Four Essential Films to Watch at Il Cinema Ritrovato 2026

      Now in its 40th edition, Il Cinema Ritrovato has grown into a genuine maze of cinema, akin to a Borgesian garden filled with divergent paths where one can easily become lost. The festival spans nine days across about 10 theaters, accompanied by a 500-page catalog that feels burdensome as you traverse the portico-lined streets of Bologna between screenings. It’s a dream come true for cinephiles, and it’s difficult to express the enchantment of viewing century-old silent films or experimental Armenian cinema among thousands of spectators in the Piazza Maggiore beside a stunning 500-year-old Italian cathedral.

      The festival’s name translates to “the cinema rediscovered,” and its extensive range presents a unique chance to step beyond your usual film preferences and explore the unfamiliar. With hundreds of titles in the lineup, there inevitably comes a time (around the midway point of the festival) when I nearly abandon all of my meticulous planning and logic; I simply allow chance and instinct to guide my film choices, entering screenings with minimal expectation. Quoting German theorist Aby Warburg, one of the festival’s directors suggested during the opening ceremony that “the book you need is always right next to the one you’re looking for.” At Il Cinema Ritrovato, I aimed to set aside my own desires and let the journey of discovery reveal what I was truly seeking. Here are four highlights that not only amazed me but, in keeping with the spirit of Il Cinema Ritrovato, also took me by surprise.

      Pakeezah (Kamal Amrohi, 1972)

      The film of the festival that nearly induced Stendhal syndrome in me, Pakeezah is an opulent Urdu musical based in Northern India. Filmed over 15 years as director Kamal Amrohi repeatedly restarted production to transition from black-and-white to Eastmancolor and finally CinemaScope, the film embodies a George Cukor-esque notion of how meticulous visual beauty can convey layers of emotional complexity beyond the storyline. The tale recounts a tragic romance between a courtesan, Sahibjaan (Meena Kumari), and a man, Salim (Raaj Kumar), who leaves her a love letter after catching a glimpse of her feet on a train. He refers to her as “Pakeezah,” meaning “the pure one,” as she tries to flee from him due to shame about her past. With lavish sets depicting grand mansions and expansive street scenes, Amrohi demonstrates breathtaking control over space, depth, color, and camera movement. The various dances performed by Sahibjaan as a courtesan evoke a sublime interplay of stillness and motion: glacial tracking shots across spacious, almost empty chambers contrast with Kumari’s careful, deliberate spins, creating hypnotic rhythms laden with poetic resonance. Entire sequences consist solely of camera movements through vacant palace rooms—dolly shots around fountains, mirrors, curtains billowing in the breeze; crimson carpets adorned with intricate gold lace; the moon overhead—and the sheer aesthetic textures were enough to nearly bring me to tears.

      L’Enfant Du Paris (Léonce Perret, 1913)

      Léonce Perret’s L’Enfant Du Paris stands as a testament to Martin Scorsese’s remark that “whatever you think is new now was already done in 1913,” showcasing cinematic craftsmanship that reshaped my perception of the early decades of cinema. Centered around the quest for a small girl who becomes orphaned and subsequently kidnapped after her father is presumed dead in a colonial war, its narrative is reminiscent of Dickens while anticipating the crime serials of Louis Feuillade, who was the producer. While predominantly a melodrama—and an exceptionally effective one at that—L’Enfant Du Paris would be remarkable in any era for its masterful navigation of multiple contrasting tonal registers. From thrilling chases through the streets of Paris to documentary-style street scenes in lower-class saloons to brief comic interlude, the film consistently veered into surprising new territories without ever losing its emotional core. One of the most memorable moments occurs when Bosco, a supporting character who encounters the kidnapped girl, unexpectedly becomes the focal point for the latter half of the narrative. The suspense gradually gives way to a leisurely sentimentality as the trail runs cold in Nice, leading him to wander aimlessly through the city, destitute and weeping whenever he passes a doll shop that reminds him of the girl. Accompanied by a beautiful score from Gabriel Thibaudeau on piano and Fabiana Sommariva on English horn, L’Enfant Du Paris truly epitomized the Il Cinema Ritrovato viewing experience for me in terms of quality, novelty, and revelatory wonder.

      By the Law (Lev Kuleshov, 1926)

      Directed by Lev Kuleshov, widely acknowledged as the pioneer of psychological editing with the Kuleshov effect, By the Law presents a grim morality tale adapted from a Jack London novel. Set in the Yukon