Joe Wright’s eight-part series drops you into the first, most dangerous phase of Benito Mussolini’s rise: theatrical, loud, and uncomfortably intimate. Luca Marinelli plays Mussolini as a man who talks to viewers, inviting us into his seduction routine — and the show’s release on Mubi makes that invitation easy to accept (new episodes arrive weekly).
Fascism
Style is a weapon here
Wright treats history like a rave-era music video: spinning grenades, mirrored sets, sudden black-and-white jolts. The direction is deliberately overcharged — invigorating at moments and exhausting at others — which underlines how spectacle can mask a political project. Critics note this feverish approach as central to the show’s identity.
Performance that keeps your eyes open
Marinelli’s Mussolini is bulldog-charisma with cracks; the actor makes the dictator both repulsive and eerily persuasive. That performance is what transforms the spectacle into a study of persuasion — how one loud, theatrical figure can reshape a nation’s mood and normalize violent politics.
How the show frames the birth of fascism
Adapted from Antonio Scurati’s novel, the series walks through the origins of the movement — from 1919 street violence to the decisive political turns of the early 1920s — showing how confusion, grievance, and performance coalesced into an ideology we now call fascism. The timeline and scope are intentionally focused: this is a portrait of the moment the movement found shape.
The sound that pushes you forward
Instead of a period-drama string score, the series uses pounding electronica (Tom Rowlands of The Chemical Brothers) to give violence a modern, hypnotic beat. That sonic choice makes the past feel unnervingly present — a reminder that the aesthetics of power travel across decades.
Verdict in practical terms
Watch Son of the Century as a cautionary lesson: don’t let bravado become belief. The show is compelling precisely because it teaches, by immersion, how spectacle, anger, and charisma can congeal into fascism. If you stream it, do so with notes, context, and historical reading at hand — and use it as a prompt to ask uncomfortable questions about how modern media amplifies political performance.