Bernardo Bertolucci's The Conformist, released in 1970, is a film I have returned to repeatedly over the years with much admiration. The source material, a novel of the same name by Alberto Moravia, sat unread on my bookshelf for years – until now. It is a cool, clinical look at a man who knows himself to be different (as a child he exhibited cruelty to animals and shot a man who tried to molest him) and makes the decision, but more importantly takes actions, to conform. This leads to a monstrous betrayal, but it's all in a day's work for Marcello Clerici – a fascist when fascists are in charge, then suddenly an anti-fascist when Mussolini is removed. Though he does not preach about the dangers of a mass mindset, Moravia excavates the rotten, empty individual soul that makes all such movements possible.
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