TIFF 09: VIDEOCRACY Review

It has often been said that we're living in a digital age and that those who control the media control the public. It's such a common sentiment that most western nations have entrenched controls guaranteeing a free press into their legal structure with most assuming that these safeguards protect us all. But this is not true everywhere. It's not even true in all of the western world. And nowhere is it less true than in Italy, where president Silvio Berlusconi not only rules the country but also - if the figures in Erik Gandini's Videocracy are accurate - a shocking ninety percent of its television. And while Gandini must have been tempted to use Videocracy as an endictment of Berlusconi himself, he actually aims for something a little more far reaching and ultimately disturbing - a close examination of the media culture that has allowed Berlusconi to happen and the consequences it has had on the Italian populace.

Gandini approaches his topic - the control of the populace via media - from a number of fronts. He features a young man dreaming of instant stardom, a parade of girls hoping to be selected as television models, Berlusconi's neighbour who has created a cottage industry for herself by taking and selling photos from within his exclusive parties, a powerful paparazzi who makes his living not by selling compromising photos to the press but back to the stars, and the man who is arguably the most powerful talent agent in the nation. And what does power bring you? Personal friendship with the President, an all-white house and wardrobe and a collection of Benito Mussolini's Fascist hymns waiting to be played and enjoyed at any time.

As shocking as it is that central image of Fascism is one that lingers throughout the entire picture, the sense that those who can, will. The manipulation is shameless starting with the cadre of nubile women kept of television purely to titilate and keep the male audience watching through to the campaign ads featuring a horde of woman - with nary a man in sight - singing songs thanking God for Berlusconi. It's crass, it's obvious and - shockingly - it works.

Gandini's film is documentary as essay, the entire thing existing to lay out a powerfully presented thesis. It makes for riveting viewing, at times bizarre at other times horrifying but always impossible to turn away from. The access he has gained at the highest levels is perplexing and explainable only by the fact that these people are far from being ashamed of their accomplishments and methodology. They are proud of them and proud of themselves. And that's the most shocking part of all.