New Music — Scarlatti: Il Trionfo della Grazia

New music that may be of interest to our readers.

• Scarlatti: Il Trionfo della Grazia, performed by Ensemble Celadon

Label: Ricercar
Release Date: July 10, 2026
Audio CD: $22.99
Number of Discs: 1

Available at Amazon.com

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Photo of the Week: The Colossal Head of Augustus in the Cortile della Pigna, Vatican Museums (I)

The Colossal Head of Augustus, dating from the 1st century AD, is displayed on the east wall of the open-air Cortile della Pigna (Courtyard of the Pinecone) in the Vatican Museums (Photo by New York Scugnizzo)

Feast of St. Albert of Trapani at the Carmelite Monastery in Morristown, New Jersey

Rediscovering the Christian Statesmanship of King Ferdinand II Through the Funeral Oration of Monsignor Francesco Saverio Petagna

Gianandrea de Antonellis’ introduction to the 2019 edition of Elogio Funebre alla Pia Memoria di Ferdinando II (1859), subsequently republished on Alta Terra di Lavoro, offers far more than a preface to a nineteenth-century funeral oration. He argues that Monsignor Francesco Saverio Petagna’s address deserves renewed attention, not only as a historical document but also as an expression of the political and religious ideals that shaped the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.

The introduction opens by situating the funeral oration within the turbulent political climate of Italian unification. De Antonellis explains that one of the principal reasons Petagna was later forced into exile was the solemnity with which he honored King Ferdinand II after the monarch’s death in 1859. This alone illustrates how politically charged even the memory of the Bourbon king had become during the years of Italian unification.

De Antonellis also traces the longstanding mutual esteem between Ferdinand II and Monsignor Petagna. He recounts the anecdote of the King, traveling incognito, attending one of the young priest’s sermons in Naples out of curiosity. Impressed by Petagna’s gifts, Ferdinand later appointed him Bishop of Castellammare and eventually bestowed upon him the Royal Order of Francis I. These episodes underscore the close personal relationship that existed between the monarch and the prelate long before the funeral oration was delivered.

At the heart of the article is Petagna’s portrait of Ferdinand II. Rather than repeating the familiar image found in post-Risorgimento historiography, the Bishop presents a ruler whose Catholic faith permeated both his private life and public duties. Petagna recalls Ferdinand’s devotion to the Rosary, his visits to the Blessed Sacrament, his public recitation of the Angelus, and his reverence toward the Blessed Virgin. Particularly striking is the Bishop’s recollection of the King’s visits to Castellammare, where the faithful witnessed his sincere acts of devotion before the Blessed Sacrament and the relics of San Catello.

The article also highlights Petagna’s rejection of the notion that religion and government belong to separate spheres. One of the most memorable passages declares:

“It is foolish wisdom that would have the interests of the State attended to before those of the Gospel; and it is madness to think that the exact observance of the latter’s precepts is incompatible with the principles of the former. It is to dishonor Religion, says St. Augustine, to believe that she ought not to be consulted in the government of empires.”

Likewise, Petagna argues that political stability ultimately rests upon moral virtue rather than administrative efficiency, observing that Rome itself fell not because it was “crushed by foreign arms, but because it had been consumed by domestic vices.” For Petagna, the decline of civilizations begins with moral decay long before military defeat.

De Antonellis rightly emphasizes that this vision represents a coherent philosophy rooted in both Greco-Roman political thought and Christian tradition. Petagna sees faith as the indispensable foundation of just rule.

The article also draws attention to Ferdinand II’s extensive public works, charitable initiatives, and reforms. Petagna praises the King’s patronage of science, education, commerce, industry, agriculture, and infrastructure, while also emphasizing his restoration of churches, support for religious orders, care for the poor, the establishment of charitable and vocational institutions, and his prompt assistance to those afflicted by hardship. Alongside these charitable works, Petagna notes that Ferdinand introduced “the first railways, steamships, gas lighting, and later the electric telegraph in Italy.” He also points to the mechanical works at Pietrarsa, the Naples dry dock, iron bridges, expanded ports, schools, and numerous public works as tangible expressions of the King’s commitment to the welfare of his kingdom.

