Vincere

Passion and a crazed commitment to maintaining power are two essential elements that any aspiring fascist ruler should possess. In the case of Benito Mussolini, these were elements that he embraced not only in his political career, but also in his private life. “Vincere” explores the secret life of Benito Mussolini’s lover—and self-proclaimed spouse—Ida Dalser and the emotional and psychological torture she endures as a result of being swept under the rug. In this chilling account, Ida’s resolve and sanity are tested as she attempts to fight the unified powers of Il Duce’s regime.

In this fictional recreation of her life, Ida, played by Giovanna Mezzogiorno, is shoved into the shadows of secluded homes and mental hospitals as everyone around her insists that she forget the past and the father of her child. Mezzogiorno delivers a stunning performance, masterfully portraying the desperation of a scorned lover. Her obsession with her imagined marriage to Mussolini (Filippo Timi)—a problem first and foremost because he was already married with children before his affair with Ida—is second only to her resolve that she hasn’t imagined anything and is justified in her demands for legitimacy.

Mezzogiorno’s performance is enhanced exponentially by the powerful imagery of determination that accompanies her progressively bitter outlook on life. As she is seated in front of the daunting board of psychologists, Ida removes the human skull from the doctor’s desk to let them know that she is not swayed by the danger of her demise and will not be intimidated. Her obsession transforms into a desire for retribution when she realizes Mussolini has long since left her behind in light of his political successes, many of which she helped him achieve early in his career.

The score accompanying the various climatic scenes—Ida and Benito’s first love scene, for instance—works marvelously to accent the frightening and sinister aura that surrounds their relationship. The combination of shrill flute lines and harsh stringed instruments in serious scenes like the opening town forum provide an eerie accompaniment to Mussolini’s austerity, a creepiness that accurately complements Mussolini’s bloody thirst for power.

The passionate dialogue delivered by nearly all the characters also helps to portray the volatility of the relationships that surround Mussolini. Ida’s interaction with Mussolini’s lover while he is hospitalized is a prime example of this: this lover, a nun nonetheless, exclaims, “I’ll kill her; I’ll rip her ears off!” in an emotional explosion in reaction to Ida’s entrance. Throughout the entire film, emotions fail to flag.

Despite the film’s varied artistic strengths, a significant drawback are the sometimes-confusing transitions and occasional lack of continuity. The latter is especially evident when Ida’s son is suddenly introduced as an adult after an inexplicable temporal leap in the narrative. To make matters even more confusing, the adult son is played by the same actor who portrays Mussolini. Furthermore, although the montages of real-life Italian scenes of political turmoil accompanying the events in the film constitute a very interesting approach to crafting a fictionalized historical account, their unexpected placement undermines the sense of fluidity.

The wonderful acting on the part of the main characters and the intense depiction of the entire account very much outweigh the film’s faults. For example, early in the film, Mussolini menacingly barks, “It’s ten past five, I challenge God!” This powerful performance, and the many others like it, ensures that this film will haunt viewers long after they have left the cinema.