Polar Bear's Film Journal

Set in Rome during the 1950s, La Dolce Vita follows the life of journalist Marcello Rubini over the course of seven days and seven nights. Despite being what most would consider an art film, it still did extremely well at the box office upon release, and had a hefty budget during production too. It was a turning point in Fellini’s career, as he was leaving behind his earlier neorealist style, which can be seen in films such as Nights of Cabiria and La Strada, and beginning to direct more surreal, dream-influenced films. La Dolce Vita’s popularity and success earned him the title of ‘il maestro’ in Italy and solidified his name in history.

La Dolce Vita examines multiple sects of Italian culture during the 1950s, turning the film into a symbol of the times. The title translates into English as ‘the sweet life’, which is a satirical comment as Fellini portrays, through Marcello, how this so called ’sweet life’ can be destructive and empty. Naturally, the film features a lot of social criticism. It looks at the decaying state of society in Italy and the moral corruption of the bourgeoisie, which we are shown clearly in their parties and lifestyles. Peter Bondanella refers to La Dolce Vita as a “dizzying ride through the present seen through the eyes of a director who examines a world without grace – a decadent, even corrupt world without God.” At times, La Dolce Vita captures the frantic obsession of the Italian people with the media, and the film even has the honour of having birthed the term ‘paparazzi’, which was taken from the name of Marcello’s assistant and photographer, Paparazzo.

Throughout La Dolce Vita we see Marcello’s attempts to turn his life around and his desire to make something more of himself. Unfortunately, he is trapped inside a lifestyle of empty encounters and unfulfilled spiritual endeavours. Both the opening and closing scenes show a theme of failed communication. In the beginning, Marcello cannot speak or hear over the sounds of helicopter blades. Then, in the famous final scene, he is distanced from the young girl by a stream and is too far away to hear what she is saying. However, these two scenes are intrinsically different in meaning. In the opening scene Marcello is simply trying to get the phone numbers of the pretty girls. This is a sacrilegious aspect of his personality and defines him for us as a playboy with loose morals. The final scene is in contrast to this, as the young girl represents many of the ideals Marcello wished to attain for himself, but failed to achieve. She is an angelic figure who is trying to encourage him to pursue his dream of becoming a real writer. Marcello turns away from her as he is unable to understand her message, thereby choosing to stick with his life of depravity and sin and acknowledge that he is incapable of rising above it and going after his true potential. He is unable to make the necessary change to purify himself.

Fellini’s direction in La Dolce Vita is nothing short of fantastic. There is an immaculate sense of style and intimacy in his long camera movements and use of music. He brings the screen alive and makes it move with his characters. Because of Fellini’s love for Italy, despite its decaying social state, he still portrays Rome, at least visually, as a beautiful place. There is something indescribable, something magical hiding inside Fellini’s mise-en-scène. He does not slow down to capture dialogue, nor does he speed up to accommodate action, he simply lets everything flow together in perfect harmony. One scene which epitomizes Fellini’s style for me, as well as illustrates everything I look for in cinema, is the fountain scene in La Dolce Vita. As Marcello lusts after the beautiful Anita Ekberg and finds himself waist deep in water, something both mysterious and devastating happens, the water stops running. In a single moment of a single shot Fellini is able to illustrate the entire message of his film. It is so simple and articulate, expressive and heartbreaking. Realization comes just as hard and fast for Marcello as it does for us as the viewer; the ’sweet life’ is hollow, empty and an ultimately unrewarding pursuit. Moments like this one are what make La Dolce Vita not only my favourite film of 1960, but also my favourite film of all time, from my favourite director, Federico Fellini, the Italian master.