But that is the point. For too long, we have turned fascism into a Halloween costume—obvious evil. Mussolini: Son of the Century reminds us that the original fascists were young, stylish, and furious. They didn't smell like sulfur; they smelled like cheap cologne and adrenaline.
The show opens after WWI. Italy is the "victor defeated"—it won the war but lost its soul. Veterans are broke, socialists are striking, and the liberal state is crumbling. Enter Mussolini, fresh from editing Il Popolo d’Italia . He doesn't storm Rome with an army; he bullies, negotiates, and lies his way in. The series brilliantly captures the "biennio rosso" (the two red years) and the subsequent fascist squads—not as uniformed soldiers, but as violent, chaotic gangs who beat up socialists one day and drink with the police chief the next. Wright’s direction is the secret weapon here. This is not a dusty period piece. Mussolini speaks directly to the camera. He looks at you —the viewer in 2026—and sneers. He justifies his beatings. He mocks your morality. He calls himself the "son of the century" because he believes the 20th century belongs to violence, speed, and the death of empathy. mussolini: son of the century
In the show, we watch the opposition fold. We watch the King, Victor Emmanuel III, refuse to sign the arrest warrant because he is scared of a civil war. We watch the elites negotiate with the thug because they think they can "manage" him. But that is the point
Streaming now on Sky Atlantic (Internationally on Max/HBO). They didn't smell like sulfur; they smelled like
There is a danger in watching a show about a dictator. Not the danger of propaganda, but the danger of myth. We often look back at the 20th century’s tyrants through a haze of black-and-white newsreels—stiff, slow, and unreal. We tell ourselves they were monsters, but in doing so, we distance them. We forget the magnetism. We forget the crowd.
The aesthetic is jarring: Vivaldi’s "Four Seasons" screeches into synth-punk. Scenes of parliamentary debate dissolve into brutal street fights. The fascist rallies are shot like modern music festivals—ecstatic, hypnotic, and terrifyingly cool. You watch the Blackshirts take over and you realize: They think they are the heroes. The most brutal moment of the series isn't the murder of Giacomo Matteotti (the socialist deputy kidnapped and killed in 1924). It is the aftermath. When Mussolini gives his famous "battle for the majority" speech, admitting he is responsible for the violence but daring the opposition to arrest him.