8½

I know this film is loved and admired by countless filmmakers and fans. I know that the film is very artistic and wonderfully well made. And I understand that all serious lovers of film SHOULD see this film. But, despite this being a "must-see" film, I didn't particularly enjoy it--but I do respect what Fellini was trying to do. For the first time, Fellini was able to capture on film the psyche and inner turmoil of a director and although the film stars Marcello Mastroianni, the film is in many, many ways autobiographical. His inner struggles with traditional morality and god, sexuality and loyalty, all the sycophants trying to get his attention and the critic as well as his own childhood (including, of course his mother AND a representation of early sexual awakening in the form of a hideous but very sexual lady who looked a lot like Divine!) all come together in a series of somewhat disconnected images. All these factors that together work together to make the director's psyche are interesting, but very surreal--like the entire film is a dream or something that is the result of drugs. It is interesting at times, but also very tiring and difficult to watch at times and occasionally a bit dull. That's because it's a very choppy movie and only a child who is very hyperactive could easily stick with the ever-changing plot. As for me, what I liked best was the opening dream sequence--it was very amusing and brilliant.

This type of self-analysis and parody was often copied in such films as STARDUST MEMORIES (to me, a blatant attempt by Woody Allen to steal or re-created 8 1/2) or DAY FOR NIGHT--though Truffaut's vision is much, much more conventional and lacks the surrealism and weirdness of Fellini. Many prefer Fellini's mad style, but as for me, while it is not as original or wildly innovative, DAY FOR NIGHT was a more enjoyable film.

Overall, while not a fun or completely comprehensible film, it's a must for anyone who considers themselves a serious fan of film.

Guido Anselmi is a film director who is preparing for his latest film. However with casting in progress and mere days until shooting begins, he is still unsure of his story or even his theme. He feels trapped and pressured from all sides, like he is totally out of control and at the mercy of himself and others. While he is haunted by memories of his past, his present appears to be coming apart as well. In the middle of all his affairs, his women, his attempts at art and making successful films, Guido is lost and unsure of where he is going.

And that is about a good a plot summary as I can manage I am afraid! I saw this film many years ago in an art cinema when I was even more of a movie snob than I am now; nowadays I settle to see this sort of film in my own home without feeling the need to make a special effort to appear elitist! Anyway, in order to review it I watched it again the other night and I am finding myself under as much pressure as Guido himself! Do I just go with the flow and hail this as a piece of art and therefore make myself stand out as an intelligent, contemplative film watcher or do I write a more balanced, true opinion that reflects my real opinion even if it means it will appear that I am just not arty and intelligent enough to 'get it' and will get messages telling me to stick to action blockbusters! Well, I'm afraid that the latter is the only option for me.

This is not preparing the way for me to dismiss the film because I found it curiously watchable and interesting as a very personal sort of film. I do not know enough about Fellini to be able to say this was his life on screen but it certainly had the feel of being a very intimate story that was more about Guido's feelings and fears than any specific narrative about making the film. As such it was difficult to really get into and I found it all to be a bit obscure at times, requiring the viewer to do a lot of work to keep up without offering much in the way of help in understanding the characters and their lives. It was still interesting because Guido did have some aspect that became clear if you stuck with it but generally a little help would have been appreciated. Without this help the film appears to be freewheeling without a frame in the manner that very personal films often do – the director understands the significance of every shot and he forgets that, without his frame of reference, we do not. This is best illustrated in the melting of scenes in the body of the film and the end of the film that is hard to interpret satisfactorily.

Time has not helped the film either and it does appear very dated now, with the images already in the mind of the first time viewer from other films, whether they be Woody Allen or Pulp Fiction, this has gradually become a film that is important to see because of the directors influence on cinema rather than on the merits of the film on its own. I sound a bit harsh because this is what I felt but I still did think that my time was well spent watching the movie because it was imaginative and it was a chance to experience Fellini in full flow in a very personal seeming film. On top of that, this is a very influential film and, for all my difficulties penetrating it, I still felt that it was one that I should see to try and recognise its influence and its importance to those directors who are the artists of my generation. The cast seem a bit unaware of the meaning of the whole thing as well and the only one that I looked like he had really connected with Fellini was, fortunately, Mastroianni. He really helped me get into his character and he brought a lot to the film with his performance – even when he wasn't doing anything he is still a great screen presence. The rest of the cast are not quite as good and really concentrate on being larger than life characters – only Aimee and a couple of those playing the other main women really struck a note with me.

