I first watched Federico Fellini‘s 1960 film, La Dolce Vita, just over five years ago and with this week marking what would have been the filmmaker’s 94th birthday I’ve chosen La Dolce Vita as the debut film in my Best Movies feature. Not because I believe it to be his best (though it certainly is one of the best), but largely because I’ve had the urge to watch it again ever since learning Paramount has finally been granted exclusive rights to the film, prompting me to hope it will finally receive a domestic Blu-ray release sometime soon.
Captured in lovely black-and-white, Otello Martelli‘s cinematography lives up to the literal translation of the film’s title — “the sweet life” — while the narrative focuses on a character living a life more empty than “sweet”. Marking the first time Marcello Mastroianni and Fellini would work together, Mastroianni plays Marcello Rubini, a gossip monger (or “journalist” as he’s so frequently referred to) and in many ways it’s just as relevant today as it was when it was made.
For the opening scene we’re made aware of one of the film’s many themes — the modern day breakdown in communication — as Marcello asks a group of women sunbathing on a rooftop for their phone numbers. Of course, they can’t hear him and likewise, as he’s in a helicopter at the time, accompanying the transport of a statue of Jesus to the Vatican. Communication impossible, he puts on his sunglasses and chases after the statue as another one of the film’s themes is played out in very explicit terms. Rife with religious cynicism, there’s no doubts as to why the Vatican condemned the film upon release.
From Marcello’s aerial introduction we soon see him at work. Suave and confident in his movements, he seems to glide through each scene. Comfortable in his environment and seemingly in his job, where anyone may be his next victim as he frequents nightclubs for a story and most often leaves with a woman on his arm, be it the wealthy heiress Maddalena (Anouk Aimee) or the sexy, Swedish-American actress Sylvia (Anita Ekberg), while at home his girlfriend, Emma (Yvonne Furneaux), lays in wait.
In the first few minutes, the film’s title and what’s on screen seem to suggest we may be in for a film following an irresistible man, whose life of hob-nobbing with celebrities and bedding beautiful women is looked at as sport amid the neon lights of Rome’s Via Veneto. In some ways, that’s true, but Marcello’s hedonistic behavior is only a front for how empty he is inside. What’s even more curious is, while there are moments where he realizes the life he’s built for himself isn’t ideal, he shows no signs of being able to get out of it, or is it he doesn’t really want to abandon his chase for a so-called, “sweet” life?
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The film’s translated title and subject matter instantly recall Alexander Mackendrick‘s 1957 film Sweet Smell of Success. While the two narratives aren’t exactly the same, the similarities in cynicism and ironic titling are hard to ignore.
Marcello’s “sweet” smell of success, however, comes with a lot of shame, though he doesn’t ever really break character around those that look up to him. The only time we see him truly ashamed of what he does is in his encounters with his mentor, Steiner (Alain Cuny), a man he looks up to for his intellect and the life he’s made. Marcello is clearly jealous of Steiner’s friends and family and is ashamed to even admit he hasn’t come close to finishing the book he’s been working on, replying when asked how it’s going he says, “It’s going. I’m gathering material. Actually, I just finished.” Steiner isn’t fooled and Marcello can feel his disappointment.
As for Steiner, he has his own secrets. It’s clear he doesn’t see himself in the same light Marcello does, ultimately leading to a tragic third act moment where Marcello is made to witness the aftermath and question everything he is and has ever looked up to. This coming after spending an impromptu late night with his father (Annibale Ninchi) whom also leaves him standing in the middle of the street as Marcello does all he can to keep his father close.
In terms of Fellini’s portrayal of Marcello, he’s clearly a misogynist as he tortures and torments Emma and shows little respect for any and all women throughout, mostly treating them as objects, while all the while panting in their very presence. It’s as if some devil inside him is guiding him down a path without him having an explanation.
Take for example the most iconic moment from the film, Anika Ekberg’s wading in the frigid waters of the Trevi Fountain. To this point Sylvia has shown no real interest in Marcello. While he stares and follows her around like a puppy dog, she turns her attention to the dance floor, a friend, a cat and even while they embrace in the fountain their lips never actually touch. Then, suddenly, the waters of the fountain stop. Sound is absent. Marcello looks around, realizes the romance, which never began in the first place, is over.
To this point, we never actually see Marcello have sex with anyone. Even the lead up to any presumed sexual encounter is muted. While I don’t believe this means he never had sex with any of the women in the film, Fellini’s insistence on showing virtually nothing implies how meaningless each encounter was.
By the time we reach the film’s end, what has Marcello learned? Nothing. Again we see a breakdown of communication as he fails to recognize the young girl he met in the country while attempting to work on his book. He’s now working publicity, using his knowledge gained as a member of the paparazzi (a term that explicitly came from La Dolce Vita) to charge wanting celebrities for increased exposure. He has become a beast with a bloated ego, something he can’t recognize, but we easily do, in the dead sea creature that eventually washes ashore by the film’s end.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Nino Rota‘s score and the film’s overall soundtrack, which changes tone throughout, sometimes seeming a perfect fit for what’s on screen while other times elevating a scene, causing you to question Fellini’s actual intent.
Where La Dolce Vita ranks among Fellini’s greats is something that could be argued for days, but you will most certainly find aspects of his other films within La Dolce Vita from 8 ½ and Nights of Cabiria to La Strada. I also noticed a kinship with Michelangelo Antonioni‘s La Notte (1961 and also starred Mastroianni) as well as Luis Bunuel‘s religious-themed Viridiana (1961) along with the absurdity of his The Exterminating Angel (1962).
If you’ve never seen a Fellini film, this may be a great place to start as it does contain so much of what he would later use to fill the canvas of his previous and future films. This was my second Fellini after 8 ½, which I still consider my favorite, but it’s most likely his least immediately accessible feature. What’s great about almost all of his films is that you begin to feel as if you’re learning something about the man behind the camera. Some of his films are more autobiographical than others — films such as I Vitelloni (1953), 8 ½ (1963) and Amarcord (1973) take portions of his youth and put them up on the big screen while you could just as easily say portions of La Dolce Vita came out of his time working as a journalist in Rome beginning in 1939. Of course, to claim his films as such is something he seemed just as readily willing to agree with as he was to disagree:
“It is not memory that dominates my films. To say that my films are autobiographical is an overly facile liquidation, a hasty classification. It seems to me that I have invented almost everything: childhood, character, nostalgias, dreams, memories, for the pleasure of being able to recount them.”
Federico Fellini [source]
My Best Movies feature is a new feature on the site that will continue to highlight my favorite films, and films I consider to be the very “best”. You can explore the new section of the site right here for a look back at my previous top tens and much more.