De Antonellis concludes by explaining why this funeral oration remains relevant today. Beyond its rhetorical style, the work offers a perspective too often absent from modern accounts of the Bourbon monarchy. He argues that the oration preserves a vision long neglected by a historiography framed by the victors, reminding readers that important voices have often been overshadowed by later political narratives. He invokes a memorable reflection drawn from the Carlist tradition: No serán héroes anónimos ante Dios (“Before God, a hero is never anonymous”).

De Antonellis honors not only Ferdinand II but also Monsignor Petagna himself. He reminds readers that the Bishop chose exile rather than submission to those who had conquered his native kingdom, making his funeral oration not merely a tribute to a fallen monarch but also the testimony of a man who remained steadfast in his convictions.

More than a ceremonial tribute, Petagna’s funeral oration stands as a valuable primary source for understanding how one of Ferdinand II’s contemporaries conceived the relationship between faith, kingship, and public life. As De Antonellis demonstrates, it also conveys a neglected vision of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies rooted in Christian duty, moral government, charity, and institutional continuity.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 1st, Feast of St. Peter's Chains, with the Commemorations of St. Paul and the Holy Maccabees

Feast of Our Lady of the Snows at the Metropolitan Cathedral of St. Mary of the Assumption in San Francisco, California

My Blue Heaven: One Hundred Years of Napoli

To support Napoli is to understand that football is never just football. It is passion, fire, and mentality, a way of seeing the world.

We have known ecstasy and heartbreak, legends and lean years. We have celebrated Scudetti, mourned relegation, and stood by this club when others turned away. Through every triumph and every disappointment, one thing never changes: we remain.

Because Napoli is more than a team. It is the soul of a city that has given the world beauty, music, faith, and an unbreakable spirit. Every match is another chapter in a story that began in 1926 and continues wherever the Partenopei, the children of Naples, and their descendants carry the blue.

Today we celebrate one hundred years of history, and the promise that the next century will be written with the same passion.

For those who came before us.
For those who will come after us.
For Naples.

Forza Napoli, sempre!

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 31st, Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola

Glory, Pilgrimage, and the Shadow of Martyrdom

Santa Patrizia, ora pro nobis

Beneath shortening days
And fields heavy with fruit,
August calls the soul
From glory
To sacrifice,
For every crown
Must first pass through the Cross.

August stands at the summit of summer. The fields have yielded their fullness, the vineyards swell with promise, and the first hints of autumn begin to appear beneath the lingering heat. It is a month suspended between fulfillment and decline, reminding us that every earthly season, however radiant, carries within it the certainty of change.

On August 6th, the Church celebrates the Transfiguration of the Lord. Upon Mount Tabor, Christ reveals His divine glory to Peter, James, and John, allowing them to glimpse, however briefly, the splendor that lies beyond the Cross. The feast reminds the faithful that suffering is never the final word, but the path by which glory is attained.

The middle of the month brings the beginning of San Michele’s Lent on August 15th, forty days of prayer, fasting, and penance traditionally observed until the Feast of Saint Michael the Archangel on September 29th. At a time when the world is given over to leisure and abundance, the Church calls the faithful back to discipline, preparing the soul for the spiritual combat that belongs to every Christian life.

The following day honors San Rocco, the pilgrim and protector against plague. Remembered for his charity toward the sick and his willingness to share in their suffering, he became a powerful sign of hope during times of pestilence throughout Europe. His example reminds us that sanctity is measured not by comfort, but by compassionate endurance.

On August 25th, Naples celebrates Santa Patrizia, one of the city’s beloved patronesses. For centuries, the miraculous liquefaction of her blood has been revered as a sign of her continued intercession, joining her memory to the rich tradition of Neapolitan devotion in which the saints remain living guardians of their people.

As the month draws to a close, the Church commemorates the Beheading of San Giovanni Battista on August 29th. The Forerunner who proclaimed the coming of Christ now seals his testimony with his blood. His martyrdom stands as a solemn reminder that fidelity to truth often demands the ultimate sacrifice, and that the voice crying in the wilderness is not silenced by death.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 31st, Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola

The 137th Annual Feast of San Rocco at Most Precious Blood Church in Little Italy, New York

The Forge Beneath Etna

The Forge of Vulcan, ca. 1660, Luca Giordano

Beneath Etna’s ancient slopes
Burned the hidden forge of
    Hephaestus,
Divine smith of gods and
    heroes,
Where bronze-skinned
    Cyclopes
Toiled without end.

