Das süße Leben

Mostly because of the terrific high contrast, B&W visuals, and the evocative music, this is the only Fellini film I have seen that I have somewhat enjoyed. I recommend it, but not without reservations. It's a complex film with many textured layers of meaning. And, in typical Fellini fashion, it rambles and it meanders.

Deviating from standard three-Act structure, Fellini's story consists of roughly eight episodes, all starting at night and ending at dawn, more or less. Each has its own crisis. And the only thing that unites these episodes into a coherent whole is the story's protagonist, Marcello (Marcello Mastroianni). In his job as a journalist and overall observer of human nature, Marcello encounters people in high society who seem outwardly happy and self-fulfilled. On closer examination, however, these people are empty, hollow, alienated, emotionally adrift and vacant.

A good example is the starlet Sylvia (Anita Ekberg), a glamorous figure, but she's all image and no substance. "La dolce vita" is the first film that uses the concept of "paparazzi", which implies the importance of "image", separate from substance.

Throughout the various episodes Marcello sees these "images" of happiness, of contentment, but the images are deceptive, elusive, unreliable. In one episode, two "miracle" children "see" the Madonna. "The Madonna is over there", shouts one child. The crowd chases after her. But the other child who "sees" the Madonna runs in the opposite direction. Happiness, self-fulfillment, religious visions ... they're all a will-o'-the-wisp. And so, the film conveys a sense of pessimism and cynicism.

The film thus has deep thematic value. It caused a scandal when it was released, and was banned by the Catholic Church, apparently for appearing to be anti-religious.

Yet for all its deep meaning, "La dolce vita" can be a trial to sit through. Somewhere in the second half I began to lose interest. I don't have a problem with Fellini's deviation from standard plot structure. I do have a problem with a director who doesn't know when to quit. This film goes on for almost three hours. A good edit, to delete all the fat, would have tightened up the story and rendered it more potent. As is, it's too strung out, too stretched, too meandering.

If the viewer can persevere, there's enormous cinematic art in this film. And helped along by Nino Rota's music, the film is wonderfully evocative, at times stylishly melancholy.

There really isnt a plot. This is about a tabloid photographer and some scenarios he gets into. All the characters seem vain, selfish and wanting more from life without actually knowing what they want. The Rome nightlife is brought to life here and there are many scenes at lavish parties where all the characters dont appear to have any emotional connection to one another. There are also disconnected Catholic themes throughout the movie. It leaves you questioning your own life and emptiness.

Federico Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" transcends the boundaries of conventional cinema, presenting itself as an immersive odyssey that delves into the decadence of Rome's privileged class amidst Italy's post-war economic resurgence. It offers a poignant discourse on the complexities of human existence, woven into the fabric of its narrative.

The film, shot beautifully in black and white, unfolds over seven decadent and disjointed episodes. At its center is Marcello Rubini (played by Marcello Mastroianni), a hedonistic journalist who navigates the labyrinth of Rome's high society, constantly torn between the pursuit of serious literature and the allure of trivial journalism. The episodic structure allows Fellini to weave a rich tapestry of characters and incidents, all of which add to the decadence and the gradual moral decline that is "la dolce vita".

One cannot talk about "La Dolce Vita" without mentioning its iconic Trevi Fountain scene. Anita Ekberg, playing the vivacious actress Sylvia, steps into the fountain with complete abandon, and in doing so, becomes the embodiment of a carefree, unattainable ideal. Marcello's attempts to join her and his eventual failure is symbolic of his constant struggle to attain fulfillment, mirroring the film's larger theme of the fruitless pursuit of happiness in a world that equates it with decadence.

Fellini cleverly uses a blend of surrealism and neo-realism to convey the superficial allure of the hedonistic lifestyle. The luxurious parties, the flippant attitudes, and the grandeur of Rome itself are contrasted starkly with the characters' internal void and loneliness. This duality is personified in Marcello, whose transformation from an ambitious writer to a frivolous gossip columnist is both tragic and unsettling.

The most remarkable aspect of "La Dolce Vita" is arguably the poignant ending. Marcello, now a part of the world he once viewed with a mix of fascination and contempt, witnesses a grotesque sea creature being hauled onto the shore. The creature, monstrous and out of place, symbolizes the death of innocence and Marcello's final surrender to the 'sweet life'. The ending of this story is left unresolved, provoking us to contemplate our own quests for contentment. The feeling of emptiness and hollowness it incites makes us think deeply about our pursuit of happiness.

