The Dreamers

The Dreamers is a film about a 20 year-old American college student named Matthew (Michael Pitt) who comes to Paris in 1968 for a one-year study abroad program and finds himself captivated by the films played at the Cinemateque Francaise. It is there that he meets the inseparable twins, Isabelle (Eva Green) and Theo (Louis Garrel), who entice him into their world of film, sex, and politics.

Interestingly, each of these characters represents one of the three themes mentioned above. Matthew, a native of California, represents film by embodying Hollywood’s explosion onto the French film screen. His appreciation of film is what sparks the twins’ initial interest in him, and his knowledge of the classics continues to win their affections, particularly during their games of Charades. Similar to the protagonist of The Conformist, Matthew seeks to fit in with his surroundings and many of his actions are governed by this desire, as well as his desire for Isabelle.

Isabelle represents sex – a theme explored in many of Bertolucci’s films including, Last Tango in Paris, The Conformist, and Stealing Beauty. Although Bertolucci is known for exploring Freudian psychoanalytic theory in his films, this is the first where we see incest between a brother and sister. At first, Matthew assumes Isabelle is in some twisted physical relationship with her brother when he catches the two of them sleeping naked together in Theo’s bed. However, her naivety and innocence are revealed when Theo pressures Matthew into sleeping with her and, to his delight, Matthew discovers she is a virgin. Interestingly, Matthew becomes comfortable with the close relationship Isabelle and Theo share. It seems he loses his traditional American beliefs and becomes more open and free.

Finally, Theo represents politics. Politics is Bertolucci’s main passion other than psychoanalytic theory. Bertolucci uses Theo to portray the next generation of Parisian youth. He is aggressively stubborn and confrontational, often seen arguing with Matthew about the Vietnam War and the current riots in Paris. Theo also argues with his father in the few scenes where the parents are present. Perhaps Bertolucci is replicating his own relationship with his father, who he was known to be in constant competition with.

Overall, Bertolucci portrays Matthew, Isabelle, and Theo through his two passions; psychoanalytic theory and politics, to recreate the Parisian youth revolt of 1968.

The Conformist

Although Bernardo Bertolucci became an internationally acclaimed director in his own right, he drew many inspirations from the work of Pier Paolo Pasolini. Beginning his career as Pasolini’s assistant, Bertolucci’s interest in psychoanalysis and Marxism closely resembled that of his mentor.

Many of Pasolini’s films conveyed his beliefs that “the achievement of self-consciousness comes from specifically sexual encounters,” – an idea clearly rooted in Freudian theory. Teorema, for example, is the story of a visitor who “makes love successively with a servant, the son, the mother, the daughter, and the father.” During the course of the film, we see how each member of the family is changed by this experience and their true identities are revealed. Compared to this rather eccentric representation of Freud’s theories on sexuality, Bertolucci takes a more orthodox approach.

While sexuality is a key theme in many of his films (The Conformist, Last Tango in Paris, The Dreamers etc.) Bertolucci chooses to explore Freud’s concepts more subtly, in fact, almost unconsciously – fitting with Freud’s theory of the unconscious. This is illustrated in the plot of The Conformist. Bertolucci admits that what started off as a joke – he used Godard’s phone number and address for the residence of the Quadris in Paris – became an unconscious desire to destroy a surrogate father figure. In the same way that Marcello (Jean-Louis Trintigant) kills Professor Quadri, Bertolucci symbolically destroys Jean-Luc Godard, his “revolutionary teacher.”

The Oedipus complex may be considered the primary concept explored in The Conformist. Not only is it represented through Marcello’s destruction of Professor Quadri, but also through the motif of blindness, which reiterates the story of Oedipus blinding himself after discovering he has slept with his own mother. Marcello’s friend Italo is blind, as is the woman selling flowers outside the Hotel D’Orsay.  Furthermore, the theme of blindness is reinforced by Bertolucci’s use of light and shadow throughout the film, especially in the scenes at his fiancées home, the asylum where his father is held, and the forest where the Quadris are assassinated.