Amid rivers of living fire
And showers of blazing sparks,
The weapons of heaven were
    wrought
Upon anvils older than time.

Each trembling of the
    mountain,
The ringing of immortal
    hammers;
Each torrent of flame,
The breath of the eternal
    furnace
Breaking forth into the
    world of men.

Upcoming Art Exhibitions in New York City (2026–2027)

The Temptation and Fall of Eve, 1808, William Blake

For readers planning a visit to New York City, the following exhibitions promise an exceptional opportunity to experience some of the finest works of European art, history, and culture.

The Morgan Library & Museum

• Rembrandt’s Lions: Art and Exile in the Dutch Republic
  October 23, 2026 – January 31, 2027
• Fantasy and Reality: The Art of Johan Tobias Sergel
  October 30, 2026 – January 31, 2027
• Graphic Devotions: Late Medieval European Blockbooks
  November 6, 2026 – May 16, 2027
• William Blake: Paradise Lost
  February 26 – May 23, 2027

Madonna and Child, ca. 1470-75, Andrea della Robbia

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

• Rediscovering Della Robbia at The Met
  August 10, 2026 – January 17, 2028
• A King’s Carpet: Louis XIV and the Savonnerie
  September 8, 2026 – March 5, 2028

Lamentation at the Foot of the Cross,
ca. 1475, Francesco di Giorgio

The Frick Collection

• Siena: The Art of Bronze, 1450–1500
  October 15, 2026 – January 18, 2027

Institute For the Study of the Ancient World

• Cursed! The Power of Magic in the Ancient World
  September 17, 2026 – December 13, 2026

The Discipline of Joy

El Jaleo, 1882, John Singer Sargent

Last week I found myself at a small tapas bar. A carafe of sangría roja rested on the table while the sound of a Spanish guitar filled the room. Before long, a gracile flamenco dancer, arrayed in traditional Andalusian dress, emerged, her movements alternating between quiet restraint and fiery intensity, accompanied by rhythmic clapping and song.

As I watched, I found myself unexpectedly transported back to high school, when I was dating a young Valencian señorita named Gavi. It was she who first introduced me to flamenco, a tradition that I came to admire for its passion, elegance, and tragic beauty. Hearing those familiar rhythms again brought back more than memories of youth. They reminded me that certain places, sounds, and customs remain with us long after the years have passed.

The evening also reminded me that there is nothing contradictory about enjoying such moments while believing that life demands discipline, sacrifice, and courage. Too often we are presented with a false choice. Either we surrender ourselves to comfort, entertainment, and endless pleasure, or we become dour ascetics who regard every earthly delight with suspicion. Neither vision strikes me as complete.

A man should be capable of delighting in beauty without becoming enslaved to it. He should appreciate good wine, fine music, lively conversation, and the company of friends, not because they are life’s highest purpose, but because they are among its genuine goods. To enjoy them gratefully while remaining inwardly free is a mark of maturity rather than indulgence.

The older Mediterranean ideal understood this well. It expected a man to cultivate both fortitude and refinement, to bear hardship without complaint while never losing his appreciation for art, hospitality, and the simple pleasures that make civilization worth preserving. Such a man does not flee the tragic dimension of life, nor does he allow it to extinguish his joy. He accepts both.

Perhaps that is why flamenco seemed so fitting. It is passionate without affectation, exuberant without frivolity. Beneath its beauty lies struggle, longing, pride, and endurance. It does not pretend suffering does not exist; it transforms it into something noble.

