“Love thyself
last: cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,
Thy God’s, and truth’s”
King Henry VIII, Act III, Scene II
In Franco Zeffirelli’s quasi autobiographical Tea with Mussolini (co-written with John Mortimer), young Luca’s (Charlie
Lucas, whose knowing innocence was spot on) goal is to become the perfect
British gentlemen, while the fascist dictator wishes his people to dominate and
eliminate—as appropriate—first all of the British, then the Americans and Jews
from any land. Neither quite succeeds, but the journey is fascinating.
It falls to the self-exiled English Scorpioni (Judi
Dench as Arabella the fresco-mad art protector delivers the role with
compelling passion, Joan Plowright’s Mary captures every scene as it’s her lot
to raise the “bastard” son of an Italian merchant opportunist, and Maggie Smith
who revels in her role as Lady Hester Random, ambassadorial widow and
grand dame of good taste whether in up-scale Florence hotels, or “soldiering on”
in a dirty barracks after being “taken into custody”—an arrest was simply too
vulgar) to provide Luca’s education in all things artistic. Two very Americans,
Cher as the marriage-by-balance-sheet Elsa Morganthal Strauss-Armistan and Lily
Tomlin as the wonderfully “lesbotic” Georgie, ensure that Luca the elder’s
(played by the perpetually handsome Baird Wallace) initiation into the other
parts of life covers all the bases from vice to lust to the pursuit of beauty. The
banter, jealousy and cattiness among these charming stereotypes of the
Anglo-American lifestyle sweepstakes make much of this engaging film a winner.
But the real star, art, is the never far below the visual
bounty or plot’s direction. Having arranged an audience with the Italian despot
following an incredibly metaphoric scene where the black shirts literally toss
paintings out of the window, we are astonished to learn of Mussolini’s professed
admiration for “your Lord Byron’s poetry.” And the looks between the campy tea
boys allowed Zeffirelli another little dig at the “superior race doctrine.”
The architecture of Florence and San Gimignano are the
story’s stunning backdrops, captured magnificently by David Watkin’s camera. From the vast array of the “body beautiful” at the Instituto d’Arte, to the
fountains, statues to the opening over-the-top “rendering” of
Browning-by-the-grave (accompanied by a solo violin whose left-hand slides
provided just the right amount of sickly-sweet aural reinforcement) to the
spectacular slide show of contemporary art in an unforgettable scene as Elsa
turned Luca onto fine art at a private showing in her villa, art abounds.
Particularly telling was Luca’s discovery of Shakespeare as
he and Mary “perform” the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet using lamp
lighting, a stand-up cardboard set, and actors-on-a-stick. They regale each
other with thoughts of undying love until, like so many scenes in the Bard’s
canon, their idyllic moment is truncated by the sudden arrival of soldiers who
have never recited a rhyming couplet.
Not everything worked. Comparing Schubert’s “Unfinished”
Symphony to the output of a failed artist didn’t ring true. Then, forcing
Lady Hester’s grandson into drag so as to remain under the cover and protection of
the ladies seemed more designed to provide funny lines for Georgie rather than
the avoidance of certain death. Nonetheless, his dénouement wasn’t difficult to
watch!
In the end the frescoes were saved, the Nazi’s routed, the
“ugly American” rescued (thanks to a wonderful scene of humble “tart” between
Elsa and Lady Hester), and many lessons were learned by the abandoned then
adopted son.
Like all good biographies, the facts were assisted by some
generous truths, but peering into the life of one of our most remarkable artists
adds yet another dimension and understanding to his previous work. JWR