A friend of mine recently said, "Fellini's La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2 bridge the gap between Italian neorealism and the Swingin' 60s."
My own view is that Fellini's early films were superb, and that he peaked with 8 1/2. After that he discovered color, and with the exception of Amarcord, made one visual extravaganza after another in which there is hardly a single character to care about or a story to get involved in. (I haven't seen Fellini's Cadanova, so that might be another exception.) Some of the later films, like And the Ship Sailed On, are indeed boring; so much so that it took excruciating effort to sit through them to the end. (But I admit that a minor film like Intervista is charming.)
But last night I watched 8 1/2 again, and it was just as captivating as ever. I had no trouble discerning the dream and fantasy sequences from the "real" ones. What struck me most strongly this time was the film's great humor. The scene of Guido's fantasy harem is hilarious, and Mastroianni is brilliant. Bear in mind that while shooting the film, Fellini had a signed pasted to the bottom of the camera which said THIS IS A COMEDY.
I don't agree with some of the critics that it's self-indulgent to make a film about a film director. Remember that in 1963 it had hardly ever been done; now, with all the imitations of 8 1/2, it's commonplace. And I don't agree that the ending is a cop-out. It's actually brutally honest. Guido finally accepts himself as he is, and has no intention to change. A far cry from all the phony transformations and happy endings that conclude most films. But Fellini managed to end the film on an upbeat note, by having everyone accept him as well in yet another fantasy, holding hands as they dance in a circle to circus music. Julius Novick frequently said that every comedy ends in a celebration.
Some critics fail to remember that though the film has strong autobiographical elements, Guido is not Fellini. After all, Guido never finishes his film; Fellini did.
In her review, Pauline Kael says that it's not believable that a producer would hold up a film while its director gets over his director's-block. Talk about a spoilsport.
But the film feels liberating, one of Kael's favorite words of praise. I suspect she was put off by the film's view of women. But again, it's an honest portrait of a successful Italian man's attitude in 1963.
Guido says, "I have nothing to say, but I want to say it anyway." He's still a neorealist filmmaker, who thinks about film has to have a message, to "say" something. Fellini knows that a great film offers a compelling experience.
In short, a masterpiece, and a great experience.