A final exploration of Freudian concepts is Bertolucci’s use of non-linear narration. The disruptive chronology of the film, created through flashbacks, can be associated with Freud’s beliefs about repressed memories. It is clear that Marcello’s traumatic sexual encounters are the driving force behind his current state of introspection, which takes place primarily in the car with Manganiello. It seems that his inability to come to terms with these experiences directly leads him to going through with the murder of the Quadris. His search for normality/conformity was an inadequate defense mechanism not powerful enough to abate his long-term anxiety and so murdering the Quadris became the only solution: a symbolic destruction of the trauma that had haunted him for so long.
However, the film ends with the fall of fascism, and Marcello comes face to face with the man he thought he killed when he was thirteen. In a single moment, he escapes his guilt, renounces fascism, and abandons his friend Italo to a marching crowd of anti-fascists. We have to wonder if this is Marcello's absolution, has he truly resolved his trauma? Because, although he no longer feels guilt for his first murder, he has now just murdered the Quadris, so won't that just restore the same guilt he had just escaped? The film ends, therefore, with the audience wondering whether Marcello will ever truly reach an identity achievement, or if he will continue to be haunted by guilt and search for normality as 'the conformist.'

Accatone

Pier Paolo Pasolini was strongly influenced by Antonio Gramsci, one of the greatest influences of post-World War II Italian cinema. Gramsci's analysis of Italian history and particularly of the Risorgimento as a "passive"or failed revolution, led him to place a large emphasis on the importance of education. Since intellect was often associated with the upper-class this highlighted 'subaltern' groups in the middle and lower class who had their own intellect to share. As Landy explains, "they have their own sense of the world, of what is wrong and what is needful for survival," a concept closely related to the Italian folklore that "dramatizes age-old customs" and is "conducive to survival of the tragic obstacles the characters encounter in a world hostile to their interests." Thus, Accatone is a study of a subaltern community, where morality is not concrete, common sense is key, and the characters are caught between the hope of a better future, and the emptiness of the present.

During the 1950s, there was a strong push towards 'pink neorealism,' which Viano describes as "the attempt of some producers to turn Cinecittà into Europe's Hollywood." Then in the 1960s, a few young Italian producers encouraged a movement back to neorealism. They saw this as a way to increase Italy's cultural legitimacy. This led to the 'cinema d'autore,' with the low-budget films, like Accatone, that were part of Italy's very own 'nouvelle vague.' Pasolini was known for having a "passion for reality,"that also became the driving force behind his film theory and practice. Though his films took on many aspects of neorealism, it can be argued that Pasolini was not in fact a neorealist, but rather he brought a "certain realism" to the screen.

In postwar Italy, during the neorealist period, there was a strong sense that "good and evil were very distinct things." Pasolini and other directors came after, when good and evil were no longer easy to distinguish. Subsequently, Pasolini's early films Accatone and Mamma Roma, depict morally compromised characters on a long, painstaking, and tragic journey, with little hope for success or conflict resolution. The protagonist, Vittorio a.k.a Accatone, develops greatly as a character, though none of the issues are resolved. He goes from being a pimp living comfortably, to selling his prized possessions and manipulating a naive young woman, to trying to become part of the workforce, and slipping back into the life of a thief. In a world where everything is wrong, there can be no right ending, and so Accatone's untimely death is not a sad occasion (it has been foreshadowed since the opening scene) but rather it is an escape from the daily battle of good versus evil, and we are provided with a sense of relief that everything is finally at rest.

Roma, Cittá Aperta

According to Liehm, Roma, Cittá Aperta, is the first film of the neorealist movement, that would inspire numerous neorealist directors to come, such as Federico Fellini, who helped Rosellini during the shooting of Roma. Throughout the film, we notice several techniques that make Roma a classic neorealist film.

First, the themes of death, tragedy, and political turmoil are seen in various other neorealist films such as Antonioni's Zabriskie Point (the two protagonists are caught up in the political unrest of 1970s USA). Although death is not a theme in other neorealist films such as 8 1/2 or La Notte, the protagonist, Marcello Mastroianni, is often considered to be contemplating mortality or going through an existential crisis.