I left with no grand revelation, only a gentle reminder that strength need not be joyless, and that gratitude for life’s fleeting beauties is entirely compatible with an awareness of its hardships. Indeed, it may be one of the surest signs that a man has learned not merely to endure life, but to live it well.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 29th, Feast of San Lupo di Troyes

Excerpt from The Monarchy and its Attributes by Juan Vázquez de Mella

Juan Vásquez de Mella y Fanjul
(8 June 1861—26 February 1928)

Revolutionary fever may indeed seize the soul and the social body, stirring up deceptive hallucinations in the mind and rebellious appetites in the subjugated will; yet, floating triumphantly above this deluge of error, the holy ark of the Church will bear safely all the great principles of civilization—and, consequently, the Christian Monarchy, through whose ministry that civilization was established in Europe and spread throughout the world. Let sophistries and theories arise in anger, inverting the terms of pagan Caesarism—placing within the collective, as an inalienable right, what the latter fixed as a power inherent in the person of Caesar—and the result will always be the same: under the sovereignty of the people no less than under the sovereignty of Caesar, tyranny merely changes its name and its seat. Yet even if its nature changes—whether through corrupt courtiers who bind the sovereign’s will to their own whims or through representatives who substitute their own will for the supposed will of the people—despotism, whether descending from above or ascending from below, will always cause justice to groan beneath its iron heel.

Thus, when the fever breaks and the waters recede to their original channel, the Christian Monarchy re-emerges from the revolutionary sands like a green oasis; beneath its luxuriant foliage, those who have survived the simoom and the storm may renew their shattered strength and withered health.

Translation by the editor. Excerpt from "La Monarquía y Sus Atributos—Cristiana, Personal," El Correo Español, 6 de enero de 1894; published in Juan Vásquez de Mella, Textos de Doctrina Política, Preliminary Study, Selections and Notes by Rafael Gambra, Madrid, 1953, p.42.

Feast of St. Dominic at St. Mary of Mt. Virgin Church in New Brunswick, New Jersey

The Timeless Rhythms of the Heavens

A European (skull) mount of a buck,
 recalling the Buck Moon and the
ancient symbolism of renewal

Udremo a notte le sue lunghe muggia, udremo la voce sua di toro;
sorgerà il grido della sua lussuria
udremo nei silenzi della luna.

At night we will hear his long bellows, we will hear his voice like a bull’s;
the cry of his lust will rise;
we will hear it in the silences of the moon.
~ Gabriele D’Annunzio, Il Cervo

July has always seemed to me the most haunted month of summer. The sun still reigns over the earth by day, but the nights grow deeper and more mysterious, as though the heavens themselves were preparing for autumn’s long descent into darkness.

The month has already offered several quiet spectacles. On July 11th, Mars appeared beside the waning Moon and the ancient stars of the Pleiades in the predawn sky, an austere conjunction that recalled the firmament's timeless order. A few evenings later, on July 16th and 17th, brilliant Venus drew close to the slender crescent Moon in the western sky, creating one of the month’s most beautiful pairings before slipping back into the gathering darkness.

Yet some of July’s greatest mysteries still lie ahead.

Between the nights of July 28th and 30th, the Southern Delta Aquariid meteor shower will send ghostly streaks of light across the southern sky. Less brilliant than the famous Perseids, these meteors possess a gentler beauty, appearing like silent embers cast from some unseen celestial fire.

Then, on the night of July 29th, the full Buck Moon will rise.

Named for the season when the stag regrows his antlers, the Buck Moon has long been associated with strength, renewal, and the untamed wilderness. Other traditions know it as the Thunder Moon, the Hay Moon, or the Mead Moon, preserving memories of storms, harvests, and ancient midsummer feasts.

For Christians, the symbolism runs even deeper. The moon has long represented the Blessed Virgin Mary, reflecting not her own light but that of her Divine Son. The stag likewise recalls Christ, who tramples the serpent beneath His feet and leads the faithful toward the sacred waters of eternal life. The annual shedding and renewal of the stag’s antlers has long served as an allegory of resurrection and new life.

As the month draws toward its close, keep watch upon the night sky. Watch for the silent fall of meteors, and when the Buck Moon rises above the horizon, remember the poets who found voices in its silence.

Luna d’argiento, lass’ ’o sunnà,
vaselo ’nfronte, nun ’o sceta…

Silver moon, let him dream,
kiss his brow, do not wake him…
~ Salvatore Di Giacomo, Luna Nova

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 27th, Feast of San Pantaleone

Remembering Her Imperial and Royal Highness Luisa Maria, Grand Duchess of Tuscany and Archduchess of Austria

Photo courtesy of the Grand
Ducal House of Tuscany

Today, we commemorate the birthday of Her Imperial and Royal Highness Luisa Maria, Grand Duchess of Tuscany and Archduchess of Austria. Born a Princess of Naples and Sicily on 27 July 1773, she was the daughter of King Ferdinand IV of Naples and III of Sicily (later Ferdinand I of the Two Sicilies) and Queen Maria Carolina of Austria. Through her marriage to Ferdinand III, Grand Duke of Tuscany, she became Grand Duchess of Tuscany and Archduchess of Austria. As consort during the upheavals of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic era, and as the mother of the future Leopold II, Grand Duke of Tuscany, she holds an enduring place in the history of the Grand Ducal House of Tuscany.

