At the fountainhead of Italian vernacular literature and, indeed, post-Medieval European literature stands three great Florentines – Dante Alighieri, Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch) and Giovanni Boccaccio. However, by the time of Italian reunification, over half a millennium later, the status of Italian literature had declined from its great height. I think that in that period and its wake, Italy once again produced three standout literary figures who all shared a common geographical origin. They are Giovanni Verga, Luigi Pirandello and Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. Despite the political, economic and cultural dominance of northern Italy, it is particularly notable that these three writers all hailed from the southern island of Sicily.
The last of these writers is known pretty much for only a single novel – "The Leopard." This book, however, justly suffices to ensure Di Lampedusa’s high literary status. It has also been adapted for the screen twice. The first is the critically acclaimed 1963 film directed by Luchino Visconti and starring Burt Lancaster. The second is the recently released Netflix miniseries, and that is the subject of this review.
As befits a story set in 19th-century Europe, the story of "The Leopard" is a story about a society in change. "The Leopard" is the moniker of Don Fabrizio Corbera, Prince of Salina, part of the elite of the then Bourbon-ruled Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. Yet this kingdom was first threatened and then overthrown in the invasion of Sicily by Garibaldi’s redshirts in 1860 as part of the movement for the reunification of Italy. Sicily was then incorporated into the new Kingdom of Italy, which was ruled at that time from Turin in Piedmont. The Leopard then depicts how Don Fabrizio and his family navigate their way forward in this new dispensation.
Although Garibaldi is nowhere near as well-known a figure today as he was in the 19th century, he has been seen as a hero of progress by liberals in the 19th century and subsequently. However, "The Leopard" presents a different angle from which to view Garibaldi’s movement. It asks whether the supposed liberation of Sicily and its unification into Italy was actually not more like a colonial action by more powerful northerners against a less powerful southern Mediterranean people. Don Fabrizio, played by Kim Rossi Stuart, himself has spoken of the 25 centuries in which Sicily has been under foreign domination, explicitly refers to the new situation of Sicily as being that of a “colony” and, by doing so, echoes the view of its ex-governor.
"The Leopard" also questions the altering social structure that this revolution has brought in its wake, the weakening of the aristocracy and the rise of the bourgeoisie. However, the commencement of the latter somewhat predates the arrival of Garibaldi and his men. The change is summoned up on one side by the leading representative of the new order, the delightfully slimy Don Calogero Sedera, played to perfection by Francesco Colella, who declares that “our revolution has brought us all great gifts.” The “all” is questionable here, but he certainly has thrived in it, for he has risen from obscurity through hard graft, clever speculation, and a disregard for any values other than money and status. This insatiably greedy and unfeeling figure becomes an essential member of the new Italian elite.
Yet, Don Fabrizio regarded this societal change differently. Well aware that his own class is at risk of extinction, Don Fabrizio sums up how he sees the situation, declaring, “We were the leopards. The lions. Those who take our place will be jackals and hyenas. Everything will be different but worse.” Calogero is clearly one of these “jackals” to Don Fabrizio. Indeed, the mismatch between the high rhetoric and the grasping actions of the former leads the latter to ironically declare, “You are the perfect man for this Italy.”
Don Fabrizio is undoubtedly a more sympathetic figure than Don Calogero. Yet, as with any good story, the situation depicted here is not simplistic. Those who explicitly regard Sicily as a colony whose glory days are now lost are those who formerly dominated it. Yet, their ancient regime is shown to have been brutal, corrupt and unjust at the beginning of the series. Moreover, Calogero, who, with his class, welcomes the new order, is right in declaring that he and those like him have “worked hard,” for they have, while those above him had it easy. Even if the new bourgeoisie are obnoxious, this does not mean their viewpoint is completely wrong. Indeed, Don Fabrizio makes his most astute evaluation when he also affirms that “leopards, jackals, sheep, we’ll all go on finding ourselves the salt of the earth.” In other words, people of whatever class have a natural bias toward themselves and their own type, so any fair, balanced evaluation of the change in Sicily cannot be made by any one of them.
