On October 19th, I had the privilege of attending a performance over 700 years in the making. I am referring to IU Cinema’s recent screening of L’Inferno (1911) with a live score by indie chamber group Montopolis. I am admittedly a little bit scared of silent films, so this seemed like an excellent opportunity to get acquainted with an important early feature while listening to some good music. But I don’t think anyone can fully prepare to see a medieval depiction of hell in a century-old film accompanied by a driving synth score.
Montopolis is a modern chamber music group from Texas, performing the work of composer Justin Sherburn. L’Inferno was actually Montopolis’ second visit to IU Cinema; the first was in September 2022 for a live score of the 1929 Soviet Ukrainian documentary Man with a Movie Camera. Their L’Inferno live score and accompanying EP were released in 2023 (give this a listen, the sound is super interesting even without the film!). Combining “psych rock, dark wave, and terrifying sound effects,” this live score was probably unexpected for a lot of the people in the audience the night of October 19th. It was shocking in the best possible way for me, too: before I delve into my experience in detail, I think it will be helpful to provide some context for L’Inferno, its subject matter, and its history.
L’Inferno is an adaptation of the Inferno, the first part of Dante Alghieri’s 14th century narrative poem, the Divine Comedy. The Inferno follows Dante as he ventures through Hell, guided by the Roman poet Virgil. Dante’s version of hell draws from classical Greek and Roman sources as well as his contemporary Christian context, combining to create a truly horrifying story. It is rife with depictions of the physical punishments “sinners” were thought to endure in the afterlife; this work introduced the concept of the “circles” of hell. The Inferno has inspired visual artists since the 1300s, from printmakers to painters and filmmakers. L’Inferno was one of the earliest movies directly inspired by Dante, and some of its most striking images are directly inspired by artists such as 18th-century French printmaker Gustave Doré.
Bertrand de Born with his severed head. Top: L’Inferno (1911). Bottom: Canto 28, illustrated by Gustave Doré, 1857. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
L’Inferno was the first feature-length film from Italy, and its release is credited with establishing the Italian film industry. L’Inferno is also considered by some to be the first-ever horror film. And hopefully, from these representative screenshots, you can see where the horror designation comes from. The visual effects aren’t seamless, but honestly, I think their analog quality makes them all the more unsettling. The shots themselves can be expansive or claustrophobic. Practical effects and forced perspectives help to distort the size of individuals against their environment or each other, creating caverns, demons, giants, and monsters. Aside from the notable visual effects and continual references to art history, L’Inferno is (of course) absolutely saturated with religious and spiritual symbolism. I often felt overwhelmed trying to decode the representative onslaught present in each shot. Apparently, only 68 minutes of the original 3-hour runtime survive today – I can’t imagine the task of fully picking apart this film if it ran three times longer.
Even though this is a silent film, music has always been important to its reception. Montopolis isn’t the first band to compose a modern soundtrack to this film: German electronic pioneers Tangerine Dream released their own score to accompany its 2004 DVD release. Compared to the Montopolis score, the Tangerine Dream score is more slight and measured. I would love to rewatch L’Inferno with this score and a bit more research.
With all of that in mind, I arrived at the theater on October 19th, ready for my journey to hell. At the theater entrance, Sherburn welcomed guests with stickers and promotional merch, clad in a floor-length brown robe complete with a waist cord and draping hood. Once inside, a guitar, microphone, theremin, and multiple keyboards were waiting for us on the left side of the stage, emerging from the dark theater in the glow of colorful LED lights. As the lights dimmed and Sherburn took the stage, he offered the audience a short introduction to himself, his work, and L’Inferno. As the first intertitle faded onto the screen, the music started.
Sherburn scored all 68 minutes alone, expertly shifting between the keyboards, guitar, theremin, and microphone. The music was sonically consistent, but varied slightly in itensity along with the images on screen. In my opinion, the most impactful points were transitional moments during the longer intertitles, when the music dimmed to a single sustained note before swelling back as the next surreal scene came into focus. My favorite moment in the score was when Dante and Virgil moved through limbo at the start of their journey; the bassline here was really lovely and memorable. I was also impressed by the use of voices (whether recorded vocals or Sherburn’s own live). For me, not a single word was intelligible, which was consistent with the cryptic nature of the film itself. Overall, the score was exciting and perfectly complementary to the spooky and surreal images on screen.
I highly recommend giving Montopolis a listen and L’Inferno a watch, especially as the weather gets cooler and spooky season continues on. Maybe one day my fear of silent films will be cured, but for as long as hell’s chilling images and sounds stay with me, I don’t see that happening.
