M. Il figlio del secolo

By now it is evident that in the Post-network era and when from the zenith the third Golden Age of Television began its inevitable downward parabola no one, including myself, would have expected such a product... especially an Italian one.

M the son of the century is the classic turn of the century, the breaktrough event or, if you like a film allegory better: it is the hero we need but do not deserve. The future of Our television, it is clear, blatant and unashamed that it will be defined by the 'Before M' and the 'After M'.

Beautiful, beautiful series. Monumental every performance. Ficcanti every dialogue. Generative storytelling from history and brought up to date, without ever becoming exhibitionist. A series one step away from hybris without ever crossing the thin line and, because of this, incredibly verisimilitude in its (deliberate) staging between the theatrical and magical realism.

A possible event, because there is a thick book behind it, not only of volume but also of historical research... but also (oh my God, finally!!!) an adequate budget. It matters little that some images are realistically dated in the staging. It doesn't matter. You want the real date? There's the book but in this instalment it was perfectly there.

A futurist Zang Tumb Tumb series like we've needed for a long time. Because, just like futurism, the last true and pure current of thought and artistic movement that since the publication of its manifesto in 1909 has not found to date a worthy new cultural vision that can be described as truly original and not a rinsing of dishes from other shores. This is M. The first of something else in the making that, los peri pernos, will be even more surprising and innovative.

Zang Tumb Tumb.