Second, Rossellini chose to use both professional and nonprofessional actors. Those who were trained were Italy's big stars who came from "la revista," like Anna Magnani: the mother of Rome. Equally, those actors who were not trained were picked for their roles because that is exactly who they were in real life. The use of nonprofessional actors has been used time and again, such as by Visconti, who often found his female protagonists in beauty pageants.

Another neorealist trait is rebelling against the establishment, whether it is Hollywood, Cinecittá, or Capitalism. In Roma, the main rebellion is against the Nazis, who are portrayed as stereotypical villainous monsters representing "eternal damnation." Religion, of course, is also commonly explored in neorealism film. Rossellini uses the engagement of Pina (Anna Magnani), a Catholic woman, and her fiancé, a resistance fighter, to represent the unity of the Church and the Communists. The solidarity created between these two opposing forces represents the patriotism of the Italian nation, coming together against the Nazi regime.

On the other hand, I believe the film is not only rebelling against the Nazis. Materialism may also play a role. Liehm explains this through Rosselini's focus on minor details, he calls "the things." The audience becomes very aware of the things in Pina's appartment, such as "her worn jacket and checkered scarf," or the things in Don Pietro's rectory. Materialism is also symbolized by Marina's choosing drugs over helping the resistance movement. She chooses short-term pleasures over the long-term justice and liberty of her country.

Overall, Roma has many examples of neorealist techniques. Whether it is truly the first is hard to say, but it certainly paved the way for many future Italian and Italian-American directors.

Bellissima

Bellissima, directed by Luchino Visconti, is the story of a melodramatic, middle-class mother, Maddelena (Anna Magnani), who is determined to have her daughter, Maria, win a beauty contest that will secure her a leading role in a new film. Maria is dragged from casting session, to photo shoot, to acting lessons, to dance rehearsal, so that she can become the star her mother never was. Magnani's character is chaotic and relentless, and although she sacrifices everything to help her daugher, her attempts are quite misguided. Eventually, Maria wins the contest and is offered a contract, but Maddelena finally realizes she has acted more out of her own unfulfilled desires than her daughter's best interests. The film ends when the contract is refused and the pair returns home.

Visconti uses Bellissima to mock the film industry, specifically Hollywood and it's Italian counterpart, Cinecitta. With the explosion of American films into Italian cinema’s after WWII, Italy's cultural identity was inundated with new perspectives, such as a woman's roles in society and changing beauty ideals. Bellissima provides commentary on both these issues.

In terms of women’s roles, Anna Magnani's character arguably represents a modern woman: independent, ambitious, and outspoken. For example, despite her husband’s disapproval of her plans for Maria, he has very little say in the matter as Maddelena takes complete control. Ironically, her goals for her daughter would not be considered modern. Beauty pageants present a much more traditional role for women, where looks are valued above most everything else. In this sense, Maddelena's struggle between modern and traditional symbolizes the Italian nation’s struggle between holding on to the past and making room for the future.

In terms of beauty ideals, Visconti – being a neorealist director – favors traditional beauty over the sexualized, manufactured beauty associated with Hollywood. Anna Magnani has the dark features traditionally found in Italian woman, and as she has come to be identified as the mother of Rome, audiences associate her as traditional. Furthermore, it is Italian tradition that “ beauty belongs in the face” and as we see countless times in Bellisima, Visconti tends to focus the camera on Magnani’s face rather than her figure. Once again, this represents Italy’s struggle between old values and new ideals.

Lost in Translation

Italian cinema of the post-war era placed significant emphasis on architecture. Examples include films like L’Avventura, Mamma Roma, and La Notte, in which the audience is often exposed to the contrast of urban cities with rural countryside, as well as the juxtaposition of decaying ruins in the middle of modern spaces. This idea was transferred into Italian-American cinema in Coppola’s, The Godfather, when we are presented with New York’s dangerous city streets and the quiet hills of Sicily. In these films, the architectural struggle of modern vs traditional may symbolically represent the character's struggle with identity, particularly masculinity vs feminitiy and, of course, Italian vs American culture. In Lost in Translation, Sofia Coppola, tackles the theme of identity as well as several others, including celebrity ennui, observer vs object, and cultural boundaries.

