Snippets of random silent film reels dance across the screen, transporting us to the earliest days of Italian cinema. Without any original soundtracks, the fragments are interspersed with original writings and quotes from notable figures who witnessed the rise of the artform, displayed as poetic text on screen or narrated by Isabella Rossellini. Less a documentary than a richly rewarding tapestry of long-forgotten works, the film artfully resurrects and reveals Italy’s first three decades of cinematic explorations.
Buy Italia: Fire and AshesBeginning in 1896, silent black and white films were produced in Italy, typically just scenes of everyday occurrences used to expose the public to the emerging technology. Crowds gathered to watch the brief reels, sometimes being treated to encores consisting of the films being played in reverse for laughs. From these humble beginnings, creative artists began experimenting with content and form, with one reel showing hand-tinted objects as early as the beginning of the 1900s.
We see the first attempts at fiction beginning in 1906, as well as incredible true-life footage such as peasants living in actual straw huts and a shepherd casually steering a massive flock by an abandoned ancient structure similar to the Parthenon. Visions of Hell are a recurring theme in the fictional films, with one work being particularly inventive and extraordinarily uncensored. Special effects are developed, including surprisingly sophisticated stop-motion animation, while hand-tinting experiments continue to bring occasional flashes of color to the screens.
The industry began to give birth to stars in the 1910s, including a Buster Keaton doppelganger named Emilio Ghione who emanates charisma from his earliest appearances. While Ghione is an obviously trained thespian, the industry gave rise to an accidental star named Maciste, a burly dock worker notable for his imposing form who went on to star in 30 films. His fortunate debut occurred in the hugely popular and influential Cabiria (1916), notable for its eye-popping effects and first-ever use of a tracking shot in Italian cinema.
The development of the artform coincided with monumental events including World War I and the rise of Mussolini, with the dictator featured in newsreels beginning in 1926. Even a century later, it’s harrowing to see the battlefield footage, wartime skies filled with zeppelins, and the unstoppable march of Mussolini’s fascism. Then as now, the cinema offered fictional respite from traumatic reality, but also documented actual atrocities for all time.
The reels have been restored, but vary in condition, with a few heartbreaking examples of severe nitrate degradation. We learn that most of Italy’s 10,000 silent films were destroyed by the Nazis during WWII, with the remaining material rescued from random cinemas and homes in the aftermath of the war. Clips are presented in chronological order, but are lacking context, with no unifying themes and little descriptive narration. While there’s much to glean about the roots of Italian cinema here, including its prominent players and highly inventive effects, the film’s dreamy structure and artsy quotes make it more a meditative experience that washes over viewers than a pointedly educational documentary.