On this anniversary of her birth, let us remember Her Imperial and Royal Highness with gratitude and pray for the repose of her soul.

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Photo of the Week: Terpsichore, Muse of Dance, Playing a Lyre, Vatican Museums

Marble sculpture of Terpsichore, Muse of Dance, playing a lyre,
1st century A.D., Vatican Museums. Photo by New York Scugnizzo

New Book — The Neapolitan Enlightenment: Science, Medicine, and the Exchange of Knowledge

A forthcoming title that may be of interest to our readers. Available at Amazon.com

• The Neapolitan Enlightenment: Science, Medicine, and the Exchange of Knowledge by Donato Verardi

Publisher: Anthem Press
Pub. Date: November 3, 2026
Hardcover: $110.00
Language: English
Pages: 250

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New Kindle Edition — The Two Sicilies in the Americas

A new title that may be of interest to our readers. Available at Amazon.com

• The Two Sicilies in the Americas by Lucio Militano

Publisher: Editoriale il Giglio
Pub. Date: July 14, 2026
Kindle: $6.00
Language: English
File size: 5.2 MB

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Requiem Mass at the Pontifical Shrine of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel in East Harlem, New York

Andrés Segovia and the Mediterranean Soul

Andrés Segovia (1893-1987)

A recent conversation about classical guitar led me back to Andrés Segovia. The discussion began with music, but it soon wandered elsewhere. The more I thought about Segovia, the more he seemed to embody something larger than Spain alone.

Born in Andalusia, Andrés Segovia was formed by a Mediterranean civilization shaped over millennia—a world forged by Rome, Catholicism, regional memory, and the enduring belief that beauty possesses moral and civilizing power. Southern Spain and Southern Italy shared centuries of intertwined history. Even their musical traditions developed with striking similarities: lyrical melancholy, devotional piety, folk memory, and a profound attachment to locality.

Segovia understood the guitar not as a fashionable instrument, but as something noble and worthy of the highest artistic tradition. Before him, the guitar was still widely regarded as popular or folkloric. Through discipline and mastery, he elevated the guitar to unprecedented prominence in the concert hall and transformed it into a vehicle for serious art. In this sense, his work recalls the older southern Italian efforts to preserve inherited forms against the flattening pressures of modernity.

Southern Italy possessed its own rich tradition of plucked-string music: the mandolins of Naples, the chitarra battente of Calabria, and the legacy of great composers such as Mauro Giuliani and Ferdinando Carulli. Like Giuliani and Carulli, Segovia treated the instrument with reverence rather than novelty, seeking depth, restraint, and spiritual seriousness over spectacle.

Listening to Segovia today, one hears more than technical mastery. One hears the lingering voice of an older Mediterranean world, whose ideals of beauty, discipline, and reverence have not entirely vanished. For that reason, Segovia belongs not only to Spain, but to the enduring Mediterranean soul.

~ By Giovanni Di Napoli, July 24th, Feasts of the Blessed Martyrs of Daimiel, the Blessed Carmelite Martyrs of Guadalajara, Blessed Maria Mercedes, and Blessed Xavier Bordas

Graziella

Graziella, 1879, Jules-Joseph Lefebvre

Graziella gave her heart to a young stranger from a distant land.
While mending her grandfather’s net beneath the shadow of Vesuvius,
Their love blossomed beside the sea.
Yet fate proved stronger than youthful devotion,
And the day came when her beloved was compelled to depart.
Left alone upon the shore, she waited in hope and sorrow,
Her gaze fixed upon the horizon that would never return him.
At last, hope yielded to grief,
And she withered like a flower upon the Siren’s Bay

New Book — Kingdom of the Two Sicilies: When the Sicilies Were Two

A new title that may be of interest to our readers. Available at Amazon.com

• Kingdom of the Two Sicilies: When the Sicilies Were Two by Antonio Garrisi

Publisher: Independently published
Pub. Date: February 21, 2025
Hardcover: $28.00
Softcover: $18.00
Kindle: $3.00
Language: English
Pages: 118

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Celebrating the Feast of Santa Maria Maddalena

Santa Maria Maddalena, ora pro nobis

On Wednesday evening, a few close friends and I celebrated the Feast of Santa Maria Maddalena. We began, as every Christian feast should, at Holy Mass before gathering afterward for dinner at a small Spanish restaurant.