The identities of Sofia Coppola’s characters are generally very similar. The majority of them tend to struggle with what Orr defines as, “the risks and betrayals of everyday existence.” In The Virgin Suicides, the five Lisbon sisters all commit suicide, unable to deal with their daily lives; In Somewhere, a newly famous actor deals with an emotional disconnect from his celebrity lifestyle; In The Bling Ring, teenagers struggle to differentiate themselves from the celebrities they steal from. Just like many of Coppola’s others, her protagonists in Lost in Translation also suffer from existential crises and celebrity ennui.

Celebrity and stardom are themes explored by many of our Italian directors. Stardom or divismo can be seen as “a product of capitalism and the ideology of individualism.” (Landy, 267) Neo-modern directors have been known to criticize capitalism in many ways, such as Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point. In this case, directors are critiquing capitalism by making fun of celebrity, as can be seen in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, and Coppola’s Lost in Translation. Particularly humorous scenes from the latter include Bob’s photoshoot for Suntory Whiskey and his television interview.

Initially I had expected to find few similarities between Coppola and her male counterpart directors, however, it was clear from the themes explored and her cinematographic style that she was heavily influenced by them. Above all, I related her style to that of Fellini, based on her exploration of celebrity lifestyle, and also her use of time. Neo-modern directors like Coppola are not trying to create a reversion to ‘real’ time, rather they are correcting Hollywood’s neglect of time with its fast paced action-packed films. Sofia Coppola brings the audience back to a real perception of time, and connects us to characters experiencing the same identity crises as we are.

The Godfather

The Godfather’s Vows

1. A man that doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.

2. We don’t discuss business at the table.

3. Women and children can afford to be careless but not men.

4. Don’t ever take sides with someone against the family. Ever.

5. Don’t apologize for taking care of your family.

6. Never tell anyone outside the family what you’re thinking.

One of the aspects I found most interesting about the Godfather is marriage because it was used on numerous occasions to romanticize Coppola's broader themes of family, religion, and Italian-American culture. Throughout the film, Don Vito Corleone gives his sons advice on how to be a man. You may call them rules, or words of wisdom, or whatever you like, but to me they are vows. This became clear during the baptism scene, where Michael is ascending to his new role as Godfather and must repeatedly affirm to the priest, "I Do." Despite there being several other weddings that take place in the film, this is the only time we hear a character take a vow, and I don't think that is a coincidence. Thus marriage is more than just a connection of characters; it is a symbolic connection of the greater themes of the film.

"A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man." 
The first wedding takes place at the beginning of the film, when Corleone's daughter marries a famous singer/actor. This wedding is used to introduce the audience to the Godfather, who rather than enjoying his daughter's special day, is confined to his office conducting business. The fact that he is unable to be completely present in one event or the other shows how the business and family are completely intertwined, or "married."

"Women and children can afford to be careless but not men."
The second wedding takes place in Sicily, when Michael marries Apollonia. Saddly, this marriage does not last long, when a car bomb explodes and kills Apollonia. This also shows the connection between business and family. Ironically, in the same way the family is protected by the mafia, they are also in extreme danger just by association. Family is both a gangster's greatest strength and greatest weakness, and this is the lesson Michael learns. The death of his wife is a key turning point in Michael's transition to becoming the Godfather.

"Never tell anyone outside the family what you’re thinking."
A year after returning to America, Michael goes back to Kay, the non-Italian woman he was previously dating, who agrees to marry him in spite of his new role in the family. Their relationship represents the unity of Italian and American culture, specifically the traditional family role in contrast with WASP individualism and success ethic. Kay develops a dual identity as she remains both an outsider to the culture and business, but by marrying Michael, becomes an insider to the family. This also explains Michael's identity conflict between his Italian roots and his American freedom. Ultimately of course, his cultural roots win, as we see in the baptism - the real wedding - where Michael takes his vows, says "I do," and officially accepts his role as the Godfather.

