Brigitte Bardot, sporting a nun’s cap and a mesh bra that leaves little to the imagination, flashes a smile from the cover of Playmen. It is 1970, and the pages of Italy’s first erotic magazine are about to ignite a sexual and social revolution led by publisher Adelina Dattilo, whom Time dubbed “Hugh Hefner in a skirt”. This bold, visionary woman takes centre stage in Mrs Playmen, the new series directed by Riccardo Donna (Io sono Mia [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
fiche film], Questo piccolo grande amore [+lire aussi :
bande-annonce
fiche film]). Its first two episodes have bowed in Freestyle at the 20th Rome Film Fest, and the full seven-part season will stream on Netflix from 12 November.

Skirting the line between fact and fiction, the plot kicks off at the launch party for the issue featuring "Sister BB". We meet Adelina (Carolina Crescentini) and her husband Saro Balsamo (Francesco Colella), co-founders of the magazine. They have loved each other since they were kids, but Saro now has a mistress and hefty debts, and one day, he leaves on a trip abroad and vanishes. With the magazine’s books in the red, Adelina is forced to take the reins and decides to pivot the editorial line by putting female desire front and centre. She also starts featuring not only stars on the cover, but ordinary women, too – in this case, an unknown girl from the suburbs, Elsa (Francesca Colucci), of whom the magazine’s photographer, Luigi (Giuseppe Maggio), had taken some intimate shots that were meant to remain private.

Blinded by the fee on offer, Elsa signs a contract without reading it properly, and the publication of her nude photos lands her in trouble. To make amends, Adelina offers her a job at the magazine (edited by Chartroux/Filippo Nigro), a proposal the girl initially declines. Meanwhile, the vice squad (in which a policeman played by Domenico Diele serves) is looking for a pretext to shut down the magazine for obscenity, and feminists (led by Cecilia Dazzi) are up in arms because Playmen commodifies the female body. “We Italians have a problem with sex. Instead of relaxing us, it pisses us off,” Adelina says of yet another attack, despite her own Catholic background. In the fictional version, the newsroom of the era’s most risqué magazine (Playboy was banned in Italy) overlooks St Peter’s Basilica – the quintessential symbol of Christianity and tradition. From there, Dattilo will mount her fights for divorce, abortion rights and women’s emancipation.

In one of those curious cross-references that sometimes crop up at festivals, Mrs Playmen at one point touches on the scandalous photos of the Casati Stampa couple that surfaced after the brutal murder (read about the film inspired by that case here). Publishing that material would draw further criticism, yet also shore up the magazine’s finances. The compromise Adelina finds – running the pictures but also the backstory revealing that woman’s situation – makes clear the path the magazine will take.

The series’ writers imagined much of what swirled around Playmen, inventing characters and stories. The period reconstruction is glossy and caters to younger tastes, the soundtrack included; the 1970s are sparkling, colourful and upbeat. The glut of parallel narrative threads, in classic Netflix fashion, is evident in the first two episodes – perhaps greater focus on and fidelity to the facts would have made the whole thing more instructive.

Mrs Playmen was produced by Aurora TV, a company under the Ambra Banijay Italia group.