Perhaps even more so than other silent features - whether by intertitle or by the self-insertion of filmmaker Febo Mari, 'Il fauno' is distinctly partitioned into what feel like segments as much as scenes. It's a tack pointedly derived from the theatricality of live performance, and at once gives the picture a greater sense of being staged (that is, contrived and unnatural), especially as scenes sometimes wholly shift to different settings and characters. At the same time, one also can't help but grieve that such grandiose presentation has all but vanished from cinema in the many years since. With that structure established, what follows is a mildly fantastical story of love and drama that, whimsy aside, follows story threads echoing a long tradition of similar themes. That we've seen kindred tales before does not in itself detract from the value here, however. 'Il fauno' is not so striking as to demand viewership, but it's duly entertaining should one have the opportunity to watch it.
I appreciate the care put into costume design especially, but also hair, makeup, and set design. While broadly unremarkable, especially by modern standards, the camerawork and editing is suitable, and I do appreciate the mindfulness Mari demonstrates for arranging some fetching shots. Likewise, the acting isn't so noteworthy as to require special citation, but I think the assembled cast nonetheless do well to bring the picture to life. Most prominent are Nietta Mordeglia, portraying the unnamed model, and filmmaker Mari who himself appears as the titular figure. Both give performances illustrating capable range, nuance, and physicality befitting their lead roles, and both are to be commended for their contributions.
While tapping into the same vein as sagas of years or even millennia before, I think it's Mari's own screenplay that is the chief attraction. In particular, the scene writing is adequately varied, and dynamic from one part to the next, as to keep one's attention. And each passing moment laid before us builds into an overall narrative that is modestly compelling and engaging, playing with ideas that rouse our sympathies and stir some small measure of emotional investment. One could maybe say that the story beats are so generally common as to disinvite utmost attachment, and I think that's a fair assessment. Still, no specific flaw comes to mind to critique save for that quality of being unexceptional in the most plain definition of the word - and if that's the worst one can say of a movie, then I'd say the filmmaker has done pretty well for himself.
I rather wish the ending provided more meaningful resolution, instead of playing with a trope that I almost completely despise in modern fiction. On the other hand, the noted construction of the feature - its divisions, and the embellishment of its exhibition - is reinforced in the last moments, and in that emphasis softens the rebuke I would otherwise be inclined to give to such a conclusion. After all - in again accentuating The Stage, and The Play, 'Il fauno' reminds that we are The Audience, attending merely for a diversion of passing fanciful reverie. And with that: There's no great profundity to digest, and no drama so absorbing as to lose ourselves in the telling. This is the most simple of movies, for the most simple era of cinema; it wants naught but to entertain, and so it does. You don't need to go out of your way to find it, but I think 'Il fauno' is a fine way to spend 72 minutes - and sometimes that's all a film needs to be.