Mean Streets

If you play with fire, you're going to get burned

Martin Scorcese's Mean Streets is about a young man's struggle between religion and culture. On the one hand, Charlie (Harvey Keitel) is on the rise in the ranks of the Italian mafia: collecting debts and building a reputation so that he may one day start his own business. On the other, he is a religious man trying to atone for his sins. But, as the audience learn from the opening lines of the film,

"You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it." 

The fact that this is a voice over, with Scorcese speaking on Charlie's behalf, is said to imply, "the director's identification with his character, whose religious attitudes and ambivalences he shares." (Gangster Priest, page 182/183)

Throughout the film, Scorcese uses fire to symbolize the inner conflict that Charlie is experiencing. He is often seen putting his finger to matches and flames insisting he is trying to learn a trick. During a bar fight, a table is overturned with a candle on it and when it is righted the candle has gone out. Towards the end of the film, Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro) uses a lighter to burn a ten dollar bill, a bill that wasn't good enough for loan shark Michael to accept as payback. Fire is constantly seen in conflict-filled scenes, particularly when Charlie is being forced to choose between morality (helping Johnny Boy) and convenience (going along with the mafia). Overall, this implies his struggle between his religious beliefs and Italian-American cultural expectations. In Italian and Irish Filmmakers, Lordeaux describes it as, "confronting social chaos with religion" (page 221).

Mean Streets is the third in a trilogy of Scorcese films exploring Italian American culture and religion. Although the main characters are different, there are certain continuations that can be noted. For example, the song at the end of Who's That Knocking At My Door? is in the opening credits of Mean Streets (Be My Baby by the Ronettes). In both of these films, the choice of music was very important to the audiences interpretations of the unfolding scenes. Both films have violent and rowdy scenes with the young Italian men fighting and playing with guns. These scenes are accompanied by incongruous music: rock and roll hits or latin beats that would be more appropriate for dancing and having a good time. The choice of music practically ridicules the young men and their violence. Rather than representing powerful masculinity, the characters are reduced to immature adolescents. This represents Scorcese's feelings on Italian American culture.

Another pattern in the trilogy is the female character. Teresa from Mean Streets (like her counterpart in Knocking) is ostracized from the community. In this case, it is her epilespy that separates her, because Charlie's uncle and local mafia boss, Giovanni, sees it as a mental illness and urges Charlie to stay away from her. We feel Charlie will eventually have to choose between loving her or satisfying his uncle. This choice represents what has become Scorcese's classic Italian-American dilemna: individuality and freedom or culture and security. By the end of the film, we get a sense that culture has won. The three rebels (Charlie, Teresa, and Johnny) who are trying to break free from their cultural chains are shot by the loan shark and crash their car. All survive, but as Charlie is escorted to an ambulance, we see a distinct look of defeat.

At the crash site, we notice a pipe has exploded and water is shooting into the sky. Water beats fire.

Who's That Knocking At My Door?

Does culture govern identity?

Scorcese poses this question to the audience in Who's That Knocking At My Door.

In making this film, Scorcese was influenced heavily by his Italian-American heritage, his childhood in New York, and the broader cultural movements of the era, such as the White Ethnic Revival (Cavallero, page 48).

Growing up in a tight-knit ethnic community and a heavy Roman Catholic presence, Scorcese began to examine the effects they had on his identity. Knocking is allegedly the second film in a trilogy of films (ultimately ending with Mean Streets in 1973) that uses the protagonist, J.R. (Harvey Keitel) as Scorcese's alter ego (Casillo, page 132).

J.R.'s character can be described as la bella figura, a young man struggling with his identity, particularly in terms of masculinity. He seems to cling to adolescence, demonstrating his immaturity and misogynistic view of women. We also see the influence of Catholicism and it's overemphasis on suffering, which perhaps leads to J.R. exaggerating adolescent confusion for adult trauma. For example, in the scene in the church, the audience expect to see J.R.'s spiritual connection with his faith, however do to the incongruous rock and roll music, we instead detect an inconsitency with J.R.'s identity and the religion he clings to through his ethnic roots.

