Malombra

Yes, it's true, it's a rare find. But just because something is old, that does not mean it's worthy of praise. This is dull film with over emoting from the clearly spoiled and arrogant leading character. This lady has the smooth brain- believing just reading a letter will make her possessed. She runs around her uncle's castle increasingly agitating the viewer with her superfluous-ness.

A book her highness draws from the mansion's library, entitled 'The Grotesque and Arabesque', is a collection of short stories dedicated to a hostile Colonel who wrote a book called 'Southern Gentlemen Vindicated by the Defeat of the terroristic and treasonous Northern Abolitionist', or some such nonsense. This revisionist so honored is the icon of the book's author - Edgar Allen Poe. The Edgar Allen Poe.

I'm not sure what's more offensive - that Poe thing or this movie for doing a damn good job of putting me to sleep.

Lyda Borelli goes to live with her uncle in his shadowed castle. There she uncovers a letter from from the Duke's youth, his first wife, telling of how she is dying, poisoned by Miss Borelli's uncle. Gradually, Miss Borelli comes to believe she is the receptacle of the dead woman's soul, seeking revenge, even as she lives an aristocratic, modern life in this well-produced melodrama.

It's a real potboiler by the long-lasting director-writer, Carmine Gallone. He was born in 1885 and by the turn of the century was writing plays. He directed his first feature movie in 1913, and by the time he retired in 1962, had directed well over a hundred of them. His specialty was biographies of composers and costume dramas, but had a wide range which included a couple of the Don Camillio comedies starring Fernandel. He died in 1973.

Malombra presents one of the most praised works of the great silent era diva Lyda Borelli. Being one of the first horror-mystery films ever (5 years before Dracula), this feature is a must-see for anyone who wishes to explore rich history of film.

On one hand, the premise, plot and character foundation are comparable (if not completely equal) even to the modern horror movies. Extensive and efficient use of close-up enabled actors to achieve their full potential. That was especially true in case of the main actress, who can on multiple occasions be seen showing subtle shifts of emotions using only her facial expressions (yes, this phenomenon was still a rarity in this phase of film history).

However, what this film lacks is maybe the director's greater understanding of how the effects of camera movement and montage language actually work. For example, more than once so happened that a viewer is left unsure of which character says what line. Also, it is not always clear was a given sequence real or just a character's dream. Furthermore, some shots are presented in such an order that suggests they are the part of the same sequence (that is, happening at the same time), while the storyline clearly suggests otherwise. Compared to, say, works of D. W. Griffith, this film shows noticeable deficiency in storytelling skills.

All this being said, Malombra, with its somewhat complex plot, decent acting and creative montage attempts, still plays an important role as a stepping stone in the development of film as an art form.

Watching the oldest of feature-length films, generally 5 reels or more, is such a trip, as much as any modern high fantasy. The vision of social values and culture of an entire century ago is curious in and of itself, but the manner in which movies were made seems extraordinary. And that's to say nothing of preservation efforts, which sometimes means reassembling a complete print from bits and pieces of several others, and possibly translating intertitles for the new edition - in 2022, we take for granted how ubiquitous cinema is, and how readily titles are maintained. With all this firmly in mind, 1917 Italian drama 'Malombra' is not be as immediately grabbing and precious as some of its contemporaries or successors in the silent era, nor ultimately as essential, but it's nonetheless a rich viewing experience that deserves remembrance. It does, however, also have issues that sadly drag it down.

What greets us is perhaps modest compared to the advanced techniques and technology of the film industry that developed hereafter into the monstrosity we know today. All the same, one can't help but admire the great work that was poured into this feature. The filming locations are fabulous, and the set design and decoration as well. Costume design, hair and makeup work, and props are excellent, distinct and fetching. The fundamental arrangement of many scenes is simply grand, as many extras fill carefully realized spaces while festooned with vibrant period clothing. Moreover, just as much as these basic elements of the title's craft, it's easy to look at acting in features so old and find it a far cry from what modern viewers are accustomed to. And that impression isn't entirely wrong; for lack of verbal dialogue or sound, performances through much of the silent era were broadly characterized by exaggerated body language and facial expressions to communicate thoughts and emotions, in no small part resembling theatrical productions in that capacity. Still, it's no less of a challenge to carry the spark of artistry by physical manifestation alone, but the cast manage to do so, conveying much while saying nothing. Enjoying the spotlight of the lead role, of course Lyda Borelli stands out most of all and is given the most opportunity to demonstrate her skills.

Despite being so far removed from modern viewing experiences, the construction of 'Malombra' and the contributions of its cast are no less appreciable. The writing is another question. As a matter of comparison between eras the storytelling also comes across as a trifle peculiar, and even other films of the timeframe could boast a more nuanced hand: there's an unmistakable directness to some silent pictures, and this is one of them. The plot moves with a discrete "A to B to C" progression, slightly stilted for the fact of it, and expository intertitles between scenes somewhat emphasize this. It's a method that seems relatively unsophisticated, and that the approach became increasingly rare over time with the further development of the medium cements that notion. Yet even putting this aside, 'Malombra' is troubled. Maybe reading the original novel would provide some illumination, yet the fact remains that in my opinion Carmine Gallone's film pointedly lacks narrative clarity. Some characters are introduced with little or no meaningful explanation to be given at any time of who they are, what their relationship is to others, or what their place is in the story. The character arc of the protagonist advances in fits and starts, and within the last 15-20 minutes makes a leap that in my mind doesn't flow naturally from what preceded it. I'm not even sure what exactly happens at the climax. The broad strokes of the plot are decisive enough, and duly enticing; the details are heavily muddled. This is deeply unfortunate, as the end result is a feeling that we're seeing a puzzle that is missing several pieces.

There are some great ideas here at large, and by all means no small amount of fine work went into it. Would that the writing of the feature we see were given as much attentive, mindful care as the other aspects. Why, between lacking articulateness and - at the same time - definite excess, this seems at times to drag even though it's a mere 75 minutes long. Needless to say, 'Malombra' isn't a picture liable to appeal to anyone who isn't already enamored of the silent era, and even for silent fans I think it falls short standing next to others. Even though it has undeniable problems, however, the feature bears value for having survived the ravages of time, and its flaws do not wholly overshadow the worth of the content. There's no reason to go out of your way to find this, and one should keep their expectations in check, but if you happen to come across it, 'Malombra' is still a passably enjoyable movie.

A young woman obsessed with the story of another young woman who was driven to death by her uncle seeks to avenge her death. Tedious, poorly told melodrama featuring some horribly overwrought emoting from leading lady Lydia Borelli. The rushed, fragmented ending suggests some scenes are missing, but the film would probably be a dud even if they weren't