Prince Ghiacciolino (Carámbano in the Spanish version) is depressed. Wise men’s advice, the jester’s jokes or the delicacies that march in prepared by an army of cooks are of no use. Enchanted by a glowing reflection, he sets out to find the only thing he claims he really wants: a ray of sunshine. Or maybe he is just looking for an excuse to get away from his apprehensive royal parents. Whatever the reason may be, at the end of his journey he finds love. According to Frusta’s notes, an enchanting and graceful cinematic fairy tale with a hint of caricature. The narration is developed through a succession of visual ideas directly related to the story: the astronomers at work, the bright spot, and the appearance of Raggio di sole crowned by Schneider’s lions, which in actual fact were rather tame. Eventually spring returns to the ice country as well. It is almost a shame that the incredible royal sled pulled by penguins cannot be used anymore.

At the time, a fussy reviewer noted that the film did not stick to the historical facts. Today, we care less, although we cannot criticize him for it. Galileo ends up before the Holy Office due to a vengeful servant who wanted to win the good Galileo Galilei (Coll. Museo Nazionale del Cinema, Torino) graces of his daughter. And that is not the only flight of fancy. Here’s another example: while at church and on his knees on a kneeler, the genius sees a swinging lamp and is struck by an insight that reveals to him the motion of pendulums (an irresistible visual ploy that joins fervent Catholicism and scientific method sui generis). His theory on planetary motion is a forbidden shape: when church representatives circle around the parchment containing Galileo’s discoveries, they react with disdain and gesticulate as if indicating the shape of woman’s body. When the scientist is forced to burn his own work, he holds it to his chest as if it were a lover about to be taken from him. As the paper burns, a curtain opens in the background and behind a grate we see his daughter who has literally been imprisoned by nuns, opening abysses ofsuffering we cannot see.

Andrea Meneghelli

Waiting for the following year’s Richard Wagner anniversary, Ambrosio planned to make films based on his opera in the spring of 1912. The plan resulted in two films: Parsifal and Siegfried, both directed by Mario Caserini, scripted by Arrigo Frusta and shot by Giuseppe Angelo Scalenghe. Both films share the outstanding visual aesthetics in which the actors stop and move geometrically in depth of field images. The quasi-formalist beauty most famously seen in Caserini’s Ma l’amor mio non muore! (1913) is prefigured in these Wagner films. However, after being released, the difficulty of making a film based on Wagner’s oeuvre was discussed everywhere. A Japanese critic wrote: “This was adapted from Der Ring des Nibelungen by Richard Wagner, a great man of the art world who shined in the 19th century. It is very far from the original. Because this is a film, we should overlook this change. The nymphs singing on the bank of the luminous Rhine. Kriemhild with her beautiful blond hair swinging her sword… It’s an elegantly glossy film.” (“Kinema Record”, November 1914).

Hiroshi Komatsu