Dulce et Decorum Est

A century ago, the Eternal City’s Latin teachers liked to joke that Virgil had dubbed the Tiber a “lovely, blonde river,” (and here, clearing their throats, they would spout Latin verse as only those who basically spoke an updated version of Latin – let us call it Latin 2.0 – could do: “hunc inter fluvio Tiberinus amoeno verticibus rapidis et multa flavus harena in mare prorumpit”). Then came the punchline, “blonde, perhaps, but certainly dirty blonde.” In that sly, irreverent, iconoclastic wisecrackery we see the Roman spirit simultaneously at its best, and perhaps, worst: live for too long amidst the ruins of a great empire, and you start to take it for granted. Stroll past the towering rotunda of Hadrian’s Mausoleum (now Castel Sant’Angelo) and the immense, overwrought Palace of Justice, known to Romans as “er Palazzaccio,” roughly, “that palatial eyesore,” and you might never notice the 1925 building of the Association of War Invalids and Amputees, designed by the great Rationalist architect Marcello Piacentini and embellished with artworks by Sironi, Wildt, Martinuzzi, and Santagata. These impressive names contributed to the project’s underlying ethos of power and austerity. A clear appreciation of this often-overlooked masterpiece is offered here through Massimo Listri’s charismatic camerawork and Giorgio Villani’s pellucid prose.