One must not overlook Fellini's mastery over the medium of cinema when discussing "La Dolce Vita". His stylistic prowess, characterized by long, meandering takes and a persistent undertone of surrealism, encapsulates the viewer in the film's world. The cinematography elegantly captures the splendor and squalor of Rome, while its iconic score by Nino Rota perfectly complements the visual narrative. Together, they create an immersive atmosphere that blurs the boundary between reality and illusion, much like the lives of the characters on screen.

Furthermore, Fellini's use of religious and mythological symbolism adds a layer of depth to the narrative. He draws parallels between Marcello's journey and Dante's "Divine Comedy," subtly suggesting a descent into a modern, urban Hell characterized by superficiality and debauchery. Iconic scenes, like the statue of Christ being flown over Rome, bring a sense of irony and critique, underscoring the clash between traditional values and the emerging, materialistic culture.

The film's ensemble cast is worth noting, each bringing their character to life with stunning authenticity. The performances are all commendable, but it is Marcello Mastroianni's nuanced portrayal of Marcello that truly anchors the film. Mastroianni embodies the charisma and inner conflict of his character with such finesse that his struggles become palpable, and his moral decline is both believable and deeply affecting.

Moreover, Fellini takes a critical look at the role of media, a theme that feels incredibly relevant even today. Marcello's journalistic exploits are shown as invasive and unethical, often leading to tragic outcomes. The film takes jabs at the sensationalism that often overshadows the pursuit of truth in journalism, highlighting how it contributes to the moral degradation of society.

Overall, "La Dolce Vita" goes beyond its surface-level portrayal of a glamorous yet hollow lifestyle. It serves as a cautionary tale, a sociopolitical critique, and a philosophical exploration of life's meaning. Fellini's deft handling of complex themes and his innovative narrative and visual techniques have cemented "La Dolce Vita" as an enduring piece of cinematic art. It is not just a film, but a mirror held up to society, reflecting its allure and its flaws with equal clarity.

In the pantheon of cinematic masterpieces, Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" stands as a timeless testament to the power of storytelling. It skillfully interweaves a tale of moral struggle, societal critique, and philosophical exploration of life's meaning in a changing world, with Marcello Mastroianni's tour de force performance at its heart.

Fellini's stylistic mastery over the medium, marked by long, wandering takes and a subtle undertone of surrealism, engulfs the viewer in the film's world. The splendor and squalor of Rome are captured elegantly by the cinematography, mirrored by Nino Rota's iconic score, which provides an aural landscape as complex and compelling as the visual one. Together, they generate an atmospheric blur between reality and illusion, echoing the lives of the characters within.

It is within this context that Marcello Mastroianni delivers a captivating performance. As Marcello Rubini, Mastroianni becomes a figure emblematic of modern dilemmas - a man torn between professional ambition and personal ennui, between hedonistic pleasure and spiritual fulfillment. His nuanced performance creates a Marcello who is at once charismatic and confounding, inviting both empathy and critique from the audience. Mastroianni's finesse in embodying this inner conflict and moral decline anchors the film, making Marcello's struggles palpable and his eventual descent into emptiness deeply affecting.

Fellini's profound use of religious and mythological symbolism further deepens the narrative. References to Dante's "Divine Comedy" subtly draw a parallel between Marcello's journey and a descent into a modern, urban Hell defined by superficiality and moral decay. Ironical images, like the statue of Christ flown over Rome, underscore the clash between traditional values and the emerging culture of materialism.

Not to be overlooked is Fellini's sharp critique of media's role. Portraying Marcello's journalistic ventures as intrusive and unethical, the film highlights the potentially damaging effects of sensationalism overshadowing the pursuit of truth - a commentary that remains remarkably relevant today.

"La Dolce Vita" thus transcends its portrayal of a glitzy yet hollow lifestyle to deliver a cautionary tale that resonates on multiple levels. The film's enduring appeal lies not only in Fellini's innovative narrative and visual techniques but also in the strength of performances, most notably Mastroianni's. In its entirety, "La Dolce Vita" remains not just a film, but a reflective surface for society, casting both its allure and its flaws into sharp relief.

In conclusion, Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" is a timeless masterpiece. It masterfully intertwines imagery, symbolism, and narrative to create a commentary on the emptiness of excess and the illusion of fulfillment. This movie does more than just entertain; it encourages deep thinking and introspection, making it a truly one-of-a-kind experience. Its capacity to stimulate meaningful thinking is its true strength. It takes you on an exploration into humanity's innermost motivations and dissatisfactions.

