8½
F E L L I N I

A film about the union of life and art; one, it would seem, is the other.
A film about the making of a film; the concept is paradoxical, yet universal. Would one paint a painting depicting a painter struggling to complete a painting, or write a book about a writer unable to write? Perhaps, if only one has the courage. This idea allows for a unique and intimate inward reflection, as is observed in 8½.
The beginning of the film introduces the viewer to the suffocated, uninspired mind of the artist, director Guido Anselmi. Guido’s anguish and his consequential refuge dictate the plot of the film. The viewer is guided from Guido’s present state of confusion through his memories and surrealistic visions of idealistic futures.
The plot of the film is quite unsubstantial in comparison to the ideas put forth in the picture. The film simply follows an artist incapable of completing his work, and subsequently the life that is collapsing around him. There are no incredible moments of passion, hatred or love (save the denouement in which Guido is ‘free’d’). This simple storyline is suitable; it does not distract from the greater offerings of this masterpiece.
More notable is the use of form in the picture. Transitions are used often to sever from Guido’s conscious to subconscious. These odd sequences of circumstances, or dreams, reveal the artists inner most desires and concerns. Accompanying these typically strange events are a slew of characteristic methods of technique and form. The photography becomes dramatic, offering at times a new perspective, notably in the opening sequence when the earth is shown from a distance up above. Music becomes vibrant in the sequence of the revolting women, in which Guido begins to, somewhat pleasurably, whip the revolutionaries. In most instances, form was used to illustrate contrast between Guido’s reality and subconscious.