8½ (15.)
Directed by Federico Fellini.
Starring Marcello Mastroianni, Anouk Aimee, Claudia Cardinale, Sandra Milo and Rosella Folk. In Black and white. Italian with subtitles. 132 mins.
Chronologically his eighth full feature isn’t exactly the midpoint of Fellini’s career, but it certainly seems like all the preceding works were building towards it and everything that followed flowed from it. Many would argue that the films that followed charted a slow descent from its artistic peak but I’m not so sure: when it comes to Fellini, I have a guilty little crush on his later, sillier films.
The film centres on a film director suffering from director’s block. He has the script, the cast, the crew and the sets in expensive position, but he doesn’t know what to do with them. The situation supposedly mirrors that of Fellini at the time who had forgotten what his next film would be, so made a film of the not knowing. Anybody can get writer’s block but you have to be very far up the career ladder to enjoy the indulgence of director’s block. So this film about the dilemmas of being a film director reflects a situation that surely very few directors would even have the opportunity to suffer. (Late era Kubrick; Wong Kar-wai making 2046; some of the Soviet era directors?)
The film is still regarded as one of the great masterpieces – in the last Sight and Sound poll of idiot critics it held on to a spot in the top ten having previously made it up to second place while in their concurrent poll of actual film directors it was fourth. It is definitely a landmark but the passing of a half a century has exposed its limitations. It has been part buried by parody and homage. Many have tried to copy it while Fellini himself would obsessively re-work scenes and ideas from it in his subsequent films.
Watching it now I was reminded of the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry and George go to NBC to pitch their idea for A Show About Nothing. This is a film about nothing and quite an engaging film about nothing, but still one that really stretches the point over its two and a quarter hour running time. There are lovely flights of fancy, such as the opening scene when Guido, the stuck film director, attempts to break free of a traffic jam, but as it meanders around reminiscing about lose and past loves it quite often tries the patience. There doesn’t ultimately seem to be much to it beyond the gimmick of its own existence. This was Fellini’s last black and white film and the highpoint of his critical acclaim. With his move into gaudy colour he was increasingly criticised for being an empty, self-indulgent showman. Looking at this you wonder if that wasn’t the case all along, it just didn't show in black and white; all that monochrome gave it an intellectual coating.
Still if you are to meander, Mastroianni is good man to meander with. Possibly the first rule of auteur film directing is getting a great alter ego and Fellini had the best of them all. Even playing a man under intolerable duress he is calm and assured. Perched behind his Prada sunglasses the moments where he chooses to slide them down his nose so that he may peek over them, both inquisitive and aloof, have a unique charisma. Along with Nino Rota’s score he keeps the thing from getting totally stuck in its indulgence.
Extras
Not so impressive. There are a couple of trailers and the text of the speech Fellini gave upon receiving his honorary Oscar. The short interview with Lina Wertmuller, who was an assistant director on this, is illuminating but a longer feature that runs photos taken on the set with recordings of Fellini’s remarks on the film is tough to get through.
Directed by Federico Fellini.
Starring Marcello Mastroianni, Anouk Aimee, Claudia Cardinale, Sandra Milo and Rosella Folk. In Black and white. Italian with subtitles. 132 mins.
Chronologically his eighth full feature isn’t exactly the midpoint of Fellini’s career, but it certainly seems like all the preceding works were building towards it and everything that followed flowed from it. Many would argue that the films that followed charted a slow descent from its artistic peak but I’m not so sure: when it comes to Fellini, I have a guilty little crush on his later, sillier films.
The film centres on a film director suffering from director’s block. He has the script, the cast, the crew and the sets in expensive position, but he doesn’t know what to do with them. The situation supposedly mirrors that of Fellini at the time who had forgotten what his next film would be, so made a film of the not knowing. Anybody can get writer’s block but you have to be very far up the career ladder to enjoy the indulgence of director’s block. So this film about the dilemmas of being a film director reflects a situation that surely very few directors would even have the opportunity to suffer. (Late era Kubrick; Wong Kar-wai making 2046; some of the Soviet era directors?)
The film is still regarded as one of the great masterpieces – in the last Sight and Sound poll of idiot critics it held on to a spot in the top ten having previously made it up to second place while in their concurrent poll of actual film directors it was fourth. It is definitely a landmark but the passing of a half a century has exposed its limitations. It has been part buried by parody and homage. Many have tried to copy it while Fellini himself would obsessively re-work scenes and ideas from it in his subsequent films.
Watching it now I was reminded of the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry and George go to NBC to pitch their idea for A Show About Nothing. This is a film about nothing and quite an engaging film about nothing, but still one that really stretches the point over its two and a quarter hour running time. There are lovely flights of fancy, such as the opening scene when Guido, the stuck film director, attempts to break free of a traffic jam, but as it meanders around reminiscing about lose and past loves it quite often tries the patience. There doesn’t ultimately seem to be much to it beyond the gimmick of its own existence. This was Fellini’s last black and white film and the highpoint of his critical acclaim. With his move into gaudy colour he was increasingly criticised for being an empty, self-indulgent showman. Looking at this you wonder if that wasn’t the case all along, it just didn't show in black and white; all that monochrome gave it an intellectual coating.
Still if you are to meander, Mastroianni is good man to meander with. Possibly the first rule of auteur film directing is getting a great alter ego and Fellini had the best of them all. Even playing a man under intolerable duress he is calm and assured. Perched behind his Prada sunglasses the moments where he chooses to slide them down his nose so that he may peek over them, both inquisitive and aloof, have a unique charisma. Along with Nino Rota’s score he keeps the thing from getting totally stuck in its indulgence.
Extras
Not so impressive. There are a couple of trailers and the text of the speech Fellini gave upon receiving his honorary Oscar. The short interview with Lina Wertmuller, who was an assistant director on this, is illuminating but a longer feature that runs photos taken on the set with recordings of Fellini’s remarks on the film is tough to get through.