When it comes to art, the best one can do is receive it with grace, measure it against one's soul and if one is so inclined, speak from the heart about it. That's the only thing that matters, all else falling away. Comments about the execution are irrelevant, really. If someone talks about that, it isn't from their heart and doesn't really matter. This is excellently executed, but with art the only demand is that it cross a threshold of competence, making it close enough for us to reach. All else is decoration. Read elsewhere for comments on the decorative qualities of this.

I'll start from the end. I recommend you see this because it is a necessary launching ramp for "8 1/2." I believe that film is essential viewing for any citizen of the world, and to get it, you have to sit through this. Its roughly the same shape: Fellini himself, an empty and artless man posing as an artist who can only place himself in a definition of emptiness defined by the seven types of women.

In this world — a convincing one — women define the world by their being, and all spaces — physical spaces I mean — are carried by them into existence. Men merely stand between surrounding walls and the woman who made them whether she is present or not. When strained through the cloth of cinema, we have something like this film. (I wish some Japanese filmmaker would do for this what "H Story" did to "Hiroshima Mon Amore" but in Barcelona.)

So it is a competent film, even decorative. It is art, and for reasons beyond itself, you should see it.

But it doesn't measure well against my soul. Nor famously did it against Fellini's, which is why, after a celebrated crisis, he developed a different style for his next films. I suppose it is true that you could see this as about the bankruptcy of Roman aristocrats, or about more general bankruptcy of men. But I see it as about Fellini's own self inflicted, selfaware malaise.

But why is this one recommended to be rejected and the later one valued? Because of the cinematic form, dear friends. That's all that matters. Usually this form is considered realistic or neorealistic and the later films fantastic surreal. I think we can do better than that. The "neorealistic" films are composed by a self that stands outside. It sees and reports. It sees and judges; this is a film that assumes judgment. Its an essay, "explained" because both the filmmaker and the viewer stand outside it. Even the edges of the frame are perfectly placed, so as to remind us of the window we peer through.

"8 1/2" and his other project I admire ("Block-notes di un regista") have the filmmaker distinctly in the thing. The edges shift. We are invited in. Some things aren't clear, what we encounter hasn't been filtered to make sense for us. Its a party, but not one the camera understands, so we are in the midst of the battle instead of observing the party.

So if it is art you come for, you won't find it here unless you think competent decoration and impressive effect matter. What matters is whether the artist's blood mingles with ours, and Fellini didn't bleed until after this, probably because of this. Later, he did add that girl at the beach so his types of women total 8. I suppose you need to see this, then "8 1/2," then Greenaway's "8 1/2 Women."

It may not be the best way to capture a film, by bracketing it somehow. But it works for me in this case. This is just a bracket.

+++++++

One could say things about many of the characters and performances, and I cannot resist mentioning one: Nico. In the next to last segment, she plays a top model engaged to a royal nitwit. We gather at his castle and go ghost-hunting where we are given the woman-outside- the-walls story. This was when she really was a top model and before she became Andy Warhol's primary avatar in the world. She originated the "Gothic" look copied by millions of girl misfits. She reinvented a form of sultry singing (then newly in rock) that turns the notion of this movie inside out: deliberately soulless and therefore attractive.

This film also brackets her amazing glow as the Chelsea Girl. THE Chelsea Girl.

You should know about her. She had a real life. We all live in the ashes, unbeknownst.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

LA DOLCE VITA presents a series of incidents in the life of Roman tabloid reporter Marcello Rubini (Marcello Mastroianni)--and although each incident is very different in content they create a portrait of an intelligent but superficial man who is gradually consumed by "the sweet life" of wealth, celebrity, and self-indulgence he reports on and which he has come to crave.

Although the film seems to be making a negative statement about self-indulgence that leads to self-loathing, Fellini also gives the viewer plenty of room to act as interpreter, and he cleverly plays one theme against its antithesis throughout the film. (The suffocation of monogamy vs. the meaninglessness of promiscuity and sincere religious belief vs. manipulative hypocrisy are but two of the most obvious juxtapositions.) But Fellini's most remarkable effect here is his ability to keep us interested in the largely unsympathetic characters LA DOLCE VITA presents: a few are naive to the point of stupidity; most are vapid; the majority (including the leads) are unspeakably shallow--and yet they still hold our interest over the course of this three hour film.

The cast is superior, with Marcello Mastroianni's personal charm particularly powerful. As usual with Fellini, there is a lot to look at on the screen: although he hasn't dropped into the wild surrealism for which he was sometimes known, there are quite a few surrealistic flourishes and visual ironies aplenty--the latter most often supplied by the hordes of photographers that scuttle after the leading characters much like cockroaches in search of crumbs. For many years available to the home market in pan-and-scan only, the film is now in a letterbox release that makes it all the more effective. Strongly recommended.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer