8 1/2
Director: Federico Fellini
Year: 1963
Year: 1963
I discussed with my students in a film class I teach much about the effect of watching certain films at certain times in life and how one's life experience changes what one sees or appreciates in the work. The film, itself, does not change. The viewer, however, is constantly changing.
So it was with 8 1/2. The first time this film was introduced to me was when I was attempting to get into film school at San Diego State University during my undergraduate days. I say trying to, because, indeed, I did not get in. Film at that school at that time was presented as a very closed group and, it seemed to me, if you didn't get the intricate subtle details of the most avant-garde films the first time they were presented (and back then everything was 35 mm, in a theater and on the big screen) you simply weren't made for film. 8 1/2 was one of the films that intimidated and crushed my early hopes of being a filmmaker. As you all know that feeling didn't last too long.
This time around, some 25 years later (gulp!), I'm happy to say I understand the praise heaped upon Fellini. It isn't just about understanding films -- it's about understanding what it is to be a Director. And to that end, I find this a very important film for this class.
The basics of the story follow a man, Guido Anselmi (played by Marcello Mastroianni, in a role most critics deem to be a thinly veiled version of Fellini himself) through preproduction hell. Anselmi (like Fellini) has earned the right to move beyond development hell (when nothing seems to be happening for a filmmaker) to preproduction hell where everyone insists something must happen and the Director must be the one to make it so. Approve this. Write that. Make a decision. Make them all! This mania has driven Guido into a corner, both personally and professionally. He questions and is questioned by everything and everyone. All of this is played out against magnificent sets, larger than life, giving size and scope to Fellini's own feelings of importance. While those who haven't Directed could easily dismiss all of this as so much martyred wailing by an overinflated ego, those who have Directed or have compassion for what the position asks may see a man on a journey. And when Guido begs for his wife to accept him as he is, with all of his flaws, he seems to be asking that of everyone. He will not apologize. He will not go back. He will continue on, for better or worse, as a man who believes in his vision.
So it was with 8 1/2. The first time this film was introduced to me was when I was attempting to get into film school at San Diego State University during my undergraduate days. I say trying to, because, indeed, I did not get in. Film at that school at that time was presented as a very closed group and, it seemed to me, if you didn't get the intricate subtle details of the most avant-garde films the first time they were presented (and back then everything was 35 mm, in a theater and on the big screen) you simply weren't made for film. 8 1/2 was one of the films that intimidated and crushed my early hopes of being a filmmaker. As you all know that feeling didn't last too long.
This time around, some 25 years later (gulp!), I'm happy to say I understand the praise heaped upon Fellini. It isn't just about understanding films -- it's about understanding what it is to be a Director. And to that end, I find this a very important film for this class.
The basics of the story follow a man, Guido Anselmi (played by Marcello Mastroianni, in a role most critics deem to be a thinly veiled version of Fellini himself) through preproduction hell. Anselmi (like Fellini) has earned the right to move beyond development hell (when nothing seems to be happening for a filmmaker) to preproduction hell where everyone insists something must happen and the Director must be the one to make it so. Approve this. Write that. Make a decision. Make them all! This mania has driven Guido into a corner, both personally and professionally. He questions and is questioned by everything and everyone. All of this is played out against magnificent sets, larger than life, giving size and scope to Fellini's own feelings of importance. While those who haven't Directed could easily dismiss all of this as so much martyred wailing by an overinflated ego, those who have Directed or have compassion for what the position asks may see a man on a journey. And when Guido begs for his wife to accept him as he is, with all of his flaws, he seems to be asking that of everyone. He will not apologize. He will not go back. He will continue on, for better or worse, as a man who believes in his vision.
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