If there is one subject that cinema loves more than love or war, it would be the art of filmmaking itself. So many directors from the age of the silent era to those working today, have made films that reflect their admiration and adoration for the medium that has allowed them to explore their own artistic curiosities. One of the most unheralded examples of practical cinematic celebration comes in the form of The Suitcase of Dreams (Italian: La valigia dei sogni), the absolutely staggering comedy by Luigi Comencini, who carefully curates a series of moments centred around an elderly Italian man who used to be the biggest silent film star in his country, but has dedicated his twilight years to saving old films from the “slaughterhouse”, where they are regularly destroyed. In an age where restoration of old art has never been more relevant, a film like The Suitcase of Dreams resonates with a ferocity that can only be described as intense. While it’s not as common an occurrence today as it was at the time this film was made, the tragedy of films being lost as a result of human negligence is a pressing issue, and Comencini seems to somehow be gravitating towards these conversations, focusing on how art has the power to bring entire populations together – and he does it through a sweet, sentimental comedy with a lot of heart, but an even more profound sense of depth, which only helps create a situation where the viewer is drawn further into this film, enveloped by one of the most incredibly potent celebrations of cinema, and everything it represents. Powerful, funny and insightful in a way that not many films tend to be, The Suitcase of Dreams is a masterpiece, the kind of cinematic celebration that can only be made by someone who has nothing but the most firm and ardent admiration for his craft.

A good way to settle into the world of The Suitcase of Dreams is through looking at Roland Barthes’ statement that “the text is a tissue of quotations drawn from innumerable centres of culture”, meaning that any work of art, even the most original, has its origins in past works. This is an adage most commonly associated with postmodernism, which made good use of the idea of deconstructing older works for the sake of creating the new – and produced a solid decade before the first official works into the movement, The Suitcase of Dreams can easily be classified as one of the pioneering works, an early forerunner of what would become a deep, experimental approach to art. The film’s structure is almost unbearably simple – Comencini uses the story of a former silent movie star who has dedicated his life to salvaging remnants of the past and showcasing them for the purposes of education and entertainment, as a framing device. Most of the film is plucked from old footage from silent-era Italian productions, much of it being shown for the first time since their original release. The oscillation between archival footage and the new story created for the film creates an unforgettable duality that gives the director the chance to use the past as a way of forging a new statement on the future directions. As much as The Suitcase of Dreams is about nostalgia, and revisiting the past (there is the common debate around how the advent of sound filmmaking changed the industry forever, a discussion that was quite frequent in the cinematic discourse at the time), it’s also focused on showing the direction that Comencini noticed the industry he adored was heading – he isn’t a Luddite in the way that he only yearns for the “good old days”, since he finds value in every form of filmmaking. This is a work produced by someone who had the utmost respect for the process of filmmaking, and a director who knew the value of visual storytelling in representing a culture and its past.

Comencini takes the helm and functions as something between a film director and an art historian, using his own passion and knowledge for his national cinema to create a film that tells a deep and moving story not only about celebrating film, but the value of revisiting the past. The majority of the silent films used to construct The Suitcase of Dreams are epic productions that reflect Italy’s past – whether the life and death of Julius Caesar, or the more intimate stories of the everyday people that lived through different centuries, the film is a rich and evocative record of the country’s history. Part fictional comedy, part poignant documentary, the film serves multiple purposes in presenting the audience with fragments of one of the oldest cultures in Europe, done without any sense of pretentious showboating. As much as he loves cinema, Comencini clearly adores Italy as well – and the fact that this film remains relatively obscure, while quietly flourishing into one of the most insightful voyages into the past, is bewildering, and only further motivates those who have been touched by this film to continue celebrating it and bringing it to the attention of new viewers. It’s not always the most modern-minded film, often taking its time in establishing a clear direction (and for contemporary viewers, some of the discourse surrounding the debate between silent and sound filmmaking may not register in the same way as it did over half a century ago when such conversations were still very much relevant), but the heartfulness with which Comencini executes this story and develops it into something meaningful is staggering. He even manages to wrangle Helena Makowska, one of the most iconic European actresses of the early days of cinema, to have a small but substantial role as herself, looking back on the height of her career. It lends the film a powerful gravitas that is difficult to compare to anything else, which only makes The Suitcase of Dreams an even more enthralling experience.

Unfortunately, the fact that The Suitcase of Dreams remains relatively obscure, despite being one of the most enduring and captivating explorations of cinema ever produced, doesn’t seem likely to change. It’s not the most bold or ambitious celebration of the art of filmmaking, and its emphasis on the glory days of silent film only increases the distance between viewers and the subject matter the more it recedes further into the past. Most of the films showcased here were produced over a century ago, and the relevancy of the story is inevitably going to be called into question – however, the fact that this film was made for the sole purpose of being the director’s attempt to show exactly what cinema means to him, is an extraordinary reason to give it a chance. It’s a small film, and it doesn’t always ascend to a particular point of contention, other than being a poignant example of demonstrating the impact film can make on one’s life. If there was ever an example of a story that showed how film holds far more power than just being for the sake of entertainment, it can be found in Comencini’s beautiful and poetic ode to the mighty power of cinema. Anchored by a pair of wonderful leading performances by Umberto Melnati and Maria-Pia Casilio, who capture the vivacious spirit of these characters incredibly well, and told with a firm but lovable sense of nostalgic desire, The Suitcase of Dreams is an absolutely impeccable love letter to a medium that has touched so many people over the decades. Nearly anyone can find something of value embedded in this film – whether you’re a devotee to the early days of cinema, or someone with a penchant for film history, or simply someone who has ever felt the insatiable power of going to the movies, there’s something of value in this film. It’s a charming, endearing comedy that makes it very clear how much cinema means to a lot of people – and when all is said and done, once the images have faded off the screen, all that remains are the memories, which often mean more than the actual experience itself.