La dulce vida

(first of all, sorry my poor english) Who, in this entire world, drunk as a horse in the middle of the night, never discovered the meaning of life, that it can be so easy and joyfull that hurts. This happens with a certain frequency. The big problem is, after all that, to face all the thoughts and conclusions in a sober monday morning, when everything is just real, concious and above all that sincere. This is the the big question and problem of Marcello Rubini, a reporter of a gossip magazines who has to deal with the fact that he tastes the same poison he spreads by leaving in a group of people which he sucks his living.

In a moment he is directing his papparazzi and, in the next, he is running away from them. He flows between all kinds of social circles and the only impression he gives is that it doesnt matter what kind of craziness you are getting into everything is a big cliché. From the mainstream world of a gorgeous actress who feels able to express opinions about everything (and we buy it), passing throught the religious world of the faith, and also an intellectual circle that gives a fake impression of freedom, everything turns out to be an escape. That blonde girl appears as a stroke of pureness and sincereness, something we should really look for, but we just dont. In the case of Marcello's life, writing is the solutions he always substitute for vain experiences. Something he likes and that he needs a young girl to tell him that. That litlle cute girl is a person Marcello would like to be, someone who faces the soberty of a monday morning with hopeness and happiness.

A masterpiece.

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.

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

I just saw a new print of this wonderful film after not having seen it for maybe 20 years and it is still spellbinding. Fellini sums up an era and an attitude here, and succeeds in doing something that ought to be impossible: he makes a full and meaningful film about empty and meaningless lives. Mastroianni seems to have been to Fellini what DeNiro has been to Scorsese--a perfect embodiment of a personal vision. What a wonderful actor he was--brilliant in his youth and in his age. Many other performers are hardly less fine here, and the cinematography and composition are stunning throughout. There are so many indelible images from this film, images that have become iconic over the decades: Ekberg in the Fontana di Trevi, the statue of Christ flying over Rome, the astonishing, candlelit procession at the castle, to name a few. It seems plot less and yet it isn't plot less at all; Marcello's ultimately fruitless search for meaning, a search that he abandons in the end, as he stares across a slight and yet unbridgable abyss on the beach at a lovely young girl who seems to possess the knowledge and understanding that is denied to him. I'm astonished at the number of people who don't get this movie, who seem to think that Fellini expects us to admire the bizarre characters who people the film, or who think that a movie about worthless individuals must be a worthless movie, or who don't seem to understand that movies that are full of what become clichés usually do so because they capture an important vision. Fellini made several exceptional films: 81/2, La Strada, Amarcord, and The Nights of Cabiria come to mind, but La Dolce Vita may be, when all is said and done, his masterwork.

Returning to this film after many years, I was mesmerized for its entire three hours and could have stuck with it for even longer. More than just a parade of degenerate Sixties Eurotrash, all of human life is captured in these frames, from prostitutes living in flooded slum apartments to glittering nobility in their crumbling castles.

The common thread is the thoroughly captivating Marcello Mastroianni as the gossip columnist/aspiring novelist, later turned burned-out publicist. His relationship with the parade of females who inhabit his world, often fleetingly, is nuanced and authentic feeling, while the episode with his father, who shows up for an unexpected visit, is a delight that brought a wide smile to my face.

The unique, episodic structure of the film feels neither showy nor forced, and the film moves through its segments with the natural grace of a great symphony.

An added bonus for me was seeing a young Nico of Velvet Underground fame , looking relaxed and happy. Would that things always turned out that way for her.

In sum, a totally unique tour de force and, unquestionably, one of the greatest achievements in cinematic history.