Igor Bezinović’s documentary, “Fiume O Morte!,” could be cited as an example of how truth is stranger than fiction if cinematic fiction hadn’t already tread upon similar territory. Not a few observers have cited Henry Cornelius’s “Passport to Pimlico” (1949) as a precedent, a charming comedy about, of all things, colonialism. In it, a raft of tut-tutting eccentrics claim their London neighborhood as part of the House of Burgundy and, as such, a sovereign state independent of Her Majesty’s government. T.E.B. Clarke, the screenwriter of “Passport to Pimlico,” based the plot on a news story of how an Ottawa hospital was temporarily declared Dutch territory when one of its patients, Princess Juliana of the Netherlands, was about to give birth. A child’s right to the throne must be safeguarded, but what about the wiles of a poet?Gabriele D’Annunzio (1863-1938) is a curious figure in the annals of Italian culture. Born in privileged circumstances, young Gabriele exhibited a flair for the written word and published his first book of poetry while in his teens. That tome, “Primo Vere,” was lauded by critics, and D’Annunzio’s silky brand of aestheticism earned comparisons to Oscar Wilde. He famously had an eye for the ladies, and went on to conduct flagrant affairs with some high-profile women. The writing continued apace.That is, when he wasn’t caught up in the political headwinds of early 20th-century Europe. Toward the beginning of “Fiume O Morte!,” Mr. Bezinović does man-on-the-street interviews with contemporary passersby on a commercial thoroughfare in the Croatian city of Rijeka. Might they be familiar, he asks, with Gabriele D’Annunzio? Most of the citizens, young and old, haven’t a clue, until a skateboarder identifies him as “a famous Italian.”The director manages to locate additional souls who are familiar with D’Annunzio, including a grey-haired gent who responds to the question with “Naturally, damn it, everyone knows that. He said that he was a fascist . . . but also a good writer, a poet, a great lover.” Another shopper describes D’Annunzio as brutish and gentle, all the while calling into question his mental health. Mr. Bezinović hits pay dirt with one Izet Medošević, who is a veritable font of knowledge, even claiming that D’Annunzio had the magnetism to compel lesbians to change their ways and fall in love with him.We later see Mr. Medošević, among others, portraying the self-styled Commandante of Carnaro in what turns out to be a riotously amusing documentary about a bizarre confluence of politics, poetry and unremitting hubris. D’Annunzio, you see, wasn’t pleased with the partitioning that took place after the first World War. He was particularly aggrieved when the city of Fiume, with its significant Italian population, was made part of what was then known as the Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats and Slovenes. What’s a proud litterateur to do but claim this parcel of land for the greater good of Italia?D’Annunzio had the blessing of his pal Benito Mussolini in this endeavor, but the standing Italian government wanted no part of this nonsense. Shepherding thousands of soldiers to claim Fiume as his own protectorate, D’Annunzio installed like-minded cronies to bolster his agenda. The results were well, let’s just say that state charter reads as if it were written by Monty Python’s Flying Circus. The poet continued in his delusions even as bodies started falling. Mr. Medošević matches the absurdity of D’Annunzio’s short-lived venture with a disjunctive approach to film-making that, though flippant and somewhat annoying, is, in the end, deeply humane. Combining archival footage with deadpan (and patently ridiculous) re-enactments of historical episodes, the director proves that sardonicism and objectivity are not only mutually compatible, but sometimes inseparable. “Fiume O Morte!” is a sleeper, a stunner, and great fun.
