Diva films are a genre that I’ve been wanting to talk about on this site for some time. Many cinematic actresses could be called divas, undoubtedly, but it’s a specific film type that the term diva film is generally used to represlent: the female-led melodramas of Italy in the 1910s (and to some extent, the 1920s) – one of my favourite facets of the rich history of the silent era.
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The beautiful painted rendition of Lyda Borelli that opens the Ma l’amor mio non muore DVD.
I was instantly drawn to these films when I learned about them, probably from Peter Delpeut’s compilation-film tribute Diva Dolorosa (NL 1999). What may be vices to some are virtues to me: I love the often operatic nature of the acting, the fanciful and sometimes bizarre costuming, the sensational plots. And most importantly for me, woman are placed at the centre of the storyline: the divas are front and centre, entrusted and chosen to carry the film.
These are not unheralded feminist works, by any means: the diva is usually more mater dolorosa than independent woman (or even femme fatale or vamp). But there is something special about these films: the woman at the eye of the storm, the outsized emotion, the expressiveness of body, clothing, and décor. Mariann Lewinsky may have put it best in the liner notes of the Sangue Bleu DVD: “It is a wonderful genre: the films are as gorgeous as birds of paradise, with plots that have no use whatsoever for probability.” Although the diva’s character can cross social classes, the films generally focus on high society or aspirational settings – even situations of ruin or poverty, and the diva’s lives are frequently menaced by a variety of hazards – are pervaded with a certain sense of glamour.
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Francesca Bertini in Diana, L’Affascinatrice (IT 1915)
It was the flowering of something different, enabled by the rise of film as a mass medium, the modern social context, the increasing urbanization of life. As Michele Canosa puts it (again in the Sangue Bleu DVD liner notes), “A diva does not arise from the sea foam, but is shot out of the bustling metropolis.” She continues:
The concept was new to the screen: a thorny drama – modern – feature length – with a female star. [..] Now the costumes and circus of ancient Rome competed with modern settings, fine tailoring, and toilettes à la page. This high-society version of a “Made in Italy” genre became better known by the term, which later became antiquated, cinema in frac (tux films) – “in heels and tuxes”.
Yet as argued by Angela Dalle Vacche, these films were not just empty spectacles: they also had social relevance, tackling issues such as divorce, shame, abandonment, illegitimate childbearing – important in a strongly Catholic country that trailed other Western European nations in women’s rights issues. In her words, “Thanks to its social awareness, cinema strengthened its bond with female audiences to an outstanding degree”. Interestingly, it seems the popularity of the genre is connected to the very language used for film in Italian: according to Dalle Vacche, it was with the emergence of the diva film that the linguistic shift from il cinematografo to a feminine noun (la film; la pellicola) occurred.
Who were the divas?
In the WWI era – the heyday of the Italian film diva – Lyda Borelli, Pina Menichelli, and Francesca Bertini were the most famous Italian actresses to grace the screen: all beautiful and talented, each bringing something different to the cinema.
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Lyda Borelli in Carnavalesca (IT 1918)
Although not the first of the three women to get into films, Lyda Borelli is generally considered to be the first film diva, and continues to be marketed as such (e.g., Lyda prima diva! by the Cineteca di Bologna). Borelli was a well-established stage actress who launched her film career in 1913 with Ma l’amor mio non muore! | Love Everlasting (lit. But my love will never die!) Being of the stage, Borelli’s cinematic acting was very influenced by theatrical conventions. She acts with a unique, flowing, decadent style which gave rise to the verb borelleggiare (i.e. “to Borelli-ize” or imitate Borelli): the 1917 edition of the Dizionario Moderno explains the term as “Young women fussing and moping around, in the manner of the beautiful Lyda Borelli’s gratuitous and aestheticizing poses”. It is an acting style that is out of fashion now, perceived as dated and perhaps overdetermined (although very appealing to me!), based on poses and dancelike movements based on painterly figures. But it was much, if not universally, appreciated at the time. Francesco Pitassio quotes an anonymous reviewer of the early 1910s:
Lyda Borelli is the actress who epitomizes grace and elegance; her movements on the scene, which appear to have been forged by an artist expert in decorations and plastic effects, […] the flexible body of the diva Lyda is something evanescent and dream-like.
