Come Robinet sposò Robinette

A topsy-turvy marriage farce shot through with Méliès-style trickery and Chaplin-adjacent slapstick, Come Robinet sposò Robinette opens on a sun-splashed piazza where Robinet—spring-heeled, derby-tilted, moustache waxed to weaponized points—learns that bachelorhood is a terminal condition and that his sweetheart Robinette has accepted an ultimatum from her bourgeois paterfamilias: wed by dusk or be shipped to a convent. What follows is a breathless relay of prenuptial catastrophes: a runaway priest who skateboards down cathedral steps on a communion tray; a wedding cake rigged with firecrackers that detonates mid-ceremony, catapulting marzipan into the frescoed heavens; a best-man goat that chews the marriage certificate into confetti; and a climactic, gravity-defying chase across laundry lines where veils, bloomers and bridal garter belts billow like semaphore flags against the Ligurian sky. Perez’s Robinet ricochets from suitor to saboteur to accidental hero, while Baracchi’s Robinette pirouettes from obedient daughter to anarchic accomplice, their union ultimately sealed not by ecclesiastical ink but by mutual mayhem and the shared epiphany that love, like cinema, is most alive when it refuses to behave.