Equally disconcerting is the slow motion scene with J.R's rowdy and rambunctious crew, which culminates in one friend being dragged across the room with a gun in his face as the others, including J.R., scamper off. Scorcese's choice of music is particularly interesting here. Although the lively Cuban music contrasts heavily with the scene, I would argue that it adds significantly to the audience's understanding. The music is energetic, masculine, and entertaining, which describes the scene perfectly even though the actual song seems out of place. Since there is no dialogue, we rely on the music to help illustrate the mood of the party. The men are drinking, smoking, and everyone is laughing. 

Then, a gun is pulled out and waved around at the men who are still laughing and pointing back as though they too are holding guns. Suddenly, things get a little out of control. A man is yanked around aggressively with the gun in his face, and we start to worry that someone might get shot. Yet, Scorcese's Cuban music continues to play, helping the audience to recognize that everything is a game to these boys. None of the characters show any hint of responsibility or maturity; no one protests or tries to help. At this point, J.R. has completely succumbed to this cultural stereotype of trivialized violence, as he dashes out of the room with his group. This leads the audience to believe that culture does indeed govern identity. But if that is not enough, there is another aspect to consider.

Throughout the film, we notice closing doors, turning locks, and shutting windows. For example, Scorcese will show the windows being shut, then cut to J.R., then show the same windows shutting again. Another example is the Cuban music scene, as previously mentioned, where you see several different takes of J.R. leaving the room, shown one after the other. In my opinion, these deja-vu-like repetitions create a sense of alternate realities, as though things could have happened differently...but didn't. Scorcese's repetition of shots playing out the same way each time, perhaps suggest that we cannot escape fate; our fate is decided in our cultural identity, and our individuality is not strong enough to deviate from it.


References
Cavallero, Hollywood's Italian American Filmmakers
Casillo, Gangster Priest

La Notte

 La Notte is the story of Giovanni and Lidia, a couple whose marriage rapidly disintegrates over the course of 24 hours. Giovanni is a handsome, intelligent, successful author played by Marcello Mastroianni, and, just like in Fellini’s 8 ½, represents “the Latin Lover.” Lidia (Jeanne Moreau) is the typical Latin Lover wife, a woman who tries to “rebel against, but ultimately succumbs to, his whip.” (page 334). Meanwhile, Valentina (Monica Vitti) is the beauty that catches Giovanni’s eye and forces him into his usual pattern of infidelity. In keeping with L’Avventura, Antonioni’s previous film, Monica Vitti, is not a main character at the beginning of the film, but by the end is clearly dominant. Though Giovanni tries to convince Lidia that he still loves her, she has already fallen out of love with him and so the marriage dies in a dusty sand dune.

One of the main themes in Antonioni's, La Notte, is mirror images. One of the very first images we are presented with is a reflection of Milan. The fact that the camera is descending down a skyscraper rather than ascending up it, suggests decay, as if the building is being deconstructed. This reflects the decaying marriage of Giovanni and Lidia. Furthermore, Antonioni may be implying his views on modernism since Milan represents a fast paced, industrial city. He may feel that the city reflects a cultural need to create progress and yet the deconstructed skyscraper may be interpreted as a loss of progress. Therefore, perhaps modernism is a forward movement with a backwards outcome; a movement towards destruction. The more we try to innovate, improve, and advance, the more we devastate.

Milan as the reflection of  modernism

A second example of the mirror image theme is the relationship between Giovanni and his good friend Tomaso. Tomaso may be Gioavanni’s alter ego: a physical reflection of Giovanni’s psychological struggle. Lying in the hospital, Tomaso is struggling with death, while Giovanni is struggling to live. He seems out of touch with his writing (similar to his directing in 8 ½) and he is also out of touch with his wife Lidia. So, while Tomaso is deteriorating physically, Giovanni is weakening mentally as an individual, and as one half of a marriage.

Tomaso as the reflection of Giovanni's struggle

A third example is Valentina, who Antonioni introduces with mirror play as seen in the image below. Not only is there a reflection in the window, but as Giovanni pursues her, we discover she may actually be his mirror image. She is the mirror image of Giovanni in a way a wife never could be; The closer he gets to obtaining her, the closer he gets to his own reflection in the mirror, which requires a closer reflection of himself and his choices. It seems he will never actually be with Valentina because winning her would reflect his success as a man but his failure as a husband and this creates some sort of cognitive dissonance that he is unable to live with. Therefore, he is reduced to neither being truly in love with Lidia, nor truly in love with Valentina.

