‘Fiume o Morte!’ Review: Irreverent Contemporary Reenactment of a Fascist Takeover Exposes the Absurdity of History

by

In a period when authoritarian politics are gaining traction in several regions globally, Igor Bezinović’s imaginative documentary “Fiume o Morto!” stands as a poignant reminder that even the most tyrannical and boastful dictators can leave behind fleeting impacts. The subject of this documentary is Gabriele D’Annunzio, the renowned Italian poet and military officer, who, in 1919, seized control of the politically contentious city of Fiume (now known as Rijeka). He transformed it, albeit briefly and recklessly, into the Italian Regency of Carnaro, an autonomous city-state with himself as the leader. The absurd arrogance of this venture is vividly portrayed in Bezinović’s film, which employs more than 300 current residents of Rijeka to reenact D’Annunzio’s brief reign of oppression, a subject that deserves no respect whatsoever.

The outcome is both captivatingly humorous, similar to Robert Greene’s “Bisbee ’17,” but taken to exaggerated comedic heights. However, beneath the lighthearted historical reenactments lies a deeper exploration of D’Annunzio’s image on both sides of the Italo-Croatian border and its impact on society over time, particularly in regards to how failed dictators are either idolized or erased from memory. The filmmaker, Bezinović (a Croatian himself), delves into this intriguing subject matter.

As I gaze upon its vibrant tapestry, “Fiume o Morto!” – a title subtly echoing D’Annunzio’s outdated battle cry, “Fiume or death!” – manages to honor the rich and intricate modern identity of a land that has been under various national flags throughout history. With its multifaceted demographic and linguistic landscape, it paints a beautiful picture of diversity. Having won the top prize at Rotterdam’s Tiger competition, this is director Bezinović’s first feature since “A Brief Excursion” in 2017, and it promises to be a staple of this year’s festival circuit. Its allure extends beyond the art house sphere, making it an engaging choice for cinephiles everywhere.

Bezinović, humorously commenting, says, ‘I’ve been advised not to dwell too much on fascism in the introduction,’ following a brief but impactful narration of Rijeka’s complicated relationship with its neighboring country, accompanied by images of restored city landmarks like the Street of Victims of Fascism (previously known as Via Roma). This sets the stage for a documentary that explores, in a thought-provoking and satirical manner, how different generations reinterpret the past and how the present continues to be divided along political and geographical lines.

In downtown Rijeka, Bezinović conducts street interviews on the sidewalks, seeking people’s opinions about D’Annunzio. Interestingly, many younger individuals have no idea who he is or can’t recall him. The responses from others differ, possibly influenced by their heritage or educational background: While some label him as a “fascist” outright, an elderly man offers a more nuanced perspective, acknowledging him not only as a “fascist,” but also as a “great poet and lover.” During these conversations, the filmmakers also use the opportunity to scout potential actors, inviting anyone they speak with, regardless of their familiarity with D’Annunzio’s history, to participate in a dramatization of his conquest and eventual fall from power.

In this production, some actors are selected based on their physical traits to portray D’Annunzio at different stages of the coup, while others are chosen for their language skills. One speaker expresses her longing for a bygone era when Venetian dialect was prevalent in Rijeka, though her sentiment is more wistful than nostalgic. A musician with a bohemian appearance offers to play one of D’Annunzio’s soldiers, despite his apparent anarchistic leanings, to which the director replies, “Lots of that in the army.” Ultimately, the diverse and non-traditional portrayals are the main focus of this project.

This play features actors selected for their distinct physical appearances or language skills to depict various stages of D’Annunzio during the coup. One actress expresses a sense of longing for Rijeka’s past when Venetian dialect was common, but her feelings are more wistful than nostalgic. A musician with a bohemian style volunteers to play one of D’Annunzio’s soldiers despite seeming more like an anarchist, and the director responds that there’s plenty of that in the military. The unique and historically unrestrained interpretations are the key aspect of this production.

The film portrays D’Annunzio’s ambitious, rebellious journey from Venice to the border in 1919, culminating in his disgraced withdrawal 15 months later following an ill-advised declaration of war against Italy. It accomplishes this through the use of enthusiastic amateur actors and narrators, authentic costumes fitting for the era, and minimal resources. Filming took place on location at relevant cities like Rijeka, with scenes meticulously set up and directed. A massive collection of 10,000 photographs taken by D’Annunzio himself to record his presumed victory were utilized, and the aspect ratio adjusts to reflect these grandiose images.

Inconsistencies from anachronistic city elements and financial constraints often challenge the realism of the performances, humorously emphasizing the distance between the past and present. Important speeches are performed for only a handful instead of crowds; a chaotic scene depicting soldiers partying on a bridge gains a fresh twist with unexpected, anachronistic horseplay.

Despite its flaws, Bezinović’s reenactment of history offers an engaging experience, particularly with its detailed portrayal of the five-day “Bloody Christmas” battle leading to D’Annunzio’s surrender. As we find ourselves emotionally attached to this besieged city, returning to modern-day Rijeka feels refreshing. The film concludes by showing how little physical and architectural traces remain of D’Annunzio’s time in the city, adding a touch of joy to the director’s presentation. Contrastingly, just across the border in Trieste, a new statue celebrates the centennial of his occupation – a bitter reminder that history can be manipulated by those who triumph, even in a film that appears lighthearted and cheerful.

Read More

2025-02-08 21:47