For many, Santa Maria Maddalena is best remembered for her conversion and unwavering devotion to Christ. For me, she is one of my personal patrons, reminding me that no past is beyond God’s mercy and that even the most wayward soul may be transformed through prayer, penance, and grace.

The evening itself was simple, filled with good food, good wine, and the company of dear friends. While far removed from her ascetic life, it was nevertheless an opportunity to honor our glorious patroness, to reflect upon her example, and to give thanks for the grace that continually calls each of us to conversion. Evviva Santa Maria Maddalena!

~ BY Giovanni di Napoli, July 23rd, Feasts of St. Apollinaris and St. Liborius

Pulpo a Féira

Chorizos Al Infierno

Arroz Caldoso

The Ghosts That Remain

Pessoa drinking wine in a tavern, 1929

“What we see is not what we see, but what we are.” ~ Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

Fernando Pessoa once viewed the world from the western edge of Europe through the lens of saudade, the uniquely Portuguese longing for what has been lost or can never fully be regained. Although his reflections were deeply personal rather than historical, they resonate in lands where successive civilizations have left their mark.

In this, I find an unexpected kinship with Southern Italy.

The Mezzogiorno is a land where history is never entirely past. The temples of Magna Graecia, Roman roads, Byzantine churches, Norman towers, Aragonese castles, and Bourbon palaces remind us that political power fades, while civilizations leave behind something more enduring than kingdoms. One does not merely study history there; one walks through it.

Perhaps this is why I find Pessoa’s reflections so compelling. Both Portugal and Southern Italy know what it means to inherit greatness. Their storied landscapes are inhabited not only by monuments, but by the ghosts of the civilizations that created them. Those ghosts still speak to anyone willing to listen.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 23rd, Feasts of Saints Apollinaris and Liborius

Why I Won’t Be Reviewing The Odyssey (2026)

Ulysses deriding Polyphemus, 1829, J.M.W. Turner

Several friends were genuinely surprised when I told them I had absolutely no interest in seeing Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey (2026). Given my lifelong love of mythology, fantasy, and science fiction, they assumed it would be at the top of my list. In a saner age, they would probably be right.

Unfortunately, we no longer live in that world. We live in a cultural landscape that gave us The Rings of Power, where beloved myths are routinely stripped of their spirit and rebuilt according to modern ideological fashions. I have too much love and respect for Homer to spend my time or money on what appears to be another exercise in the same destructive impulse.

The casting choices and costume design were enough to make me skeptical from the beginning. However, reports that the film embraces modern dialogue and contemporary political framing removed any lingering curiosity. I do not need to see it to know it is not the Odyssey I want.

What surprised me most is how much faith people place in Christopher Nolan. Apparently, his name alone is enough to draw audiences into theaters. I confess I do not understand the reverence. Of his thirteen feature films, I have only seen Dunkirk (2017) and the Dark Knight trilogy. None left much of an impression on me. I considered watching Oppenheimer (2023), but never got around to it, and I remain in no hurry.

I also have no interest in participating in the endless online culture war surrounding this film.

I’d rather revisit films that still understand wonder without apology: The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973), Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), Clash of the Titans (1981), Excalibur (1981), and Conan the Barbarian (1982). Those films remain magical because they approached myth with reverence, imagination, and sincerity. They invited audiences into legendary worlds rather than dragging those worlds into the fashions and preoccupations of the present.

As for new releases, the only films I am genuinely looking forward to this year are I Play Rocky (2026), Godzilla Minus Zero (2026), and Robert Eggers’ Werwulf (2026).

There will be no review of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey here. Some films are simply not worth three hours of my life.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 22nd, Feast Day of Santa Maria Maddalena