Bellocchio's latest is yet another look at a controversial Italian political figure, Benito Mussolini; however, it deals with a phase of his life which was kept 'in the shadows' for a great many years – the dictator's first marriage, which even yielded him a son! As was the case with GOOD MORNING, NIGHT (2003) – in which the film-maker had treated the abduction and execution of ex-Prime Minister Aldo Moro – the politician emerges not to be the central figure after all (remaining, similarly, little more than a cipher); here, in fact, the protagonist is Mussolini's secreted – or, more precisely, rejected – wife, who even winds up in a mental institution (a fate which also befalls their offspring, where both would die eventually)! The meticulous period reconstruction (and emphatic score) was to be expected, yet the human drama – and, by extension, the fine leading performances of Giovanna Mezzogiorno and Fabrizio Timi – is ultimately what renders the movie compelling; interestingly, while Mussolini as an older man is shown only via authentic newsreel footage, Timi plays both father and son as a young adult! Needless to say, the director distances himself from the Fascist fervor which had gripped his nation in those pivotal war years – choosing to depict Mussolini as godless (the film begins with him defying the Almighty to strike him down) and inhuman (both in the treatment of his first family and in his animalistic sexual prowess: the latter scenes, of which there a few, would otherwise have no discernible point) and even goes so far as to ridicule him by having son repeatedly caricature father's famously arrogant mannerisms while speechifying (with this in mind, the title – which translates to "Winning" – is clearly ironic, since what it presents is anything but the correct fighting spirit)!

Much has been told of Italian dictator Benito Mussolini, but Marco Bellocchio's "Vincere" tells of another period during the Fascist's life. Or rather, not his life, but the existence of his first wife Ida Dalser. Played to a tee by Giovanna Mezzogiorno, Ida met Benito (Filippo Timi) back when he was the editor of socialist newspaper Avanti. It was right before WWI when the future Il Duce broke away from the socialists and established the newspaper Il Popolo d'Italia. Not only that, having gotten injured in the war, Mussolini dumped Ida and Benito Jr. for his more famous wife Rachele (Michela Cescon).

It this point, the movie shifts entirely to Ida and Benito Jr., while Mussolini is seen only in newsreels. It's as if Ida represents the common person in Italy. Whereas Mussolini used to be a common person, he suddenly becomes the distant, bombastic authority figure. Ida, meanwhile, is thrown into a mental institution. As her sanity deteriorates further and further, accompanied by the frigid weather, one gets a sense of what would soon happen to Italy.

I had never known about this whole part of history, but it's good that the movie is recounting it. Without a doubt, this story serves to show what a megalomaniac Il Duce was - to say the least. But above all, it's important that we learn about the past so as not to repeat the mistakes.

I'm still not sure after the end of Vincere whether Ida Dasler was really Ida Mussolini, Benito's wife. Maybe the director Marco Bellochio doesn't know with certainty. His film Vincere is about questioning a stated truth, however, and also charting what happens in the course of power when someone can be cast aside in a fascist society. In this case it just happens to be the woman who was precisely not his documented wife, but had his child, and still loved him despite being an SOB (much more Catholic, indeed, than his early years as a Socialist would leave one to believe). By the end, Bellochio gets me as close to believing as possible, and has successfully challenged the usual image we picture of Mussolini as a big bloated blowhard who got his comeuppance. At one time, indeed, he was a charming, intellectual ladykiller to an extent (no pun intended).

When Ida locks eyes on Benito, who in the opening scene immediately grabs attention by the audience watching him in the room and the audience we're in in the theater by opening a watch and declaring "Now, may God strike me dead..." and of course it doesn't happen. He is eloquent, ambitious and carries a presence that can attract anyone's attention, even if it's the negative kind (and as a young Socialist in 1914 he gets a bit of it). Ida is less up in arms about the politics than she is for the man, someone who is strength and masculinity and, basically, she falls for him hard. He, apparently, seems to as well, and they have a passionate affair- she even going so far as to sell her belongings to help him start a paper (which he coldly sees as a loan, and says "So I guess we have to get married, huh?")- which produces a child.

But, lo and behold, he is already married and has a child, something that, at least for a moment, is kind of surprising for the audience. Not so surprising is the thought that pops into one's head: he's Mussolini, this is *not* like him how? But more than that, all evidence of their marriage, whether it was there or not, is gone by disappearing or being stolen by Mussolini's men. Ida, being the sort to never stop, keeps doggedly pursuing, and its here where the story goes into its next, Kafkaesque gear when Ida is put away in an asylum (her son, Benito Albino, in an orphanage),with her claim that she's Mrs. Il Duce laughed off (one of the usual ones, the nuns and other patients think). There's some sympathy, including a psychiatrist that tries to tell her to "act" like the Good Fascist Lady in order to get out. But alas, it's not meant to be, not when the truth is right there, at least to her.

The director in the first act sucks us into the mood and time of 1914 Italy, with old newsreel footage and big title cards that flash across the screen, as a kind of bittersweet reminder of the old times with the political action in swing in the country. He also is fascinated by the act of cinema itself; he knows we're watching this story unfold in a movie, so why not take some time to show the "movie-ness" of it (there's even a great scene where a fight breaks out between the "Peace" group and the "War" group in a theater watching Italian news on the war front and the piano player keeps going on). At times it may seem obvious, like having Chaplin's The Kid playing at the asylum where it hits a little too close to home for Ida. But it often works well how we respond to images: the people around Ida see Il Duce one way, as they do the Pope, but she just sees a man she loved as a tyrannical, unjust tyrant... who she would still be faithful to if she could (albeit at one point she's prepared to do him in, claiming to his son with gun in hand "One bullet - for his heart").

Bellochio provides a lot of succinctly gorgeous images, such as when it's snowing heavily and Ida makes it to climb the gate to throw out her letters. But he also makes it a film worth the time for his actors. Giovanni Mezzogiorno, I'll repeat that name: Giovanni Mezzogiorno. At first it isn't she who really commands the screen, but her co-star Filippo Timi as Mussolini, who makes a striking pose as a man who is perhaps too intelligent for his own good (Timi is able to make that "I want to be better than Napoleon" face and tone of voice really well). But it doesn't take long for Giovanni to take over the film, and when she does it's impossible to take your eyes off of her. She brings grace and empathy for the character. Even when Ida is supposed to be at her most crazed and delirious for Mussolini, she's never less than believable in her hysterics. And when it comes time for her to be subtle, or just break down in tears, she makes this woman heartbreaking (watch as she's given a farcical interview at the asylum, knowing whatever she says will be bunk).

It's a performance that will keep her on my radar for years to come. But at the same time the film as a whole is worth watching twice; I'm sure there will be certain details I missed, or a couple of scenes near the end that will flow better on a repeat viewing. Bellochio's film is rich and satisfying as a biopic of a woman who to some could just be myth, and to others could be some kind of feminist hero (or tragic figure). And ultimately the music Carlo Crivelli does its best to steal the operatic show from Mezzogiorno. Win!