlo in Naples, where the tragic geisha Cio-Cio-San nervously performed Un bel dì, vedremo, the famous aria from Giacomo Puccini’s opera Madama Butterfly for Mussolini. The palatial grandeur of the theatre and the bedizened soprano in oshiroi and kimono were magnificent. Otherwise, there is little else worth getting excited about.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, April 27, Feast of Our Lady of Montserrat
