A New Series About Mussolini Captures the Performance Behind Fascism

Joe Wright's "Mussolini: Son of the Century" strips away the mystique to show authoritarianism as calculated spectacle. #sponsored

Early in Joe Wright's Mussolini: Son of the Century, there's a moment where Luca Marinelli stands before a mirror, practicing the jutted jaw, the theatrical scowl, the precise angle at which to hold his head that became the fascist leader’s trademarks. The eight-episode series, directed by Wright (Atonement, Darkest Hour, Pride & Prejudice) and based on Antonio Scurati's novel, follows the early political career of Benito Mussolini.

In this scene, Marinelli (as Mussolini) is rehearsing Mussolini's signature moves, studying how the dictator turned his own face into a propaganda tool. Watching an actor practice being a man who was already performing — Mussolini playing Mussolini, now filtered through another layer of performance — I figured this was as good a time as any to finally write about something I've been thinking about for a while: the performative nature of fascism. So let’s do that.

Marinelli as Mussolini. Image courtesy of MUBI.

Before Mussolini was Il Duce, he was a newspaper editor who understood that people don't want policy debates. They want a show. They want to feel like they're part of something dramatic, something that makes their ordinary lives feel like they matter. He figured out that if you gave them that feeling – if you made politics into entertainment – you could get them to go along with pretty much anything.

Quite naturally, the series feels uncomfortably current: the way Mussolini made shamelessness into a kind of authenticity. Every gesture calculated for maximum impact. Every speech designed to make people feel they were witnessing something historic just by watching him. The actual governing? That’s secondary.

Marinelli plays him not as some raving dictator but as a calculated performer. The direct addresses to crowds, the theatrical rages, playing the victim one moment and the strongman the next, selling himself as the star of Italy's national drama where everyone else was either a devoted fan or a bitter enemy. Watching it, you realize Mussolini basically wrote the playbook that strongmen everywhere are still using. And once you see the performance for what it is, you start recognizing the same moves everywhere.

The playbook hasn't changed much in a hundred years.

Trump turned his rallies into variety shows where he'd riff for hours, toss paper towels into hurricane crowds, and promise that only he could fix everything. The actual (disastrous) policies? Who knows. Who cared. People came for the show — to watch him mock reporters, nickname opponents, and tell them they were the real Americans while everyone else was fake news.

Bolsonaro rode motorcycles shirtless, did push-ups for the cameras, and livestreamed from his hospital bed. Bukele in El Salvador makes every announcement look like a movie trailer, complete with dramatic music and slow-motion walks, posting videos of himself inspecting his new mega-prison like he’s touring the Death Star. Milei shows up with a chainsaw to symbolize cutting government spending.

They all cast themselves using Mussolini's formula: they're simultaneously victims (of the media, the elites, the deep state) and the only ones strong enough to fight back. They're outsiders who'll drain the swamp, even when they're obviously insiders. Trump was a billionaire who convinced people he understood the working class. Bolsonaro spent the better part of three decades in Congress while claiming to be anti-establishment.

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What makes it work is how perfectly the performance technique aligns with far-right ideology. The strongman act naturally leads to authoritarian policies – you can't be the only one who can fix everything if democratic institutions are functioning properly. The chaos and enemies you need for the show (immigrants, elites, the media) become real targets for real policies. The performance demands simplistic solutions to complex problems, which is exactly what far-right politics offers: build a wall, ban them, lock them up. Make everything about you. Turn every news cycle into your show. Create chaos, then promise you're the only one who can fix it. Most importantly, be entertaining enough that people would rather watch you than some boring politician explaining why complicated problems need complicated solutions.

The shamelessness becomes proof of authenticity. A normal politician would be embarrassed to contradict themselves, to get caught lying, to say something outrageous. But when you don't flinch, when you double down, when you make shamelessness your brand, it reads as strength. You're not playing by their rules. You're real.

Why do we keep falling for it? Part of it's that the show actually delivers something real: the feeling that you matter, that you're part of history happening right now. When everything feels broken and nobody seems to be doing anything about it, here's someone who at least makes you feel something. Anger, excitement, hope, whatever. It beats the numbness of watching politicians give the same focus-grouped answers to the same questions.

Marnelli as Mussolini. Image courtesy of MUBI.

The performance also breaks through in ways that normal politics can't. You can fact-check every lie, but the audience isn't there for accuracy. They're there to watch someone fight the people they hate. Every journalist who gets mad, every institution that pushes back, just proves the performer's point about being persecuted by elites. The angrier the response, the better the show. His supporters get to feel like they're part of the rebellion just by watching.

And social media turned out to be the perfect stage for this kind of politics. Mussolini had to build a whole propaganda apparatus, create newsreels, control newspapers. Now? You just tweet. You go live on Facebook. Every outrageous statement becomes content, gets shared, starts arguments. The algorithms love engagement, and nothing engages like someone being shameless enough to say what you're not supposed to say.

Once you recognize the techniques though, they get easier to spot. The calculated “mistakes” that dominate news cycles. The way they pick fights with celebrities or athletes to stay relevant. How they always need an emergency, a crisis, an enemy at the gates. Watch for how they make every story about themselves, even tragedies that have nothing to do with them. Notice how the solutions are always simple and the problems are always someone else's fault.

The exhaustion is part of it too. They create so much chaos that eventually you stop trying to keep track of what's true.

Marinelli as Mussolini. Image courtesy of MUBI.

One thing that made Mussolini: Son of the Century worthwhile viewing for me is that watching it as drama, knowing how it ends, you can see the mechanics clearly. Marinelli's performance strips away any mystique. You watch him practice his poses, calculate his outbursts, manufacture his crises. The series doesn't let you forget you're watching a performance about a performer.

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Joe Wright's Mussolini: Son of the Century is now streaming on MUBI in 🇺🇲 🇨🇦 🇳🇱 🇦🇷 🇨🇱 🇨🇴 🇧🇷 🇲🇽 🇹🇷 🇮🇳 🇳🇿. Get 30 days free at mubi.com/thepresentage. #MUBIPartner

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To close this piece, I wanted to offer readers a few reading suggestions on the topic of fascism (not that anyone who reads TPA is in the dark on this). Enjoy!

Recommendations

• Jason Stanley - How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them (2018)

• Ruth Ben-Ghiat - Strongmen: Mussolini to the Present (2020)

• Timothy Snyder - On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century (2017)

• Umberto Eco - Ur-Fascism (1995)