An exhibition of orcs and elves makes Rome buzz and bewilder
On the opening night of Rome’s most talked-about new exhibition this week, top ministers in sharp suits rubbed shoulders with Roman socialites in fur coats, and eccentric art lovers rubbed shoulders with members of far-right youth groups.
They all pondered a drawing of a glamorous Gandalf in a form-fitting wizard’s cloak, acrylic armies of orcs, and other fan artwork displayed in gilded frames. On one wall they studied a family tree of elves, men, and dwarves; on another, a glossary explaining the key players of Middle-earth (“Hobbits are a unique and distinctive people known as Halflings.”) They stepped over an interactive map on the floor showing Frodo and his companions on a floating green dish can be seen.
Some were enthusiastic, others bewildered. But if there was any doubt why the Italian Ministry of Culture had organized a major retrospective dedicated to the life, academic career and literary works of JRR Tolkien, the British author of ‘The Lord of the Rings’, at the National Gallery of Modern and Contemporary Art, a large space usually dedicated to modernist masters, and why everyone seemingly just had to be there, one superfan had the answer.
“I really liked the exhibition,” said Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni after her personal tour of “Tolkien: Man, Professor, Author.” “As a person who knows the issue quite well, I have discovered many things I did not know.”
Most people know Tolkien’s books as bedtime stories or fantasy epics. But for Ms. Meloni and others who grew up in a post-fascist universe that couldn’t publicly look to Italy’s recent past for heroes, Tolkien’s adventures — stories of warriors, invading armies and ordinary people defending their homelands — provided a safe space to articulate their worldview . They dressed with character. They sang along with the extremist folk band Fellowship of the Ring at jamborees of right-wing youth called Camp Hobbit.
As Ms. Meloni, 46, has moved from the political margins of her youth to the center of Italian political life, that esoteric subculture has followed her to the Italian temples of high art. At a meeting of the prime minister’s party leaders this summer, Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano called the show a “gift.” He has said that Tolkien was an important literary figure who deserved a big show to mark the 50th anniversary of his death. Ms. Meloni’s critics have instead characterized the exhibition, which she called “a beautiful page of culture,” as a right-wing counteroffensive in the country’s culture wars.
Shortly after she left the museum, visitors entered her fantasy land. Adjacent to a permanent collection of Italian masterpieces, the exhibition displayed Tolkien’s private letters and possessions, along with archival photographs of him smoking his pipe and wearing tweed suits as a professor at Oxford, and posing in a monastery on holiday in Italy.
A collection of hobbit-themed music was displayed behind glass cases, including Leonard Nimoy’s ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins”, a “Lord of the Rings” pinball machine, posters from the films, stills and sketches from the cartoons, and hobbit sculptures.
Robed clergy compared their hoods to the costumes on display.
“It’s special,” said Paola Comin, a veteran of the Italian film industry, who wore a white fur coat.
She walked past Maurizio Gasparri, a former minister and right-wing ally of Ms. Meloni, who was eager to demonstrate his deep “Lord of the Rings” knowledge.
“Ask around who knows the names of the nine companions of the ring, see who answers,” he said, naming all nine. He added that when it came to Tolkien, “the right chose him as their favorite author.”
The show was intended to convey that tradition, said members of the youth wing of Meloni’s far-right Brothers of Italy party, who were also there.
“It’s a legacy,” said Andrea Paramano, a 21-year-old member, as he stood with his friends around models of the Shire and had epic battles with Balrog, the fire monster. “It is passed on. Respect for tradition ——”
“The courage,” interjected Gabriele Rosa, also 21 and a fellow member, although he said young activists preferred to read about real heroes of the post-fascist movement, who became martyrs during the domestic terrorism of the 1970s. “Till death.”
The evening was in many ways owned by the Minister of Culture, Mr Sangiuliano, a former right-wing journalist, who guided his colleagues through the exhibition. He marched with the confidence of a man who had absolute power over the fate of some of the country’s museum directors, including the art historian who heads the museum where the exhibition was staged and whose term of office is soon to end.
At a news conference announcing the exhibition earlier this month, Mr. Sangiuliano insisted that Ms. Meloni had not ordered the show, and responded to a question about the right wing’s love of “The Lord of the Rings” by talking about the ignorance of journalists, the Indo-European roots of the word ‘conservatism’, the symbolism of fire, the innovations of Ronald Reagan and Winston Churchill, and the anti-colonialism of Charles de Gaulle.
“And Frodo?” a reporter asked.
At the museum he continued to insist that there was nothing biased about the exhibition. He pointed to a wall of texts from fans of the writer, including Ringo Starr, Nicolas Cage and Barack Obama, who a ministry spokesman insisted was a “Tolkienian.”
In the exhibit, Mr. Obama was quoted as saying that he had gone from the Hardy Boys to “The Lord of the Rings” and “The Hobbit” and things like that, and that they were “not just adventure stories, but were also stories that taught me about social problems.”
(The correct quote, by Mr. Obama from an interview with children’s reporters from Scholastic News, notes that when he was about 13 years old, he started reading “more serious books,” such as “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “that make you think a little more. They weren’t just adventure stories, but they were also, you know, stories that taught me about social problems.”)
“All Tolkien readers,” Mr. Sangiuliano said proudly during the show. Then he saw another Tolkien enthusiast, Francesco Lollobrigida, Ms. Meloni’s brother-in-law and the far-right Agriculture Minister. He showed him the fan art and on the stairs the two stopped to read an excerpt from Tolkien’s short story ‘Leaf by Niggle’.
Davide Martini, the curator and owner of the exhibition’s fan art, was perplexed as he watched all the attention surrounding the politicians. A proud metalhead, he said he grew up in a room with walls covered in Tolkien calendars and the works of Frank Frazetta, often called the godfather of fantasy art.
Mr. Martini was thrilled that the works he loved, of mythical battles and ghosts, had finally been recognized as great art. The political overlay, he said, was “just an Italian problem.”
Other fantasy enthusiasts agreed. “I don’t understand why it’s being demonized here,” said Mattia Moruzzi, who lent a “Lord of the Rings” movie poster signed by cast members to the exhibit.
He wore a Lord of the Rings style ring on a chain around his neck. His girlfriend, with whom he lived in Bologna in a deconsecrated church full of memorabilia, wore an Elfen Evenstar pendant in her décolleté. The show, he said, was a turning point. “It is legitimized.”
In fact, Wednesday evening it seemed to be a mandatory viewing. At the end of the evening, the country’s powerful economy minister, Giancarlo Giorgetti, was given a personal tour by Mr. Sangiuliano, who, after Mr. Giorgetti stopped to play pinball, insisted that they take a photo in front of one from behind illuminated drawing of archers.
“I always work with very real things, like money,” Mr. Giorgetti said as he left. “This is a dive into the imagination.”
But in Ms. Meloni’s Italy, the exhibition was also very real.
As the last minister left and the right-wing youth greeted each other with ancient Roman forearm handshakes, museum director Cristiana Collu nervously asked a colleague how the evening went. He assured her that things were going well.
When asked by a reporter which exhibition previously occupied the space, the museum employee paused.
“Picasso,” he said.