Amarcord

Fellini gives us a series of memories, fantasies, and dreams in the vignettes which make up his semi-autobiographical film 'Amarcord' ('I Remember'). The message which comes through is loving, and about the gaiety of life, embracing its madcap characters and moments - moments which will someday live in our memories, hazy though they grow, as little diamonds of light. I loved the scenes satirizing the Fascists and the Catholic Church, and they're all the more powerful in this context, where they are reduced in significance, and just another zany thing Italians dealt with (or deal with) in life. The film doesn't strike any major philosophical chords, briefly coming close as men peer up into the heavens, but the lines uttered as a poem by a construction worker are powerful ("My grandfather made bricks / My father made bricks / I make bricks, too / but where's my house?"). I may be in the minority here, but the film didn't strike me as particularly beautiful, though it was a pleasure to see Magali Noël (Rififi, La Dolce Vita, and many others). It held my interest, but lacked a big punch, even in its sentimentality, though I was always pulling for it, and loved the many references to Hollywood actors from the 1930's. Unfortunately, there is not enough depth here to consider it a great film, and Fellini too often indulged in caricatures and juvenile humor. Net, a mixed bag.

Federico Fellini's "Amardord" is a series of sketches about his youth in a seaside town Rimini in the 1930s. In this regard it reminds another favorite film of mine, "Fellini's Roma". After repeat viewing, I can understand why many viewers may not like Fellini, especially his so called "later films" -"Amarcord" may seem too crowded, too loud, too vulgar, too bawdy, and too self-indulgent. It is all true, it is. But so is life - loud but tender, vulgar but touching, self-indulgent but full of humor, love and compassion to the film's eccentric characters. It's been said a lot about memorable scenes and images in "Amarcord": yes, the famous peacock that spreads its plumage on the snow, a magnificent ocean liner that is been greeted by the townspeople, a local tobacconist - a woman of such size and proportions that it could be simply dangerous for the teenage boys to try and make their dreams about her come true. I love "Amarcord" - always have - perhaps, Fellini played all the right notes for me or more likely, Nino Rota wrote his best musical score for the film which could be the best score ever. My favorite image in the film Gradisca's (local beautician) walk accompanied by Rota's music. What is it in the way Italian women walk, the way their hips sway? Monica Belucci in "Malena", Sofia Lauren in "Marriage Italian Style"? And Magali Noël as object of every man's in Rimini desire-Gradisca ("Help Yourself").

Wonderful film - by the power of his magic, by the light of his memory, the great master saved the town where he was young and happy. We can visit it as often as we'd like and it won't go away and disappear - Fellini's Rimini is captured forever.

9.5/10.

This film was first recommended to me by a high school friend who typically enjoys a different kind of film than I. He counts Reservoir Dogs and Mean Streets among his favorites; I am partial to Notorious and Annie Hall. But for his sake, I watched Amarcord, and in the past years have found myself returning to it time and again. I haven't seen any other movies by Mr. Fellini, so I can judge this film only against itself. By such standards, it is a masterpiece. Never have I seen Italy portrayed as lovingly, nor the spectrum of childhood emotions - happiness, love, frustration - represented as frankly. The images are spellbinding - sunlight and fog and great dark seas. Yesterdays are perfect, it would seem, and love exists in what we can remember. So my friend got it right with this one. Amarcord is a kind of magic only the very best in cinema inspire within us. It's the magic that makes us remember.

This film is a life journey. Filled with indelible images: The peacock in the middle of the snow, the awesome vision of the ocean liner--and the blind man crying out: "What's it like, what's it like?", the belly-laugh inducing introduction to each of the instructors at school, the beautiful people, the grotesques. Like life itself, the movie can be perplexing and enigmatic, sometimes magical, sometimes, in the face of the political climate and history, frightening as "simple people just trying to live get caught up in the times they were themselves creating". I don't think any film I've ever seen has so completely captured with such profound insight and simplicity the experience of losing a parent: The visit by the father and son in the hospital in which the mother realizes the awesome finality about to approach, and the son is blissfully unaware in his adolescent "immortality", and the total feeling of quiet and emptiness as the father sits at the dining room table, formerly filled with joyful, loud, noisy life--now emptier than could have ever been imagined before--this whole sequence comes as a powerful conclusion to a stunning film. With a final coda a la 8 1/2, Fellini embraces the audience, telling them not to worry--memories go on, life goes on, changed, altered forever perhaps, but it goes on, beautifully, enigmatically, magically.

It's truly astonishing to see the range of response for other reviewers on IMDB.

This movie has a history for me. I first saw it when I was young, and it impressed me greatly. Would I like it today? I'm not sure. I'm thinking of renting it again to find out.

Here's what I remember: Excellent score by Rota; sitting here, typing this, I can hum one of the melodies. The sequence where we meet a number of teachers; priceless. The bricklayer/poet's poem about not having a house. The unyeilding emotional black hole that is the hero's father; "take him to the whorehouse...". Teo. The village. The technical fact of the tabacconist's shadow growing larger against the wall as she moves "away" from the light, just like Mickey Mouse in The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Gradisca. Snow. The spring cottonwood wisps that offer a gently rocking temporal cradle to a story which traipses on the edge between straight narrative and emotional space. Gradisca's wedding. Time becoming a wash as we give up our dreams and settle down. The end of an era.

Will all this fine feeling and high emotional tone work for me today? If it doesn't, does this reflect on me or this movie? Stay tuned....