So I was rather excited to be asked to review the new Sky Atlantic TV series M: Son of the Century. The series focuses on the rise of Italian fascism and its consolidation in power from 1919 to 1925. Watching all eight parts in one sitting, I was astounded above all by the performance by well-known Italian actor Luca Marinelli.
Marinelli is on screen for almost the entire eight hours of the series – often in close up and looking straight at the camera. It is an extraordinary tour-de-force performance. Physically, Marinelli inhabits the role much as Robert De Niro did in Raging Bull, putting on a lot of weight in order to play this part; the resemblance to the dictator is uncanny.
But there is much more. We are confronted with a torrent of words, speeches and internal monologues, many of which have been drawn directly from Mussolini’s journalism and speeches. Here Marinelli captures the precision and charismatic nature of Mussolini’s speech, but also the brutality of many of the concepts he was expressing.
There is a great deal of baroque Italian swearing too, and Marinelli powerfully portrays the uncouth son-of-a-blacksmith and his range of expressions with relish. I would be amazed if this actor does not win awards for the role. It is an astonishing performance.
Director Joe Wright’s series is based on Antonio Scurati’s best-selling Italian historical novel of the same name. Scurati’s approach to Mussolini’s story draws on historical work and documents, but importantly tells the story with the flair of an experienced and successful novelist.
This and the other three books in Scurati’s series about Mussolini have provoked controversy among Italian historians of fascism, not least for some of the historical inaccuracies, but also for what they considered a “dumbing-down” of history. However, others have defended the books as a new way of understanding and disseminating history, and the books have been wildly popular with general audiences.
Wright’s series adapts the first book. Its starts when Mussolini formed the first fascist movement in 1919 and inspired the “blackshirt” squads who used violence to crush the trade union and socialist movement. It covers events in 1922 when Mussolini led the fascist insurrection that brought him to power, known as the March on Rome. And, it ends with his famous speech by in parliament, which marked the beginnings of the consolidation of Mussolini’s dictatorship in 1925.
This is a complicated story, but the scriptwriters and director have done an exemplary job in bringing this history to a wider audience. Unsurprisingly, they have often simplified the past, or altered events to fit the narrative. This paring down of events generally works well in bringing this period to life, but, of course, historians of the period will notice the numerous times that episodes deviate from what really happened.
For instance, certain figures close to Mussolini who play a central role in the series are used almost as symbols and as ways of understanding the dictator. Above all, this technique uses is used to elevate Margherita Sarfatti, the writer, journalist and lover of Mussolini who was a key figure in inventing and spreading the cult of dictator.
In Wright’s drama, Sarfatti is depicted as a kind of spin doctor, as someone he turns to in times of difficulty and as an inspiration for his political strategy. Her role is overplayed in the series, but this is done to increase the clarity of storytelling and provide a sharp narrative.
The tone of the series shifts constantly between darkness and extreme violence to occasional comedy and farce. This is a tricky balance to pull off, but it generally works. Anyone watching will have their views on which parts lapse into bad taste and which do not, and the risks of glamorising or playing down shocking and tragic events.
Certainly, there were moments which jarred, especially the farcical telling of the March on Rome in 1922. Wright and the scriptwriters, correctly in my opinion, place the violence of fascism at the centre of the story, and it rarely pulls its punches in this regard.
It is impossible to ignore the contemporary relevance of this series, and it is clearly intended as a warning. Democracy, this series tells us, is extremely fragile. At one point Mussolini turns to the camera and says: “Democracy is beautiful. It even allows you the possibility of destroying it.”
With the victory of Trump and the political rise of Elon Musk, the pertinence, prescience and power of this film has deepened. There is even a discussion at one point of the meaning and role of the “Roman salute” in terms its use during fascism, something which has been much debated in the light of Musk’s own recent controversial “hand gesture”.
But the ultimate finger of blame is pointed at those who enabled Mussolini’s rise and who tolerated his incendiary language and the violence of his followers. The series ends starkly, with the word “silence”. Those who did nothing were just as responsible as those who supported the rise of this brutal dictator.
John Foot, Professor of Modern Italian History, University of Bristol
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.