Amarcord

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....

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.

When "Amarcord" had it's American premier at the Plaza Theatre on East 58th Street in New York, I was working as the manager of The Paris Theatre, also on 58th Street, just 2 blocks west, behind Bergdorf's and facing the front of the Plaza Hotel.

Both theatres were part of the Cinema-5 circuit of first-run theatres in Manhattan. I often took advantage of the pass privileges that theatres extend to one another and always attended every other theatre in the city to sample their fare.

As I often worked as 'relief' manager of The Plaza, I was well known to the the crew there and had easy access to that theatre at all times. When I first sat through "Amarcord" during it's opening, I realized that I had just seen "THE Finest Film Ever Made". When I told this to others, I was often scoffed at. I was told that the 'Finest Film' hadn't been made yet. That was until the scoffers saw the film for themselves. Every friend I brought to The Plaza to see "Amarcord" was as enchanted with the film as I was.

During it's opening run at the Plaza Theatre in 1974, I must have seen the film at least 50 times. I next saw "Amarcord" at an art house in another city in 1980. Yes, it was still the best film. In the 6 years since it's USA premier I can't say I saw any film better than "Amarcord."

Then, when it was at long last released on videotape in the 1990's, I purchased the tape. When I watched the tape I wept. Yes, it was STILL the finest film ever made. I DO think the world of "Nights of Cabiria", "La Strada", "La Dolce Vita" and "8 1/2". But "Amarcord" is more than just Fellini's greatest work. It is greater than ANY other film, made by any other person or group of persons. I know now, 27 years after I first saw this film, that I will certainly say, 27 years in the future: This is THE film that no film-maker can top.

..In my humble opinion, of course....

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.