Valentina as the reflection of Giovanni's downfall

Reference

Italian Film by Marcia Landy

8 1/2

In La Dolce Vita, “Mastroianni became the dark, mysterious, and sexy Italian male,” (page 25). My first question was, how does this image change in Fellini’s 8 1/2? I feel that on many levels it doesn’t. Mastroianni's character, Guido, continues to possess several characteristics of the Latin lover, which were carried over from his role in La Dolce Vita. For example, his fashionable costumes still mark him as an elegant “Don Juan.” This represents the Italian aspect of the Latin Lover, as opposed to the Latin American version, which is usually embodied by lower class characters (think West Side Story). Particularly notable are Guido's retro sunglasses, which he often wears to conceal his thoughts, such as when his wife, Luisa, is interrogating him about his mistress Carla. Moreover, it is the many women in Guido's life that exemplify him as the Latin lover. In the flashback/dream sequence where Guido is in the house with all the women, at one point they all turn on him, intending to shame him for his many affairs, but in the end they seem to give up. The fact that women surround him may automatically make him appear to be “a dandy,” even though he seems to deny it.

At the same time, Guido is also seen as an “Inetto,” (page 39). This is another side to the Latin lover: a "schlemiel," an inept character characterized by his failures. Fellini uses this as another way to create emotional conflict for the audience. Despite our dislike for Guido's infidelity, we still want him feel sorry for his struggles and hope to see a change in the course of the film. We hope to see him settle down with one woman, possibly the beautiful Claudia, who he seems quite taken with toward the end of the film. However, in true Fellini style, Guido is the anti-hero, and the audience is given no such satisfaction of seeing him triumph. Instead, the film ends with a gun, and all the characters dancing, holding hands, and wearing white.

The variety of roles that the men and women take on, particularly the unfaithful characters, are a perfect example of how 8 1/2 stands out from other films of its time. Fellini pushes the limits of what were acceptable character roles and relationships at the time. 8 1/2 was released in 1963, a new age for Italy full of new possibilities. However, during the fascist regime and Mussolini's rise to power, few Italian films were being produced; many more were imported from the United States. Those that made it to the screen were heavily edited so that all content was in line with current political propaganda. 8 1/2 did not suffer from this, and so Fellini had free reign over creativity.

Still, there are certain aspects of the film that reveal Fellini's political agenda. I believe he found ways to poke fun at Italy’s recently overthrown political system, for example through his use of architecture in the film. According to Reich, “Italy has been seen – and has seen itself – as a backward as opposed to a modern nation.” (Page 26) In my opinion, Fellini's use of architecture reflects Italy's lack of modernity. I believe he intentionally portrayed the Italian political environment as a decaying system through his use of ancient statues surrounding the gardens, as well as the crumbling ruins seen in the background of Guido’s dreams of his mother and father.

Furthermore, the architecture contrasts with the elegantly dressed characters, who strolled around their spa facility. Fellini's use of wartime orchestral pieces, such as Flight of the Valkyries, heavily contrasts with the fragile, relaxed patients walking around the grounds, and instead of a relaxing spa, it felt more like a mental hospital or asylum. I felt that this may have been Fellini's way of making fun of the upper class who inhabited the spa/hospital by portraying them as insane.

Although these interpretation may not be shared by others, at the very least they imply the confusion the audience feels while watching the film, not only from the strange soundtrack, but also the scenes of flashbacks and dreams. In the same way that the viewer is not always able to discern reality scenes from dream scenes, Guido seems to be stuck between the two as well. Overall, 8 1/2 may be summed up as one man's struggle between his personal life and his professional life. It is up to us to decide which one is the dream world, and which one is real.

References

Jacqueline Reich, Beyond the Latin Lover

Carlo Celli and Marga Cottino-Jones, A New Guide to Italian Cinema