Having just proposed a new final year module on transnational television crime drama, I was eager to explore various streaming platforms to identify possible case studies to include in the course. This is how I stumbled upon Lidia Poët, the protagonist of one of Netflix’s latest shows, The Law According to Lidia Poët, released globally on 15 February 2022, shortly after the success of another Italian series, The Lying Lives of Adults, an adaptation of Elena Ferrante’s eponymous book. If we are to believe what is claimed in an article published in the online magazine Torino Today on February 23rd, The Law According to Lidia Poët is the third most watched Netflix show in a language other than English across fifty five countries. Yet, I knew nothing about this extraordinary woman who fought for the right of women to vote and for the right of women to practice law, so I decided to find out more.

The real Lidia Poët was born on 26 August 1855 in Traverse, a small hamlet not far from Pinerolo in Piedmont, an area renown for its mountains and outstanding national beauty. Despite comprising only 200 souls, the population of Traverse did not share the same religion: roughly fifty per cent were Catholic and the other half Waldensian, a protestant denomination founded in the 12 century and active in Italy and Switzerland. Lidia’s family belonged to the latter. For more than thirty years, Lidia’s father was the mayor of the village whilst her mother belonged to a wealthy family of land owners of a neighbouring village. Education was extremely important for Waldensians so, despite being the youngest of four, Lidia was allowed to study at a time when the rate of illiteracy was extremely high in Italy, particularly among women. Like many Waldensians girls, Lidia was sent to Switzerland, to a girl school where she studied languages and in 1874 she became a fully qualified teacher of French, German and English. However, Lidia wanted to go further and with the support of her mother and her brother Giovanni Enrico (a lawyer with his own private practice) in 1878 she started a degree in Law at the University of Turin (VSLP, 18-19). Until 1876 women had been excluded from university education (VSLP, 15). On 17 June 1881, Lidia graduated with top marks, with a dissertation arguing in favour of women being allowed to vote. Her main point was that the cause of women’s subalternity was not a matter of chemistry or genetics but of their lack of formal education (VSLP, 36-37). After two years of compulsory internship, she applied for, and passed, the exam that would enable her to practice as a lawyer. The decision to allow her to register as a practicing lawyer had not been unanimous and sparked a fierce debate among academics, politicians and intellectuals, attracting huge media attention, both in Italy and abroad. Apparently, the Englishwoman’s Review discussed her case in August 1883 and a month later the news had crossed the Atlantic. In September 1883 she was mentioned in the Chicago daily paper The Union Signal and in November in the Demorest’s Monthly Magazine (VLSP, 52). Sadly, on 14 November 1883, the Appeal Court in Turin issued a verdict declaring that women were not allowed to practice the law (VSLP, 78). The verdict was criticised in the press and Lidia continued fighting for her rights (VSLP, 88). However, it would take until 1919 for a law to be passed that would grant women the same rights of men to practice as lawyers (VSLP, 142). Lidia was 65 when she was finally officially able to work as a lawyer. She died on the 25 February 1949 after another of her battles, women’s right to vote, had been won (VSLP, 145). Over the years, Lidia had become a well-known and well-respected figure. She had friends and supporters belonging to all walks of life, including very prominent intellectuals and politicians like Edmondo De Amicis, the Agenlli family, Paul Veraine, Victor Hugo, and even the President of the French Republic, Felix Faure, and the Greek Prime Minister Eleutherios Venizelos. She was regularly invited to give talks at national and international conferences on law and anthropology. She did not marry and she did not have any children. She often travelled with her favourite niece, Anna Rostan (VSLP, 136).

Whilst admirable in its intentions, the Netlfix show is rather disappointing and attracted strong criticism from Lidia’s surviving relatives who felt that the portrayal of their ancestor was far from accurate. Apparently, the family had contacted the series’ director and offered their collaboration but to no avail. According to Daniela Tozzi, a descendant of Lidia’s father, Lidia’s family “was very religious, she was sober, and her family was not aware of any boyfriends. She did not swear and did not drink alcohol. The series does not show her true figure: her conferences, her pledge to women’s rights, female prisoners and abandoned children” (ibid., my translation). Despite my ignorance regarding the real Lidia, what struck me when I first watched the show, was the mismatch of certain elements. On the one hand I was presented with a period drama (the setting, the costumes and the caption at the start of the first episode suggesting that the story took place in Turin in 1883), on the other the main protagonist came across as far too modern for a 19th century young woman, not only in the way she behaved (she seemed very comfortable with her sexuality and had sexual relationships with two men at the same time), but also in the way she spoke, particularly to male members of her family, calling her brother “stronzo” [asshole] and using other common swearwords with a lightness more typical of a 21st century youth than of a 19th century polite young lady.

The show does not claim to be a biopic. The viewer is simply told that the series was inspired by a true story. However, the fact that the name of the real woman who inspired the story appears in the title raises expectations of higher historical accuracy, and this is where the series fails. References key historical events, like the introduction of the new penal code for the Kingdom of Italy get lost amongst the more soap-like elements of the shaw. It is clear that the “modernization” of the character(s) was a deliberate choice and not an oversight. This becomes obvious when we pay attention to the soundtrack which, as pointed out by one reviewer, “is full of modern rock riffs and dance beats.” This was possibly done to increase the appeal of the show amongst a younger audience and to stress how some of the issues affecting women in 19th century Italy, are still relevant in many parts of the world today (e.g. the pay gap between men and women in similar positions, which is what we see at the start of episode one when a lady askes to speak to Lidia because she charges less than a male lawyer, or the difficulties women encounter in being taken seriously in some profession). However, the outcome is disappointing and irritating. The jarring elements limit the value of what could have been an excellent opportunity to celebrate the life of an extraordinary woman, drawing attention to the challenges that women had to face historically whilst pointing out how the fight for equality is still ongoing. The show’s only saving grace is that it may encourage some viewers to find out more about the real Lidia Poët, a figure definitely worth investigating further…. and it could certainly make an interesting case study for my new module on Transnational Television Crime Drama.

[All the information on the real Lidia Poët comes from the following publication: Iannuzzi, I. and Tammaro, P. (2022). La vera storia di Lidia Poët. Milano: Lucerna Edizioni. Abbreviated as: VSLP.]

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