‘My beloved dove, climb unto the cart of Tanit and carry to her the sadness of my secret heart.’
A young child is caught up in the war between Rome and Carthage and, as the years pass, her fate is inextricably linked to the outcome of the brutal conflict…
Cinema’s first epic drama, produced and directed by Giovanni Pastrone. He also co-wrote the screenplay with Gabriele D’Annunzio, and between them, they created the character of strongman Maciste, who became more popular in Italy than the mythical Hercules.
When Mount Etna erupts, the young child Cabiria (Carolina Catena) is separated from her wealthy Roman parents and flees in the care of her nurse, Croessa (Teresa Marangoni). They are captured by Phoenician pirates and sold as slaves in Carthage to the High Priest of the Temple, Karthalo (Dante Testa). He plans to sacrifice the child to the god Moloch, but Marangoni persuades a Roman spy, Fulvius Axilla (Umberto Mozzato) and his servant Maciste (Bartolomeo Pagano) to mount a rescue.
The heroes snatch the girl but are pursued and forced to separate. Mozzato jumps into the sea, but Pagano is captured after managing to hand the child to noblewoman Sophonisba (Italia Almirante-Manzini). More than a decade passes as Mozzato fights for Rome in the war while Pagano toils in the dungeons in Carthage. Back in the city as a spy, Mozzato rescues his old friend and discovers that Cabiria (now played by Lidia Quaranta) lives under the name Elissa as Almirante-Manzini’s favourite slave.
When considering a groundbreaking film such as this, it’s tempting to refer constantly to the year of its production and cast all its achievements in that context. Of course, this is a perfectly valid approach because Pastrone broke the mould in many ways with his film, and it’s important to salute the ambition, vision and financial commitment involved in such an epic enterprise. After all, it was less than ten years since the dawn of film exhibition as mass entertainment. There had been some precedent for similar productions in Italy. Arturo Ambrosio and Luigi Maggi had given audiences spectacle with ‘The Last Days of Pompeii/Gli ultimi giorni di Pompei’ (1908), but only 17 minutes of it. Subsequent spectacle ‘L’Inferno (1911) had clocked in at a whopping 71 minutes, but that had been a series of sets pieces rather than an ongoing narrative.
The trust Pastrone exhibits in his audience probably raised a few eyebrows at the time. Not only did he count on them sitting still for over two and a half hours, but he also presented them with a narrative structure that featured several slowly developing story threads happening concurrently. This is commonplace today, of course, but it’s probably something that the movie-goers of the time had not encountered too often. Mozzato’s Roman patrician provides the glue that sticks everything together, rather than the title character Cabiria as you might expect. He first saves her as a young child, then fights in the siege of Syracuse, meets her parents later on by chance, and is there as a prisoner in Citra, where events conclude. Conversely, Cabiria is little more than a plot device, almost a McGuffin, being passed from hand to hand. The only positive action she takes is when she offers the captured prisoners water in Citra toward the end of the film.
The human story does take second place to the spectacle, and this is where Pastrone and his technicians really shine. A handful of composite shots are achieved with fine optical trickery, but those aside, the scale is achieved with physical sets and hundreds of extras. The temple of Moloch toward the start of the film is imposing, with its giant head that opens to receive human sacrifices with a belch of flame. There is no question that these images directly influenced director Fritz Lang when he realised certain scenes in his epic ‘Metropolis’ (1927) made over a decade later.
However, the film’s influence was felt far earlier than that. Pastrone also included some slow tracking shots, utilising an invention he called ‘the carriage’. Other filmmakers were experimenting with what became known as the camera dolly at the time, but it was this film that popularised the technique. For years afterwards, such shots were known in the industry as ‘Cabiria movements.’ Apparently, American director D W Griffith was so impressed by Pastrone’s film that he took ‘The Mother and the Law’, which he was shooting at the time and expanded it into the episodic ‘Intolerance’ (1916), which became one of his most celebrated works.
Pastrone is also quite faithful to the accepted historical record of the Second Punic War between Rome and Carthage. There is a sequence of Hannibal crossing the Alps, and although it’s brief, it’s shot on location, and elephants are included, even if they are the wrong type. Numidian King Masinissa’s ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ romance with Sophonisba does appear to have some basis in fact; however, Archimedes’ use of giant mirrors and a ‘heat ray’ to burn the Roman fleet during the Siege of Syracuse is still hotly debated by historians today. It’s obvious why Pastrone chose to include it in his film, though, as it’s quite a sequence.
Similarly, the scene where Mozzato reenters Carthage by scaling the wall is also striking. The climb is accomplished with the aid of legionaries, who form a four-tier human pyramid with the assistance of their shields. Almirante-Manzini also deserves some credit for performing some of her scenes with a live leopard. The cast members had cause to be grateful that sound film hadn’t been invented yet. As it appears at some points in the inter-titles, the dialogue is so flowery and overcooked that it would have given them terminal indigestion. Trying to deliver those lines with a straight face would have been the greatest acting challenge of their lives.
Another consequence of the production was the introduction of the character of Maciste, who captured the public imagination to such an extent that a series of 27 films followed starring Pagano as the character. He was also revived as a rival to Hercules and his fellow musclemen during the 1960s and was easily the most featured character during that brief craze, leading another 25 films. Pastrone has him turning a millstone in a dungeon for over ten years here, unwittingly condemning every Peplum muscleman that followed in his wake to be chained to ‘The Big Wheel’ for similar punishment.
One element of the character, as shown in this film, can’t pass without comment. Arguably, Maciste is the film’s main hero, which is a distinct positive given that Pagano has been ‘blacked up’ for the role. Obviously, this decision might not sit too well with some modern audience members. There is a long tradition of ‘blackface’ in Italian arts and culture going back to the likes of Verdi’s ‘Aida’, which premiered in 1871. It’s still a point of contention in the opera world today.
After initially being involved with music, Pastrone joined the movie business as head of the Itala Film Company in 1909. As well as directing almost a dozen short subjects, some on historical themes, he produced, wrote scripts, and worked on technical innovations. After the success of his Roman epic, he went on to deliver several other notable projects under the name Piero Fosco, including ‘Il fuoco (la favilla – la vampa – la cenere)’ (1916), ‘Tigre reale’ (1916) and a couple of the ‘Maciste’ series, with Pagano. When the company merged with another in 1919, he was forced to abandon two films he had in development, and he became disillusioned with the film business. He directed one more film in 1923 and passed away in 1959.
Historically important and an essential watch for lovers of silent cinema.
Mark David Welsh 