I finally saw Vincere - the onscreen story of Isa Dalser, who was Mussolini’s secret lover and first wife. She bore his first son, Benito, and sold everything she had in order to fund Il Popolo d’Italia, the newspaper launched Mussolini’s political career. In return Dalser expected Mussolini’s loyalty and everlasting love, but he abandoned her soon after Benito’s birth and married a more reasonable woman, Rachele, for much of the same of reason that he abandoned his ardent socialist stance and embraced fascism: it better suited his ascent to power.
Dalser’s fiery admiration for Mussolini never waned, though it did precipitate a lot of anguish and disillusion. She fought stubbornly for his attention, only to be caged in madhouses, severed from her son, and swept quietly into the sea of history. Just recently has her story surfaced, and Director Marco Bellochio weaves it together with actual newsreel footage, wartime slogans, propaganda, and other visual elements to illuminate a rather unique perspective of the man Mussolini.
How was Vincere? Cinematically: powerful. Emotionally: disturbing. So much that I walked straight out of the theatre to the park. Despite the 5437 pollen count, I needed to walk and process.
While walking, I thought repeatedly of Camille Claudel, a French film I saw years ago. Claudel was the lover of Auguste Rodin. The two met when Claudel arrived in Rodin’s sculpting class with a self-taught talent that moved him deeply. She became not only his pupil, but the inspiration for his art and the great passion of his life. Although their 16 year affair was mutually amorous, Rodin began to distance himself, which, naturally, turned Claudel into an emotional wreck. Her complex emotions eventually drove Rodin away, though he’d always claimed to love her ability to feel and “to live from her heart.” Rodin lived the remainder of his days in a quiet domesticity with an unremarkable wife, but it was evident in his work that Claudel remained his muse.
Camille Claudel’s story isn’t all that unique, and neither is Isa Dalser’s to be honest. Many women, including myself, can relate all too well to their experiences. What makes their stories so exceptional are the men whom they knew and loved. Men who influenced the course of history and culture in huge ways, but who were themselves so influenced by the very intimate passion expressed through two lovers.
In fact, just six hours before I saw Vincere, I read a book review for A Ticket to the Circus, the memoir of Norman Mailer’s last wife. Though I only read an excerpt of the book, I can already tell that her story reveals not only an entirely different view of Mailer than anyone has ever known before, but also a greater understanding of his work. His novels make more sense now. Just as Claudel’s story enlightens Rodin’s work. And as Dalser’s fate enlightens Mussolini’s oppression of Italia.
Maybe it was too late, but these women finally found their voices, offering new ways of seeing people like Mussolini, Rodin, and Mailer. It’s like viewing history through an entirely new lens, and it’s something that has become very interesting to me. Not really sure what else to say about it at this point, still thinking…