Overall this is still considered a classic and influential film and that is the reason I came back to watch it again. However it is also a dated film that is difficult to get into because it is such a personal film; but then this is also why I found it interesting, as I tried to work out the meaning of the scenes and the character of Guido. Many viewers will wonder what all the fuss is about and, in a way, they are right because the film is mainly worth seeing for its influence rather than on its own merits; but with the well shot images, good direction, personal touches and thought provoking material it is still worth seeing: just don't expect it to live up to the high praise that many famous fans and viewers have been heaping on it for all these years.

It's been said before: Marcello Mastroianni plays Guido Anselmi, a fictitious, 43-year-old film director with a personal crisis that stunts his creative flow and his inability to get on with his new film after the enormous success of his previous one. The character is iconically brought to life by the immortal Mastroianni with artificially greyed hair and is universally identified as an alter ego of Fellini himself.

The first time I saw 8½ I was in my teens and hated it. I then rewatched it only a few years later, in my early 20s, and something miraculous happened. It was probably a pivotal moment in my film-viewing experience: it suddenly gave me new parametres by which to judge movies and even art in general. I suddenly learnt this new language, so much more beautiful and sophisticated than anything I had heard before. What was most amazing was that after the first negative experience, I had somehow tapped into this language's secret, and it wasn't in the least bit hermetic or difficult, though more complex and sophisticated than other languages I already knew. Many of the movies I'd considered greats became amateurish or dwarfish in comparison.

To me, this was no longer simply a movie, but Art in a more universal sense of the word, Art that just IS and has nothing to strive for or prove. Which is why I find it so nonsensical and contradictory to call something like 8½ "pretentious" - to me, pretentious is when an insecure auteur is trying consciously and hard to be profound, difficult, original, ground-breaking, and you can see their intent clearly, and detect the effort behind the artifice. Nothing of any of this is anywhere to be perceived in 8½, which makes creating masterpieces look easy.

I admit that 8½ is not an easy movie, nor one for everyone. Visually, fewer movies are as iconic, memorable, original, poetic, funny, inventive, allegorical, exhilarating.

The scenes I love are too many to mention, but here are just a few: The steam bath scene when in an odd procession/ritual, the patients are being led into what must be a Turkish bath. All the steam surrounding them, the men wearing sheets that look like shrouds or togas, all looking like mock-ancient Roman dignitaries... Then, through a loud-speaker Mastroianni-Anselmi is told the dried-up, turkey-like Cardinal, will now condescend to meeting him. Before Guido rushes off to meet the Cardinal, all his friends and colleagues beg him to put in a good word for them. This is such a gleeful stab at Italy's grovelling, nepotistic culture of ingratiating oneself to the powers-that-be by paying them lip-service even for the most petty personal advantages. Then Guido stands before the embodiment of Catholic paternalism and his obsequious minions. And everything is at its most pompous and lifeless - this dusty, mummified institution is less in touch with the humanity it's supposed to comfort and advise than it is possible to believe.

I also love the character of Guido's mistress, Carla, played by Sandra Milo at her gaudiest and most voluptuous. Though initially it's difficult to understand what Guido would have seen in her, eventually it become more apparent. Meeting his wife Luisa, you see how well the two women's ways of being complement one another. See for example how she reacts in a simple, good-humoured, self-deprecating way when in the café scene, Guido's elegant, neurotic wife played by Anouk Aimée at her most androgynously attractive - mockingly compliments Carla's tacky outfit for its "elegance". In such instances one gets a sense that though Fellini is parodying his subjects, he also has a fundamental love and human compassion for them.

