Assunta Spina

If the Italian early cinema is known for its epic antique spectacles, Assunta Spina means a nice change. But it is obvious that it's not the only different film compared to the mainstream in the era. The Italian early cinema took a lot of influences from literature and people started to describe the lives of the common people; workers and lovers. Assunta Spina is one of these film and a very good one. In 1914 World War I begun in Europe, at first Italy didn't take part in it, but in May 1915 it joined the Allied Powers. One of the consequences of WWI for cinema was that Italy and France lost their places as the leading developers of it and the United States started making more and more films. Italian early cinema is part of the era when Italy was among the biggest cinema countries in the world and Assunta Spina is one of its most well known products.

Assunta Spina is basically a love triangle story. Assunta is a young woman, who is married with Michele but also loved by Raffaele. Love, hatred and jealousy culminate in tragical consequences. As said before the story is very simple and the narrative is minimalistic. But the gestures and expressive behaviour is magnificent. The gestures used in cinema were already very well known; to beckon, fists held high, hands on face etc. Assunta Spina is naturalistic realism and the expressions feel very natural or if not natural at least touching, beautiful and far away from exaggerating, which is common for many Hollywood silent films.

With a relatively simple but well-told story, plus many good atmospheric details, this Italian feature is an effective melodrama that is still worth seeing. It is also worthwhile as a chance to see Francesca Bertini, who was so renowned in her day, in a role that gives her quite a wide variety of material to work with. Her fine performance would be enough to carry the story by itself, but the movie also has several other strengths.

The story itself is relatively straightforward. Assunta (Bertini) is engaged to be married to Michele, but Assunta's old flame Raffaele is too strong-willed to let her go. He makes an ever-greater nuisance of himself, building up quite a bit of tension, which sets off a turbulent sequence of events. The story is set against a believable and realistic background of life in Naples. The on-location filming includes scenes of many of the sights in and around Naples, and is an important part of the film's success. It also works well in putting the main characters into their social setting by, among other things, showing brief glimpses of Michele and Assunta at work.

This is the kind of story that works especially well as a silent film. The ways the characters say things are unimportant - what's important is their relationships and their attitudes, and the cast define these very well without sound. Besides Bertini's starring performance, Gustavo Serena is also quite believable in portraying the mercurial Michele. The story moves at a good pace, without any extraneous padding, and without rushing itself. All in all, it's a worthwhile little movie from the years when feature-length films were just starting to become more common.

The other Italian films that I've seen from this early period of cinema history are poor imitations of theatre. In the US, the movies were more cinematic, but often confined to studios. At least in the beginning, "Assunta Spina" is outdoors a lot. One or two images of the Naples landscape are even pretty nice. It's difficult to go wrong with a shot of a boat against the horizon. Some of the outdoor footage suffers from (probably) a combination of poor lighting and deterioration of the negative.

Generally, though, the camera barely moves and the framing is always long shots. The story is a trashy melodrama about a dysfunctional couple. One is a jealous dolt, the other a clinging, masochistic drama queen. Francesca Bertini, apparently a star in her day, is a lousy screen actress--posturing histrionically and repeatedly staring into nothing in an attempt to convey emotion. It's very boring.

The beautifully tinted restoration of this drama of passion and jealousy provides in equal measure a magnificent record of Italy's imposing silent diva Francesca Bertini and of the sun-drenched splendour of Naples as it looked over a hundred years ago; used lavishly throughout as a backdrop.

Bertini often plays to the camera - hand on hips, head raised imperiously - and the characters are inclined to interact with each other laterally as they would on a proscenium; but director Gustavo Serena also makes frequent excellent use of composition in depth considerably aided by the sumptuous and atmospheric cinematography of Alberto G. Carta. All in all it looks tremendous.

Akin to a Puccini or Mascagni opera without the music, Assunta Spina is a work of dazzling dramatic intensity - with a heroine who is striking in her sensuality and modernity. Unlike the languid paper dolls who populate silent films by Griffith and others, Francesca Bertini plays a fully sexual woman. A vulnerable but hard-headed child of the slums, she's not above flirting with a man who's not her fiance, or - once the fiance goes to jail for attacking her in a jealous rage - prostituting herself to an official in order to save him. Not a Madonna, not a whore, but a woman. Perhaps the first real woman in screen history.

The gap between Image and Truth - between the sanctified image of 'woman' handed down from Roman Catholicism and 19th century melodrama, and the unvarnished truth of a real woman fighting to survive - is made explicit in the design and staging of Assunta Spina. An altar to an idealised Virgin Mary dominates the heroine's home; her less-than-ideal actions are seen and judged against it. A rare bit of calculated 'design' in a film that was shot almost entirely in the streets and slums of Naples. A style that anticipates Neo-Realism and cinema verite.

However, Assunta Spina lives in a much higher realm of art than either of those later trends. What lifts it up to the pinnacle is the acting of Francesca Bertini. One of those rare performers who goes beyond mere 'film acting'- fusing the physical grace of Margot Fonteyn with the operatic intensity of Maria Callas. Her vast liquid eyes seem to contain the whole film, and director Gustavo Serena (who co-directed, or so rumour has it, with the lady herself) manages to convey whole episodes solely through the body of his star. In the final duel between her two lovers, we never see a knife pass into flesh. All we see is a shudder pass through Bertini as she watches, and her hands clasp the air in mute agony.

In a word, DIVINA!

David Melville