THE LIFE NOT SO SWEET

By Raymond Benson

The title of Federico Fellini’s landmark, influential 1960 film La dolce vita (“The Sweet Life”) is ironic. Marcello (exquisitely played by Marcello Mastroianni) is a Rome journalist working in the tabloid trade, specializing in stories of the rich and famous. While Marcello’s day-to-day existence might indeed at first seem like the sweet life, he is, in fact, a lonely, unhappy soul. And that’s the point of Fellini’s comedy-drama that still manages to enlighten audiences today, fifty-four years later. Fellini seems to be saying that no matter how hard you pursue “the sweet life,” you will still be left with yourself—and if you don’t like yourself, then you’re in trouble.

La dolce vita was released just as the French New Wave was making a splash, when America’s Production Code was being chipped away at, and when Italy was making the painful transition from the post-war doldrums to the hipster avant-garde 60s. Fellini’s movie signaled his own creative evolution from his early Italian Neo-Realist beginnings to a more surreal, playful, and stylized sensibility that would grow more outrageous as the decade went on. La dolce vita is mostly in the neo-realist vein of Nights of Cabiria and La Strada, but Fellini always adds an extra touch of whimsy and peculiarity to his pictures that the hardcore neo-realists like De Sica or Rossellini didn’t do. And that’s what made him Fellini.

The nearly three-hour movie is a Homeric odyssey of sorts as Marcello spends seven days and nights on assignment for his tabloid, chasing down famous actress (Anita Ekberg in an iconic role as “herself”), the purported sighting of the Madonna, and other sensational stories—but mostly he’s chasing the nightlife, love, attention, and intellectual intercourse with Rome’s elite. And women, of course. Marcello is the ultimate playboy, a persona that would follow the actor Mastroianni his entire life. Through the episodic film, Marcello encounters sex, debauchery, pathos, and tragedy. But never happiness.

Fellini’s film was controversial at the time for revealing the underbelly of Rome’s “sweet life,” and mostly for offending the Catholic Church with the opening scene of a helicopter flying a suspended statue of Christ over ancient ruins in the city—perceived as parodying the “second coming.” But offending the Catholic Church with film in the early 60s was a badge of honor—nearly every important and innovative picture was guilty of it. The bravura opening sequence aside, the picture was still deemed scandalous for exposing Rome’s hypocrisies and decadence in a “docu-drama” that tackles sex, religion, and politics.

Even within its realism, Fellini’s touches of extravagance are everywhere. Characters become caricatures to be gawked at. The ever-present Fellini prostitutes are simultaneously human and grotesque. The costumes (Oscar winner) themselves are glorious and so utterly “modern.” The widescreen black and white cinematography by Otello Martelli is gorgeous with striking contrasts, especially on Criterion’s new 4K digital restoration by The Film Foundation. It looks even better than the Fox/Lorber restored special edition that came out on DVD a few years ago.

You might want to hold on to that Fox/Lorber edition, though, for The Criterion Collection’s version does not have the same extras—in fact, the earlier DVD edition has the better crop of goodies. That said, Criterion brings us a number of new extras that are well worth the purchase price of the Blu-ray. Among these are a new interview with director Lina Wertmuller, who was assistant director on the picture (whatever happened to her?); a new interview with scholar David Forgacs about the period in Italian history when the film was made; a vintage interview with Fellini from 1965; an audio interview with Mastroianni from the early 60s; Felliniana, a presentation of La dolce vita ephemera; an exceptional visual essay by filmmaker :: kogonada which reveals the clues that Fellini is moving away from neo-realism and into more fanciful territory; and more. Gary Giddens provides the essay in the booklet.

La dolce vita is one of the greats. If you don’t already own it, now’s the time to get it.

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