Life in frames.

8 1/2 - (Federico Fellini, 1963)   a.k.a. Otto e Mezzo

Felliniesque. It's weird to put director-adjective to a film that is by the same director, say attributing Rear Window as Hitchcockian. But I guess this only applies to directors who have stuck to their style and consistency that you can't help but coin an adjective in their own names. Such maybe the case for Fellini, who may not always be agreeable. I guess I made a mistake watching Fellini's 8 1/2 when I was tired from work and woozy and all that. In a more conditioned state I could've appreciated it more, but in trying to regain alertness I could not discount the fact the it is a masterpiece. After all, how many films are there about the filmmaking or the experience of it? 

Guido (Marcello Mastroianni) is a director who is running out of ideas, or let's just say, he doesn't know what to do next. While checking into some sort of spa, his writer tells him ideas that do not really appear interesting to him, coupled with the insistent proddings of his producer to come up with his next picture. Apparently, Guido has constructed a science-fiction inspired set for his next film, but even that doesn't seem to help the block. While trying to regain momentum, he instead unknowingly tread a path of soul-searching, traversing from his childhood past and dream-like concoctions.

The opening sequence is unbeaten. We would see a "dream of asphyxiation" set in the context of a traffic jam in some sort of tunnel. A man (which we would later learn as Guido) is sturggling to get out of an enclosed car — he seems to be suffocating– amidst a sea of vehicles whose passengers is a bit dreary as the atmosphere who seems to be either waiting for some sort of liberation or enjoying the stagnation. The next we thing we know, he is flying in air. Men throws a rope at him and yanks him back to a shore. This begins the journey of contemplation for Guido, and the next scenes would resemble a montage of dreamlike sequences reminiscent of Freud and past recollections of childhood and Catholic guilt, and then yanks us back to reality again.

There is chore to distinguish what is recollection and the subconscious because the transition is seamless, or rather there is no transition at all; the scenes flow in such a fluid manner, much like the energy of the camera which seems to be moving a lot, making the whole idea of a film-within-a-film resemble that of a grandiose production. I'm sure though that the childhood scene where a young Guido adulates a monstrous prostitute called Saraghina is a childhood memory, and the psychosexual dream scene where Guido is surrounded by women, both real and imaginary is his subconcious telling him of his relationships with women from his wife (a gorgeous Anouk Aimee), a mistress (Sandra Milo), the 'dreamgirl' (Claudia Cardinale), and even his own mother.

The concluding sequence, which appears to me as a director coming to his senses after a 'recollecting process' feels emotionally detached from the whole exercise. He sets up choreographed sequences of circus-like proportions with weird characters that we don't know where it's actually going. But as Alan Stone said, Fellini emphasizes images over ideas, which clearly achieves with this one. And yes, after all the drollery, Fellini would like it to be a celebration not just of cinema but of life as well.