Fellini and I just made our acquaintance. We are very please with each other. It was about time too, since we had delayed this delightful encounter for a couple of years already. Let me explain.
Who doesn't know who Fellini is? No, seriously, who? He is not the kind of director whose films are on Telecinco at 22.00. Just in case, you should check him out. Just for the craic. I was (and still am, for that matter) one of those people. Well, I recognised the name, of course, and I knew he was an Italian director. One of those that made black and white films. But I had never seen one of his films before, nor I knew which films he made, nor I knew what to expect of them. So, in this complete ignorance, I could be found in a modernist apartment in the Eixample of Barcelona around 3 years ago. Paula and I were talking about a guy we both knew. He had a tatoo in his back, it just said 8 1/2 and, apparently, that was a reference to a Fellini film. She had heard it was a very good one and couldn't wait to watch it. I thought it was a horror movie and refused.
Why, oh why did I think it was a horror movie? Maybe because the boy whose tatoo started that conversation liked Haneke's Funny Games? Maybe because such a title is misleading and makes you think of all the sequels and prequels of Scream? Maybe because it wasn't my time yet to appreciate this film? Who knows! Nevertheless, the title, and Paula's assumption that it was a very good film were filed into the trivia box in my brain.
Let's fastforward two years and lets position ourselves in last year, in a household in West Donegal. A couple goes to see Nine, Rob Marshall's musical based on 8 1/2. By that moment, I knew the synopsis (which doesn't uncover much) of both Nine and 8 1/2 and that it may not be, after all, a horror movie. That same couple from three lines ago comes back from the cinema. They are absolutely in love with Nine and they think I would have (mark my words) LOVE it. It was a sign that I needed to see either the copy (9) or the original (eight and a half). However, that sign was not strong enough, since I decided to ignore it.
Yesterday is when the stars, or whoever decides these things, thought that my time had come to meet Fellini. Alexandra couldn't believe that I had never seen a film by Fellini. She had just watched I Vitelloni and thought that Fellini was great. That was it, it was my time to meet Fellini. And Netflix was going to arrange the meeting. I checked in my queue, and yes, there they were, both La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2. Imdb decided for me. 8 1/2 had one tenth of a point more than La Dolce Vita. Ahead of me, 2 wonderful hours and 18 minutes.
Alexandra was right. I can't believe I hadn't seen it before. It is so good that it's difficult to swallow. I don't even know where to start. Maybe I could start talking about the different layers, the metafilm, the discursive nature of the narrative. Or about the choice of the music. Or about the actors, especially Marcello, oh, Marcello. Or about the depth of the inquiry into the psyche of Guido. Or about Carla, dear Carla. Instead, I'll just say one thing. This film feels very modern. All of those things that I've mentioned make it feel, just that, modern. It feels like that film was the beginning of all modern cinema, that all films need to acknowledge their essence to 8 1/2. It feels like I have already seen all those scenes, but elsewhere. In another time and another world. 8 1/2 feels like it is at the same time the beginning of modern cinema but also its final product. It is so good that it is scary.
Maybe it is a horror movie after all.
Who doesn't know who Fellini is? No, seriously, who? He is not the kind of director whose films are on Telecinco at 22.00. Just in case, you should check him out. Just for the craic. I was (and still am, for that matter) one of those people. Well, I recognised the name, of course, and I knew he was an Italian director. One of those that made black and white films. But I had never seen one of his films before, nor I knew which films he made, nor I knew what to expect of them. So, in this complete ignorance, I could be found in a modernist apartment in the Eixample of Barcelona around 3 years ago. Paula and I were talking about a guy we both knew. He had a tatoo in his back, it just said 8 1/2 and, apparently, that was a reference to a Fellini film. She had heard it was a very good one and couldn't wait to watch it. I thought it was a horror movie and refused.
Why, oh why did I think it was a horror movie? Maybe because the boy whose tatoo started that conversation liked Haneke's Funny Games? Maybe because such a title is misleading and makes you think of all the sequels and prequels of Scream? Maybe because it wasn't my time yet to appreciate this film? Who knows! Nevertheless, the title, and Paula's assumption that it was a very good film were filed into the trivia box in my brain.
Let's fastforward two years and lets position ourselves in last year, in a household in West Donegal. A couple goes to see Nine, Rob Marshall's musical based on 8 1/2. By that moment, I knew the synopsis (which doesn't uncover much) of both Nine and 8 1/2 and that it may not be, after all, a horror movie. That same couple from three lines ago comes back from the cinema. They are absolutely in love with Nine and they think I would have (mark my words) LOVE it. It was a sign that I needed to see either the copy (9) or the original (eight and a half). However, that sign was not strong enough, since I decided to ignore it.
Yesterday is when the stars, or whoever decides these things, thought that my time had come to meet Fellini. Alexandra couldn't believe that I had never seen a film by Fellini. She had just watched I Vitelloni and thought that Fellini was great. That was it, it was my time to meet Fellini. And Netflix was going to arrange the meeting. I checked in my queue, and yes, there they were, both La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2. Imdb decided for me. 8 1/2 had one tenth of a point more than La Dolce Vita. Ahead of me, 2 wonderful hours and 18 minutes.
Alexandra was right. I can't believe I hadn't seen it before. It is so good that it's difficult to swallow. I don't even know where to start. Maybe I could start talking about the different layers, the metafilm, the discursive nature of the narrative. Or about the choice of the music. Or about the actors, especially Marcello, oh, Marcello. Or about the depth of the inquiry into the psyche of Guido. Or about Carla, dear Carla. Instead, I'll just say one thing. This film feels very modern. All of those things that I've mentioned make it feel, just that, modern. It feels like that film was the beginning of all modern cinema, that all films need to acknowledge their essence to 8 1/2. It feels like I have already seen all those scenes, but elsewhere. In another time and another world. 8 1/2 feels like it is at the same time the beginning of modern cinema but also its final product. It is so good that it is scary.
Maybe it is a horror movie after all.
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