Two characters of those who fight for Garibaldi’s revolution have different outlooks. One is the Sicilian Tancredi Falconeri (Saul Nanni), Don Fabrizio’s beloved nephew, who joins the revolution perceptively, foreseeing that it offers him his best chance for the future. The other is Bombello (Alessandro Sperduti), a northerner and true idealist, who, unsurprisingly, in this somewhat cynical drama, lives to see the dream of his revolution soiled by those like Don Calogero. It is also worth noting here that Bombello does not act like an imperious conqueror toward the Prince and his family but rather desires proper integration, symbolized by his seeking Concetta’s hand in marriage.
Thus, the overall picture is somewhat complicated, and in this way, the series reflects the brilliant original novel and, perhaps, life itself.
That is not to say that there are true victims in "The Leopard," though. Initially, it appears that it is Concetta (Benedetta Porcaroli), the daughter of Don Fabrizio, who is doomed to suffer through the series as she loses Tancredi, whom she loves, to Don Calogero’s daughter Angelica, played by Deva Cassel. However, Angelica’s victory, if that is what it is, proves to be a hollow one, for Tancredi turns out not to be much of a catch but rather that irritating type that pushes all aside to get what they want before self-pityingly repenting upon getting it. He soon proves to be an emotionally distant, unfaithful husband. Indeed, nobody cares for Angelica in a properly human manner. She is stunningly beautiful, but this is a curse for her rather than a blessing because nobody sees anything beyond her physique. This even includes her father, with whom she is used simply as another weapon in his armory to advance his goals. As such, Angelica somewhat resembles Estella in Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Don Calogero reveals his regard for Angelica at the wedding banquet by showing her off like a prize horse and boasting, “Look at the splendor” before he, the irony of ironies, then brings in a real prize pedigree horse to present to Tancredi as a wedding gift. As for the other men in the story, Angelica is an object of lust to them, and Tancredi is also attracted by her family’s money. On first seeing Angelica, Don Fabrizio makes an indecent declaration with classical allusions. Angelica is, unfortunately, well aware of how she is seen and reveals that life has been this way for her since she was only 12 years old. She is also painfully aware that her image is immutably set in the eyes of the Sicilians.
As a fan of the book and the 1963 film, I found something was off with this new adaptation, though. And it stems from the muddled handling of the issue of Tancredi and Concetta. Even before their relationship is broken by the appearance of Angelica, more importance is given to it than to the source material. That in itself is not, of course, necessarily a problem. Adaptations are, of course, adaptive. Nevertheless, this one complicates the storyline by giving a much more prominent role to Concetta and changing the character of her and her mother, Dona Maria Stella.
In the book and the film, Don Fabrizio is a pater familias of the traditional Mediterranean type. This figure is not infallible, but his decisions are not to be gainsaid, especially by his dependent family. He is certainly nothing like the equal partner and considerate father of the modern form of the family. The role of such a pater familias is particularly well symbolized in another screen drama with Sicilian roots – The Godfather. In that film, when Michael Corleone becomes the godfather, the door to his formerly equal American wife is closed. On the other hand, it would never have been open for a nineteenth-century traditional Sicilian aristocratic woman such as the Princess. As such, she is in the book a silly, traditional middle-aged woman who is subject to “fits of hysteria” and acts like “a frightened puppy” in front of her husband, who is “her tyrant.”
In the new adaptation of "The Leopard," however, the Princess, played by Astrid Meloni, is depicted as smart and shrewd and a capable foil for her sometimes heavy-footed husband. When a great emotional crisis strikes the family, it is Dona Maria Stella who appears more balanced than the Prince in the aftermath of it. She can also exert her power over the Prince and he confesses his need for her to her. Symbolically, when Don Fabrizio and Concetta return from Turin and the family is waiting outside the palace to greet them, it is the Princess who dominantly steps forward to welcome them. His marriage is very important to Don Fabrizio; indeed, he is depicted as being still very much in love with his wife, even dreaming of her when dancing with Angelica. Thus, in this adaptation, his need to find solace with a woman outside of his marriage is itself an unclear issue.
