"The Betrothed"

In the comments to my "Mickey's Inferno" post, an anonymous commenter linked to this, which is this. It's a very early Guido-Martina-penned story; it's interesting for a number of reasons, the first of which is that, for unclear reasons, it's bilingual in Italian and a rough approximation of English. So let's take a look, shall we?

This is based on an 1827 novel, Alessandro Manzoni's I promessi sposi, which is apparently a huge cultural touchstone on Italy, but I must admit, even as a big reader, I'd never heard of it until now (the English translation is called The Betrothed, which not only sounds better but seems to be more accurate than "the promised spouses," given that they're not yet married). But now I actually kind of want to read it, not for any reason having to do with this comic, but just because it looks interesting. Note, however, that we're talking about a seven-hundred-plus-page novel condensed to a two-page comic, so if you're a huge Manzoni fan, I would not expect to find many plot points from the book herein.

What with that title card done up to look like the opening of a movie, I wonder if the English dialogue might be there because Disney was primarily associated with Hollywood movies in Martina's head and he was trying to mimic those. Though given that it's an Italian novel, the messages seem kinda mixed. Do you think Martina did the translation himself? I must say, these days anyone could do a better job just with a straight google translate translation.

Oh yeah, another weird thing here is that the story is bordered on both sides by this calendar. But I don't know if that's actually related to the story in any way, or if it was just a convention of Albi d'Oro (the pre-Topolino publication where this appeared--which also featured a teaser spread for the upcoming "Mickey's Inferno").

Other odd thing is that this features stolen (okay, let's say...repurposed) art from Gottfredson, Manuel Gonzales, and Enrico Pinochi (who did the art for a number of Federico Pedrocchi stories). I'm not versed enough to recognize what part is by who, but it's probably why the art doesn't always seem to match the dialogue. Like, why is Clarabelle scowling here?

Also, what the heck is that song she's meant to be singing? There's no Italian version, so we can't even look back to try to see what it's a mangled version of. You can do a google search for "Theresa" and "Erbett," but you will come up empty.  Anyone who knows what it's supposed to be, please let me know.

Please enjoy this passionate romance. One thing you will learn when studying a foreign language is that just because two words come from the same root or appear to, they don't necessarily mean the same thing. For instance, both English-speakers learning French and French-speakers learning English must learn that "actuellement" does not mean "actually." Anyway, that's how we get "what a sympathetic guy" here.

One of the great love stories of our time, or any time. Really. I don't know what else to say.

Oh no! Pete! Why is he holding what appears to be a snapped-off broom handle in the first panel? Because this art is from who knows where! Why does he object to the wedding? For reasons not even vaguely hinted at! OMG!

So, Goofy contemplates suicide. Well hell, Mickey did the same in Gottfredson, so there's precedent. I get the seeming gibberish of the pun; the problem is, in English we don't generally think of lakes as having "branches." It would work a lot better if it was a river. I don't know what kind of weirdass lakes you have in Italy.

Well, never mind; turns out Pete died of plague (or "pest"). I do enjoy that. Obviously, Martina had no thought here of any kind of continuity for these characters.

Dammit. Well, fair enough--can't forget about Horace. You know, if this whole thing was completely different and better-translated, we could get some real pathos up in here. But alas, it is what it is.

So anyway, then Goofy lands a plane in a pond and dies (I can only assume)  The end.  I assume this is a "Leader of the Pack"-type situation?  Given that the novel is from 1827, you have to question the textual fidelity here ("oh, that's the only reason for that, is it?).

I dunno. That might be about all there is to say about that. A silly and totally frivolous oddity, but given that it'll probably take less than a minute to read the whole thing, you might as well check it out.