"Virtually everyone
who has written about Maciste agrees that his strength, energy and vitality are
meant and were understood at the time, as a nationalist allegory for Italy and
a nation coming into its own…” Robert A. Rushing, Descended from Hercules: Biopolitics and the Muscled Male Body on
Screen
After the epic Eagle of France, the Lion of Italy who
turns out to be something of a pussycat or a least a Top Cat with a smile almost
as broad as his chest and a twinkle in his eye signalling fun more than
anything else.
It was time for some swords and sandals and some pumped
up adventure at the Bioscope and a reminder of the simple joys of silent
adventures into past. Maciste had originally appeared in Cabiria played by the mighty Bartolomeo Pagano as a black slave but
he was brought back as a modern Italian through the meta-textural route of
a woman phoning the actor's agent in Maciste
(1915) after having seen him in Cabiria.
Pulled, impossibly, from the past, Maciste was a
character from a simpler age engaging with a modernity that was changing Italy
more quickly than some might like. Then as now people were attracted to the
simple solutions born of strength rather than obscure strategies: a one-man “squadrismo”
being a more effective solution for problems than debate with experts or
establishment…
Bartolomeo Pagano throwing fellow cast members around in an earlier film |
Maciste was a phenomenon that spanned Italian cinema’s
early golden age, its commercial false dawn (371 films were made in 1920 and
just 8 in 1930 according to Jacqueline Reich in The Maciste Films of Italian
Silent Cinema) through to the 1960s and two films from the notorious Jess
Franco in 1973 – one of which was, of course, The Erotic Exploits of Maciste in Atlantis.
Its original star was a former Genovese dockworker was
either the winner of a competition to appear as the strongman in Cabiria or had been talent-spotted by
actor Dominic Gambino. Either way he went down a storm and Maciste Innamorato was his eight outing. It represented a real
departure as this was apparently the first time the character had ever fallen
for a member of the opposite sex which is surprising as he is Italy more than he’s an Italian?
The woman in question is the worryingly petite Ada
Thompson (the lovely Linda Moglia who was so good in Cyrano de Bergerac) who is in conference with several other
bright young things on her father’s terrace when they notice a Maciste film
being made. Excited by the movie star in their midst she insists on inviting
him to dinner and dad (Orlando Ricci) is only too happy to oblige.
It’s not just the women who flock to admire Maciste, he
carries two of the young men, one on each arm, up the steps and all are excited
to see how his physical exuberance will express itself over dinner – how big a
plate will he actually need.
But as the elite entertain themselves, the
disenfranchised are being secretly up by Thompson’s min competitor who is
encouraging them to strike with the aid of three employees he has bribed. These
men, the wonderfully named Sherlock, Job and Bile are superb creations craven
cowards who will prove very useful a throwing implements as the story unfolds.
The strikers advance on the Thompson mansion and start
smashing windows. Boss-man Thompson bravely faces them down but it’s only when
his super-strengthened new friend wades in that they initially retreat with one
man held aloft by a pole Maciste casually drops when the agitators become film
fans and start back for his autograph. Ah, the power of celebrity to sooth even
syndicalist passions.
Maciste persuades the striking workers... |
But even this new intervention won’t stop the baddies and
they kidnap Ada in an attempt to blackmail Thompson into selling his business
ridiculously cheap. He’s tough and his new pal is even tougher and the
fightback begins with extraordinary round after round of capture, fight, flight
and re-capture as Maciste runs rings around the hapless baddies who’s only
advantage is numbers.
Call me cruel but I did especially enjoy his use of Bile
or was it Job, as a human battering ram or when he casually flung Sherlock over
his shoulder: in those days of high-quality good-guys it was tough work being a
henchman.
Directed by Luigi Romano Borgnetto it’s all done
remarkably well and the pace is mostly maintained throughout. It’s a feel-good
movie, a Fit Club and a world in which might is not just right it’s funny too:
Maciste is a winner in almost all things…
Some impressive framing from Borgnetto |
Meg Morley accompanied and perfectly matched Maciste with
musical muscle that flowed easily from covering his table-turning machismo to
his more heart-felt moments: even the strongest man in the world can have his
heart broken. Meg was there for him.
Before the main feature we were treated to a
lovely-looking L'esclave de Phidias
(1917) directed by Léonce Perret. This film featured many wonderful set-pieces
from maidens mournful in summer gardens to heroes anguished on rugged
coastlines. Based in ancient Greece this was a tale of forbidden love and
over-vigorous revenge as sculptor Phidias (Luitz-Morat) falls for his model
Callyce (Suzanne Delvé) and cruelly dumps his courtisane Quinta (Madeleine
Ramey).
Quinta frames her former man, arranges for Callyce to be
flogged and lives it up in transgressive all-comers style as he is exiled. The
lovers have the lasting love though as they are joined in loving exile against
sparkling Aegean seas.
Luitz-Morat and Suzanne Delvé |
John Sweeney accompanied for this film and I could have
sworn he was wearing a toga… or at least sandals.
There can never be enough films about the ancient world
and those Greeks with their quaint notions of democracy before a fall.
Both films were projected on 35mm on prints supplied by
the BFI: a real treat.
Very cool that you were able to see this! The Maciste films that I've seen have been a lot of fun. If you haven't seen Maciste in Hell it's well worth seeking out!
ReplyDeleteIt's great fun and Pagano has such a likeable presence! I haven't seen in Hell yet but I hear tyhere's a good copy on the 'Tube? There can never be enough Italian silent films! P
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