In the 21st century, this is the type of woman that we would expect in a modern family, and the “silly girl” Concetta of the book with her “shy graces” is also rendered of this type in the adaptation. Both actresses portray their characters excellently. Yet, in doing so, they necessarily warp a key element of the character of Don Fabrizio and a key element of the story. A similar effect would be had if, in a new adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, the characters of the silly and excitable yet endearing Mrs Bennett and her youngest daughters were portrayed as psychologically astute women. This would update them to modern sensibilities but seriously mar a beloved classic story.
A key theme in both the book and this adaptation is Tancredi’s turning from Concetta to Angelica and Don Fabrizio’s subsequent support for the marriage of his nephew to Calogero’s daughter. In the book, it forms part of the Prince’s penetrative understanding of the nature of the new order. Although Don Fabrizio opposes the changes occurring in his homeland, he also wishes Tancredi the best. He realizes that for his nephew to prosper in the new Italy, he will need financial support that the Prince, with his declining fortunes, cannot provide. So, he supports Tancredi’s marriage to the wealthy heiress Angelica. As a traditional pater familias, in deciding what is best for Tancredi, he naturally regards the feelings of his wife and daughter in the matter as irrelevant. Thus, Don Fabrizio, in backing Tancredi in this way, is shrewdly helping his nephew to survive and prosper. It is an astute metaphor for the need for modern human beings to adapt to changing circumstances.
In the TV series, though, Don Fabrizio first blesses the idea of Tancredi marrying his favorite daughter, and then not only does Tancredi seem to betray the family that has nurtured and protected him, but Don Fabrizio, as a modern husband and father who cares especially for Concetta, unaccountably does as well. There is no metaphor here, just confusion. This is made even more inexplicable later when, after the marriage has taken place, the Prince affirms that Tancredi would, in fact, have been a bad match for Concetta in that he “would have crushed her” due to their being “too different.” If that was his reasoning, it leaves the question of why he had supported a possible marriage of his daughter to his nephew in the first place and why he had not sought to assuage Concetta’s pain with this argument at the time.
Yet it is not only that the adaptation has strengthened these women vis-a-vis those in the book. It has also oddly weakened Don Fabrizio himself. Di Lampedusa surely did not name his hero the "Leopard" on a whim. And, unlike the lion, for instance, the leopard is a solitary creature. It is true that Don Fabrizio is rarely physically by himself. Yet, regarding his fundamental character, the Don Fabrizio of the novel is pretty much a closed book. Yet this new version has him as needy, overly emotional, and a man who declares, “I keep no secrets from my family.” The original Don Fabrizio is as unable as this new adaptation to alter events that are much greater than his. But his greatness is in recognizing this fact and maintaining his dignity in his aloofness. On the other hand, the Don Fabrizio of the series is supposedly stubborn and headstrong but proves merely to be the victim of events.
Another confusing element to Don Fabrizio is how he declares himself an outsider. To the notables of the newly established Kingdom of Italy, he proclaims that “I also belong to an unfortunate generation stuck between the old world and the new, unable to adapt to either of them.” That, having been raised as an aristocrat in an ancien regime society, he is “unable to adapt” to “the new” world that has been created in the whirlwind of revolution is entirely comprehensible. However, this does not explain why he could not adapt to the society in which he was raised.
As such, this Leopard is less than the one in the novel or that portrayed so manfully by Burt Lancaster. It is true that the cynical Leopard of the book occasionally appears in the series, questioning, for example, the meaning of life. The series is still well worth watching. However, its deviation from its source material harms it too much and prevents it, unlike the original novel or the 1963 film, from being a masterpiece of its genre.
Review 3 from 5.
