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a part of the history of the motion pictures : Cabiria, produced and directed by Giovanni di Pastrone, whose professional name was Piero Fosco. Filmed on a scale even surpassing Quo Vadis ?, this fundamental work of the early Italian cinema was replete with technical innovations which were subsequently to be adapted by D.W. Griffith in his Intolerance. With Cabiria a film still discussed for its style, originality and unity, Italy had made an important contribution to the new art of the film. Its cast included Italia Almirante, Umberto Mazzato, Raffaele di Napoli, Lydia Quaranta, Ignazio Lupi and, of course, Bartolomeo Pagano, the dock-worker from Genoa, whose role of Maciste is identified with this famous film.
We find Cines, some time thereafter, undertaking a « poem » by Fausto Salvatori called Christus (Christ) — «a colossal work in five acts ...the latest unforgettable masterpiece... in six thousand feet », as it was glowingly described — directed by Count Giulio Antomoro. Redolent with the era of ancient Egypt, Christus was a big success.
A brief note about the accompanying music to films at this time reveals that already original scores were being written for certain films, such as Brunetti's score for The Slave of Carthage, Mario Costa's for L'Histoire d'un Pierrot (The Story of Pierrot), Pizzetti's « Fire Symphony", written for Frate Sole (Brother Sun). Even Mascagni wrote film music, one of his early works in that genre being a « Satanic Rhapsody. » To an ever growing degree, film music was no longer left to the choice of pianists and small ensembles, but became an integral part of the presentation of the films.
The outbreak of the war did not at first halt work in the studios. Febo Mari played Attila in Attila, Flagello di Dio (Attila, Scourge of God), in which the titles were in verse. Arrigo Frusta directed for Ambrosio an adaptation of Gerolamo Rovetta's drama, Romanticismo (Romanticism), in which Tullio Carminati, dishevelled, suave and determined, appeared as Count Lamberti. Memorable were the scenes shot at Lake Como with Carminati declaiming to cloaked conspirators ! There was also Vol d'Olivi (Vale of Olives), with Garibaldi on horseback; San Martino (St. Martin), and another success by Guazzoni in 1916, Madame T allien.
So much, for the moment, for the costume film. There was also the filmed drama of passion.
The hold of D'Annunzio on the cinema, not the D'Annunzio of the tragic poems, but of Intermezzo di rime and the novels, was tyrannical. The middle-class Italian film of a considerably later era, with its trysts on the Pincio, its cruel loves and furious embraces, its exquisite interiors and aristocratic entertainments, was blood-cousin to such social chronicles as Duke Minio, or the gallantries of Piacere (Pleasure). This was the Rome of magnificent esthetes and shameless coquettes, the cinema of the lover in monocle and top hat.
Gabriele D'Annunzio's original work for the cinema was, however, practically non-existent, and it is difficult to try to explain the connection between the D'Annunzio «word» and the D'Annunzio « image », between D'Annunzio theatre and screen. The poet had, in fact, no real love for the cinema. He understood the secret of the new language but never developed for it an attentive or passionate curiosity. He saw very few films, was indifferent to the production of Cabiria (even though it was to carry his name), and laughed at Leda senza cigno (Leda Without Swan). But the bourgeoise Italian cinema was still in the D'Annunzio manner, from the era of L'innocente to Ma I'amore mio non muore (But My Love Won't Die). Even adapta