8 ½

8 ½ is a joyous movie experience, a foreign language classic and a towering artistic achievement. Surrealistic cinema is as old as cinema itself, but rarely has it probed one character’s psychology so completely. There is a whimsy, a sense that anything can and will take flight at any point in time. Many movies have been described as charming and here is one that actually lives up to that description.

8 ½ tells the story of Guido (Marcello Mastroianni), an Italian director during the height of Neo-Realist cinema. He feels creatively blocked, and continuously escapes into his memories and boundless imagination. Cracking under the pressures of being the most well-known Neo-Realist director, he escapes to a spa and brings with him his longtime mistress. It’s a pity that he won’t be able to actually escape, since the studio, producers, designers, etc. have followed him there.

Federico Fellini was obviously working out his own issues on the screen. And if any of this sounds relatively familiar, the musical Nine was based off of this. But it was tremendously inferior to this film. This is yet another case of the original being superior to the remake, no matter if the remake was gussied up as a lavish musical.

Marcello Mastroianni, with his aged good looks and charmingly roguish air, is as perfect as always. I wonder how much of his performance was based upon Fellini and how much was his own creation. He worked with Fellini enough times to gain a good enough grasp to do an imitation, and repeating leading actors are often considered to be attractive variations of their directors. For instance, what are Johnny Depp’s lovable odd-balls creations if not variations on Tim Burton’s own psyche and quirky personality? Regardless, it is a wonderful performance that anchors the film in some semblance of reality, but has just enough hints and giggles bubbling underneath to work with the whimsy.

And let us discuss the whimsy! I love the incredibly fine, infinitely porous line between reality, fantasy and memory. I found no trouble in deciphering which was which, and I don’t believe that I would have minded getting lost amongst them, anyway. The imagined scene where his mistress and his wife meet-up and greet each other with open arms, kisses and anecdotes slowly turns into a scene where he lives in a house filled with women he has loved, wanted to love and have loved him. This is not a man who is fulfilled and caressed by these memories and imaginings, he seems more possessed. Like these feverish daydreams are slowly driving him closer to a nervous breakdown, weighing upon his soul and emotionally constipating them. It’s all in how Marcello furrows around the eyes and mouth.

I can understand that 8 ½ will not be to everyone’s liking, it requires a strict attention span, a tolerance for whimsy, an urge not for a narrative but for an experience. I do love a good narrative, but I also love a good experience. A great piece of art works on many levels, and so this does. There is a narrative, however thin but solidly told, but there is also a great and joyous experience to be had. What can I say? I was charmed by this man filled with lust and Catholic guilt.