The prostitute La Saraghina is probably one of the most memorable female characters put to film ever. She is probably somewhere in her 50s and rougher than sandpaper, overweight yet strangely fit and voluptuous, with lots of scary, wild dark hair, overdone raccoon eye make-up caked onto her aggressive, striking, sardonic face as she sits and dances on the lonely beach in Rimini next to her war bunker-home. Guido is fascinated by what is "young and yet ancient", eternal, meaning what is muse-like, archetypically, like the divinely beautiful Claudia character, perfectly embodied by Claudia Cardinale (the ultimate director's muse rather than a real woman or mistress). La Saraghina may not be a young woman like Claudia, she may not represent spontaneity and fresh, uncluttered artistic inspiration like she does, but she is also a muse of sorts - the muse of guilt-free pleasure and non-self-conscious, free, unidealised, earthy femininity. All this is La Saraghina - the town's young boys respond to this in her (including Guido as a child) and are bewitched by her and pay to her to see her demonic yet liberating, visceral dance.

I have so much more to say about this movie, for instance about Nino Rota's memorable score, or how the movie's non-linear structure and juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated scenes emulates the rhythm and mood of dreams to perfection. Also, the scenes featuring Guido's parents and their embodiment of the emotional blackmail, that eternal sense of guilt and the stunting of individuality that the paternalistic institution of family at its most traditional represents in Italy. Or of Guido's touching childhood memories, of the wonderful way in which the movie ends, in a merry-go-round of what really matters in life, when all else has been swiped aside and all that remains is the desire to cherish (with all their imperfections) all those who have really mattered most in our lives...

After 8 or 9 unsuccessful attempts in the past, at long last I somehow managed to sit through & stay awake for the entirety of this unfathomable bore but at what personal cost. A towering feat of cinematic boredom that arguably has no equals, this avant-garde surrealist comedy-drama turned out to be exactly what I presumed it would be: too far up its own ass.

Co-written & directed by Federico Fellini, the story of 8½ concerns a famous filmmaker who no longer remembers the film he wanted to make. The idea came from Fellini's own creative block during production and through all the pain that he underwent, he decided to make a story that captures the similar frustrations so that the audience can suffer just as much as he did.

On a serious note though, the film does acquaint the viewers to an extent with the struggles of creating art and the personal sacrifices that the process demands. It's an exhibition of what a director's job actually looks like and how regardless of his professional & personal issues, he's expected to deliver. It is aimless & convoluted like the film within the film coz it is the film within the film.

Overall, 8½ is a tedious, overlong & self-indulgent exercise that left me indifferent to everything it had in store and while I see the brilliance of its metafictional construction, the drama remains an insufferable eyesore filled with characters as bland & uninteresting as they can get. And the dream sequences are even worse. In short, this film is nothing more than a mere tick mark on a checklist for me.

Intellectuals have written volumes on this strange film by Italian New Wave director, Federico Fellini. I am not an intellectual, so my review will be brief. At its most basic, "8 1/2" (a.k.a. "Otto e mezzo") concerns Guido, a film director (supposedly a surrogate for Fellini himself), who is having what amounts to a midlife crisis. Guido is frustrated in his film-making, and by his relations with other people in his life. But the film's story does not proceed in a traditional, linear fashion. Fellini more or less abandons logical narration, in favor of "open form" narration, wherein the story's causal chain of events is broken.

Thus, trying to figure out what is going on in this film can be hard. Guido's fantasies, memories, dreams, and reality co-mingle in a kind of cinematic stew. Fellini presents viewers with a kaleidoscope of surreal B&W images of ordinary objects and eccentric, chattering characters which interact with Guido and with each other, in ways that defy logic, and give breathtaking meaning to the term symbolism. Followers of psychologist Carl Jung would have a field day. In style, the film is flamboyant. In substance, the film is maddeningly subliminal. And yet, even the most metallic cynic, Pauline Kael notwithstanding, must surely appreciate the rareness of Fellini's probing introspection.

Given the bizarre, unstructured content of "8 1/2", I wonder about the issue of necessity. Suppose Fellini had added an extra ten minutes to the screenplay, or deleted ten minutes. Would that have made any difference? Apart from Guido, if this or that character had been deleted, how would that have changed the story's significance? And if, as some have suggested, the film is a mirror image of Fellini's own confused psyche, can the story be construed as an intuition of his future film-making?

"Otto e mezzo" is not for everyone. Like a Zen koan, "8 1/2" invites frustration. It is above all else a celebration of ambiguity and abstraction, a cinematic experience to ponder, especially on the heels of four or five martinis ... or 8 1/2, if you really want to induce immense intellectual insight. Cheers.