Ma l’amor mio non muore is essential viewing, as is one of my favourites, Rapsodia Satanica (IT 1915/17); Malombra (IT 1917) is great fun and has a rather gothic theme, unusual for the genre. Like all of the divas, there is little available on DVD, but digital copies for several of her films are out there.
Francesca Bertini is perhaps the diva actress with the most range: she took on a wider variety of roles than Borelli and Menichelli, and is generally (and rightfully) credited with a more realistic acting style. Due to their different acting styles as well as their professional rivalry, Bertini has often been contrasted with Borelli. As Pitassio writes, her style is characterised by a more naturalistic and economic approach, something that was admired by contemporary critics. In 1914, a critic wrote:
Francesca Bertini does not pursue and unrealistic ideal through an artificial deployment of poses; instead she conveys reality through spontaneous facial expressions and natural gestures. […] She is not a model who strikes a sculpture-like pose, she is, rather, a woman of the real world.
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Clik here to view.Francesca Bertini in Assunta Spina (IT 1915)
Bertini took a very active role in her career, shaping her image and choosing her roles carefully, as well as founding her own production company, Bertini-Film. Her breakout role was Sangue Bleu | The Princess of Monte Cabello (IT 1914), released on DVD this year as part of Cineteca di Bologna’s Cento anni fa (one hundred years ago) series; the great Assunta Spina (IT 1915) was another key success. One of her early films, Histoire d’un pierrot (IT 1913), is one that I really hope to see in future; in this film Bertini was the first Italian film actress to play a role in male clothing. It also reportedly contains a lesbian subtext. (A copy is preserved at the Library of Congress and some months ago I enquired about a digital access copy, but the fee was rather beyond my budget, sadly …)
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Pina Menichelli in Tigre Reale (IT 1916)
This brings us to Pina Menichelli, my personal favourite of the big three. Possessed of a striking face and a charismatic sensuality, I find her to be a fascinating screen presence. She doesn’t have such an easy characterisation as Borelli or Bertini, but Dalle Vacche describes her as the most defiant of the divas, which seems fitting – not quite mischievous, but less regal than Borelli. Starting out with Cines, it was her move to Itala that led to her breakout, with the film Il fuoco | The Flame (IT 1915), directed by the venerable Giovanni Pastrone. This is my favourite diva film – the reigning champion. It is my fervent wish that it will be next year’s Cento anni fa release. Il fuoco is not typical of the diva genre in some ways … but that’s a topic for a future review. Other key Pina films include Tigre Reale (IT 1916) and La Storia di Una Donna | The Story of a Woman (IT 1920).
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The list of second-tier divas usually includes women such as Maria Jacobini, Leda Gys, Italia Almirante Manzini (middle picture above; regular readers will remember that I enjoyed greatly in La Statua di Carne at Pordenone), Elena Sangro. Though not really a film diva, Carmen Boni is an Italian actress of the 1920s that, from descriptions, I would be very interested to see the work of.
Writing about divas
The main person to have written about diva films is scholar Angela Dalle Vacche, who has published the book Diva: Defiance and Passion in Early Italian Cinema (2008) as well as a series of papers on the topic. Unfortunately, I can’t wholeheartedly recommend her writing. Certainly she has done a huge amount of good research, but I find her analysis sometimes unconvincing, and her writing features some strange non sequiturs. To my mind she overextends some metaphors and concepts beyond usefulness – more poetic in nature than a workable theoretical construct. However, I am grateful to her for raising the lid on this genre, and by publishing information unavailable elsewhere.
This post has been in the works for some time, but I’ve found it difficult to express my thoughts on the diva film. After all, they are often rather formulaic, and undistinguished cinematographically – rather static camerawork is the general rule. The plots are pretty silly, and I’ll probably make fun of them in future reviews – but only from a place of true affection. In the end, what attracts me to the diva film is the central figure of the diva herself – her phenomenal screen presence and movement, her dresses, her struggles, triumphs and sufferings. The figure of the excessive woman, writ large in film in 1910s Italy.
Throughout the rest of the month, I’ll tackle several of these films. Stay tuned for ‘Diva December’.
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Pina Menichelli in La Moglie di Claudio (IT 1918)
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