I have a thing for aristocrats. I like them. Born wealthy, with questionable morals and politics, and enjoying the good life, but always with a tinge of sadness, never regret. I’m thinking of Italians here, such as Luchino Visconti, so let me take this back a bit; I actually like aristocrats who are creative people. And it is not totally money, but more coming from a family that is educated and close to political and aesthetic power. Visconti is a real aristocrat, but there are also Italian individuals such as Pier Paolo Pasolini, Curzio Malaparte, filmmakers and opera director Franco Zeffirelli, Bernardo Bertolucci, and writer Gabriele D'Annunzio. All have the taste of the aristocrat, even though some flirted with Fascism, and even some were Marxists. Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, the Futurist, seemed to be an aristocrat born into a wealthy family but not from the aristocratic class. So, it is a matter of attitude, if nothing else.
I would like them less if an aristocrat was or is poor. The wealth issue distances that person (the aristocrat) from the rest of civilization. They may join another class, but one can never forget or leave their class. Another class-conscious culture is Japan, and many of its writers are from wealthy families, such as Yukio Mishima and Osamu Dazai. There is a thin thread between the aristocratic cultures of Italy and Japan, and one can think of D’Annunzio as the Italian side of Mishima. Nevertheless, writers write about their wealth landscape or comment on other classes and how that reflects on their world. Pasolini wasn’t born rich, but he was a man of great sophistication, and he had a journalistic eye on the world around him, but it is that distance makes his work lively and informative.
Malaparte built his home in 1937, an architectural wonder by the architect Adalberto Libera. Although not part of the aristocratic society, he was born into a wealthy family and became a writer, filmmaker, and journalist. He wrote two autobiographical novels, Kaputt and The Skin. The books got him in hot water with Mussolini, and he was under house arrest, so he got to hang out at his magnificent home on the island of Capri. If you have seen or read about Malaparte Casa, you know it’s aristocratic. It takes hours by foot to reach the house, and once at the premises, one has to walk ninety-nine steps. One can get there by the sea, but the tide is rough for boats, so even that is a struggle. The fact that it’s impossible makes it a total aristocratic practice. I strongly recommend reading Malaparte’s books because one gets an insider’s view of the Fascists and the SS hierarchy during the war.
Falling in love with or having a sexual fixation on an aristocrat is probably not a good idea. The aristocrats are faithful to ideas but not to people, although they show concern for the other class. It is almost a fashionable statement or approach. The reflection of a mirror and how they see themselves are more important than how someone else sees them. I share those traits myself.
Senso, a novella by the Italian writer Camillo Boito, and the superb film by Visconti take place during the third Italian War of Independence between Italy and Austria. An Italian countess falls for an Austrian lieutenant, already a no-no, but the Austrian is also a scoundrel and coward. The aristocrat falls in love with a soldier or is obsessed with the image of such a person and is destroyed by the reality of their affair. Perhaps a common problem for the aristocrat?
What a cool take on those louche, rich, cultivated and talented Italians. Pasolini epitomizes the extremes of the genre - loved and demonized during his lifetime. Check out Abel Ferrara’s 2014 film, Pasolini starring Willem Dafoe, an uncanny resemblance. Atheist, Marxist, homosexual, loathed by the Church and persecuted by the government, none the less, 120,000 people lined the streets in Milan for his funeral. Such is the power of words. Another must see is his last film, Salo, but be prepared for a trip to hell.