Miss Italia Mustn’t Die (now on Netflix) tackles a thorny topic that’s at the intersection of numerous political and social conflicts: beauty standards. Specifically, it’s explored via the evolution of Miss Italia, the beauty pageant that’s been a cultural staple of Italy for 85 years. Documentary filmmakers Pietro Daviddi and David Gallerano follow the pageant’s director, Patrizia Mirigliani, as she navigates a personal and professional minefield in order to stage the 2023 event – and the ordeal finds her wrestling with tradition and change, and facing internal and external conflicts. Point blank, this is a fascinating can-of-worms documentary.
The Gist: Miss Italia is in crisis. Patrizia Mirigliani sits in front of her array of agents – scouts who recruit talent for regional pageants that winnow down contestants for the big final shebang – and tells them the event needs to change. The sensibilities of the outside world have progressed, and Miss Italia has not. It seems the event has been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century, a time for evolving (read: broadening) standards and criteria for feminine beauty. In recent years, the event succumbed to public pressure and ditched the bikinis, but that didn’t help its overall standing, as RAI, Italy’s juggernaut public broadcaster, chose not to put Miss Italia on TV in 2022, forcing it to be streamed on – gasp – YouTube and Facebook. Things are looking, if not quite dire yet, then at least not great, Bob.
And here’s Patrizia, staring down the barrel of what? Obsolescence? Miss Italia is her family’s business, and in 2010 she inherited the director position from its founder, her father, “pageant boss” and host Enzo Mirigliani. “Everything changed” when that happened, she says. Are advancing social mores the culprit? Or maybe it’s harder for a woman to be the public face of the extravaganza? Hard to tell. Probably both. On one side of the pincer is tradition, the notion that Miss Italia has been a beloved celebration of feminine beauty for decades. On the other side are its vocal critics, who snipe at organizers for objectifying women and perpetuating impossible standards for that beauty. Patrizia calls those critics “dreadful feminists” and laments that they’ve infiltrated positions of political power in Italy and have used their influence to nudge Miss Italia off national television. Meanwhile, her longtime male agents – e.g., Gerry Stefanelli, best described as a graying old sexist fart – bemoan how they can no longer judge young contestants by the size of their ears or the width of their hips. Patrizia hears it from all sides.
But one gets the sense that Patrizia is stung by the truth her critics wield. And at the same time, she’s been close to Gerry and the rest of the staffers for so long, they’re like family. Her attempts to compromise give her hope that RAI will air the pageant in 2023, a dramatic will-they/won’t-the hingepoint for the documentary. Whether that compromise is enough? Um, to watch Gerry and some of the agents work, it doesn’t seem like it – he’s still a bit too focused on the body parts of women one-third his age, and his sensibilities are so egregious, it justifies something as gross as the good ol’ social-media pile-on: “half-naked kids judged by dirty old pigs,” reads one Tweet that you can’t really argue with. Patrizia doesn’t help the matter when she publicly comments that trans women aren’t allowed in Miss Italia, a major ethical and PR blunder that she half-heartedly tries to walk back.
Patrizia’s perspective is informed by her personal story. She kinda babies her adult son Nicola, a wannabe actor who lays around and seems to have some maturity issues, and dates a woman who was a fan of his from when he was on Big Brother. For years Patrizia was a stay-at-home mom in a bad marriage; she got divorced and worked for her father at Miss Italia in various capacities before taking over. She battled breast cancer – notably a uniquely feminine challenge – and after enduring months of chemotherapy, she now calls herself a “survivor.” The documentary sets up a parallel narrative of sorts to Patrizia via Aurora, a prospective Miss Italia contestant who aims to cause a stir by not being the typical tall, slender, long-haired young woman with a pasted-on smile and forced air of confidence. Her hair is short, she prefers boyish clothing, and she insists that she’s feminine by her own definition – a point of contention in arguments with her parents about traditional beauty standards. Aurora says she doesn’t care about looking conventionally “beautiful” for the pageant, but agrees to wear makeup and dresses, all in the service of making a nice, sharp point. She also wants to win.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Remind me – did Miss Congeniality win purely on her looks or her, you know, congeniality?
Performance Worth Watching: Aurora is a complicated, unassumingly inspiring figure in this documentary, simply by being herself.
Memorable Dialogue: Two lines delivered in different scenes, although one directly answers the other:
“Tall girls and bombshells – they never go out of fashion.” – one of the Miss Italia agents
“Miss Italia needs to change.” – Aurora
Sex and Skin: None, although some of the contestants’ outfits are a tad skimpy.
Our Take: Miss Italia Mustn’t Die is the current sociopolitical moment in microcosm: Progressives butting heads with conservatives over a hot-button issue that’s being amplified on social media and influencing traditional media’s decisions about what to put on the air. Wisely, the film avoids talking-head interviews, and is more fly-on-the-wall observational. It lets the chips fall where they may, and really doesn’t push the audience toward one point-of-view or the other – although to my ear, it seems wise not to side with the aging creeps who tell contestants to “cover up that bruise on your butt” while not holding themselves to the same standards, and therefore failing to notice their hypocrisy. Sometimes, treasured traditions are just gross and corrupt and need to be reevaluated, feelings be damned.
It’s clear that Miss Italia is a hot potato that Patrizia just doesn’t know how to handle – her traditionalism is clearly at odds with her identity. Her father created this thing, and she doesn’t want to see it destroyed or radically altered, and it’s likely she’d keep Miss Italia as it is if the criticism ever died down. But it likely won’t go away, and as the camera intently studies her, following her as she lives a luxurious life of massages and pedicures and chauffeurs, we try to read her face: Is she paralyzed into inaction, or are the gears turning in there a bit? One gets the sense that she knows what to do but lacks the courage to upset the applecart.
If she spent time with Aurora, Patrizia might have more of a clue. Aurora is similarly conflicted – she wisely understands that the “objectification” criticism is in the eye of the beholder, that people “with malice in their hearts” are capable of objectifying anything. This is the argument for other controversial topics like pornography or sex work, as long as it’s consenting; nobody’s forcing Aurora to parade her unconventional sensibilities in front of people. Why does she do it? To show pride in herself and who she is. There’s a delightful moment where Aurora bonds in a hotel room with other pageant contestants, all friends who respect each other for who they are, and competition seems to be the furthest thing from their minds. If Patrizia was privy to this moment of supportive friendship, she might be inspired to revitalize Miss Italia for the modern age.
And the truth is, change is going to happen whether Patrizia wants it or not. One of her beloved agents dies, a glaringly literal example of a harsh truth: As the older generation dies, its moral sensibilities are bound to be replaced by the next. There’s a discussion with Patrizia about the “heir” to Miss Italia, followed by multiple amusing scenes capturing her wayward son Nicola in various states of noncommitment to, well, pretty much anything – and she’s pragmatic about his capabilities. As the film follows the Miss Italia competition through months’ worth of regionals and semifinals and all that, Patrizia ends up surprising us in both good and bad ways. If she were wise, she’d see a potential heir walking the runway in front of her, bucking the trend and unafraid to be her own flawed self: Aurora.
Our Call: Miss Italia Mustn’t Die is a smart, insightful documentary that examines a variety of hot-button issues with concision and curiosity. STREAM IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.