There's something magical and alluring about Cabiria that goes above and beyond the sum of its hit-and-miss elements. Beautifully sprawling sets depicting ancient times with stunning detail and imagination serve as the backdrop to characters that jump out from the screen in a way that had yet been achieved anywhere else. In more ways than one, Cabiria strikes many a resemblance to Dante's Inferno from a few years prior, but tops said film on just about every count. Perhaps the most vivid comparison between the two lies in its special effects. While Inferno's imagery strived for biblical grandeur, Cabiria instead delivers something that's more artistic and frail. Sure, there are scenes which focus mostly on disaster and action, but it's the movie's dabbling in dream-like effects and romantic imagery that gives it the upper hand. By no means is everything perfect, however. It has to be said that moments of banality and obtuse, incomprehensible plotting occur more frequently in between moments that either awe you with spectacle or woo you with charm. Nevertheless, the film still manages to make its mark well, standing out vividly from its early cinematic siblings thanks to its more straight-forward subplots which more often than not cease any yawns beginning to surface. Perhaps most staggering of all is the film's scope, not just in ambition and bravado, but in its ability to strike genuine pathos. Whether it's moments of comic relief, tragic despair or sheer thrill, Cabiria gripped me from time to time in ways that earlier features failed to do. Definitely worth at least one watch for curious cinephiles and in my opinion is the first truly worthwhile entry in cinema's awkward infancy years.
