Praise for Cinema, Women, and Life; Re-release of Fellini's '8½'

'8½' is Federico Fellini's most complete masterpiece, which has been strangely and questionably less seen and praised by art enthusiasts in Europe compared to many of his other films, such as 'La Dolce Vita'. Recently, a restored version has been screened again in London cinemas; an exceptional opportunity to watch one of the peaks of art on the big screen. '8½' is an extraordinarily strange and different film that has no similar counterpart, even among Fellini's own films. Buoyed by the commercial and artistic success of 'La Dolce Vita', he had the chance to create whatever he wanted this time, resulting in an astonishing film that can be considered the pinnacle of cinema: the most ambitious and personal film in cinema history, with a stunning structure about cinema and Fellini himself. Before '8½', Fellini had made eight feature films and one short film, which is why he named this film '8½'; it tells the story of a 43-year-old filmmaker—exactly Fellini's age in 1963—who, in the midst of starting to shoot his new film, does not know what to create while being caught up in his dreams, fantasies, and desires, and alongside all of that, he is entangled in numerous problems in his personal life and private relationships, which seemingly have no end. Guido—the filmmaker—who has achieved fame must now meet all expectations and create a 'masterful' film, yet when he is honest with himself, he knows he has nothing to say. '8½' presents a strange contradiction about filmmaking—Fellini—who has nothing to say; yet, in a combination of Fellini's astonishing conscious and unconscious, all the important themes of life—from the philosophy of living and its meaning to discussions about artistic expression, from the concept of connection to the absolute loneliness of humanity, from the blend of dreams and reality to the fluidity of thought, and from the concept of sin and the role of childhood (in Freudian style) to religion and Christianity—all come together to showcase cinema—and art—at its peak. At first glance, everything seems extremely chaotic; however, amidst the chaos of the space—stemming from Guido's mental turmoil—the film arrives at a very precise and calculated expression to the extent that a minute's removal from it disrupts the entire structure of the film. In fact, Fellini, in one of the rarest experiences in cinema history, manages to build a minimalist structure like a precise miniature that is decades ahead of its production year and today, after more than five decades, appears remarkably fresh and is a brilliant example of postmodern cinema and the concept of intellectual cinema. Fellini's fluid camera is deeply intertwined with the space, and its continuous and endless movements share with us the sense of instability and inner tension of the main character. Each shot usually begins with camera movement, a camera that precisely combines the tumultuous state of humanity with its surrounding space, and every element of the scene is profoundly intertwined with the main character's feelings and gains meaning. Meanwhile, in one of the most brilliant black-and-white cinematographies in cinema history, the attractive appearance of Marcello Mastroianni—one of the most charming men on the silver screen—contrasts with his chaotic inner self. However, the eyes—with the camera's brilliant emphases and special lighting for them in most scenes—become a mirror for the audience to delve into Guido's inner world; a place where he recalls the magical word of his childhood in his mind, and the magician or seer—Fellini's favorite character—extraordinarily reads his mind and reflects it for the audience; from his first childhood memory of the concept of woman—Sarragina, a plump woman who dances for him in a sensual manner, and the priests who punish him in his religious school—to his dormant aspirations for a utopia where he can gather all the women of his life together and respond to any rebellion or jealousy with a whip and punishment. The seemingly real narrative of the story—staying in a hotel to start filming his new movie—is initially distorted by several types of unreal narratives: the film begins with a nightmare (the first place where dreams overpower reality), and after that, dreams blend with waking dreams, hallucinations, fantasies, and desires, as well as the past and childhood, to the extent that there is no boundary between them, and every real scene delicately—without any announcement or warning—connects with the unreal world. Fellini beautifully does not draw a line between reality and dreams. He speaks honestly about himself and his thoughts, allowing us to penetrate into his innermost and most personal aspirations and desires; into his dreams and his most hidden hopes in praising and loving women. At the same time, all of this brilliantly intertwines with his primary concern in life—cinema. Everything in the film finds meaning in cinema, and we are actually watching a film within a film, while the most unattainable and greatest desire of Guido/Fellini is intertwined with cinema: being with a dream woman named 'Claudia'—a movie star—played by Claudia Cardinale; in fact, playing herself. Claudia creates the most beautiful and soothing parts of Guido's world—when Guido sees her in his imagination, the film becomes silent, and all the noise around gives way to a devastating yet calming silence that guides the audience to the brink of fantasy—and this woman is so ethereal and unattainable that Guido cannot even envision a place for her in his sweet dream of taming all the women in his life in a harem. At the same time, Fellini beautifully speaks of humanity and its everyday problems—such as the relationship between a husband and wife—and on the other hand, the human effort to live and cope with these problems. He subtly avoids the boundary of cliché and superficial statements about the meaning of life. He does not want to solve humanity's problems all at once, but unconsciously '8½' becomes a film in praise of life. He—Fellini/Guido—who does not know what film to make, commits suicide in one of his dreams, but soon realizes in the next dream that life, with all its pains, is worth living; he gathers all the characters of his life in a place resembling a circus (a circus that Fellini always loved/ at the same time a symbol of cinema and filmmaking that gives him a new lease on life to create films/ and most importantly a symbol of the world that, in its circular shape, also reminds us of the Earth) so that they all—from his wife and mistress to the film producer, from his deceased mother to the magician—join hands and dance together to celebrate life.