Expensive Moral Destruction with a Glimmer of Hope: La Dolce Vita and the Upper Class
Expensive Moral Destruction with a Glimmer of Hope: La Dolce Vita and the Upper Class
The films from Federico Fellini have never been afraid of taking viewers through a corrupt, dark world that is often filled with those who are less than desirable. He takes his protagonists through these worlds hoping that they can find some light in the night, but he never forces it upon them; he lets the decision be an active one for his heroes. For example, the title character in Nights of Cabiria is literally left with nothing but her life and the clothes on her back, yet she finds the strength within herself to continue on with a smile on her face, and thus leaving the film with a happy ending. However, not all of Fellini’s protagonists were created equal, and so some of them must succumb to the fortunes and material goods surrounding them, as is the case for Marcello Rubini in Fellini’s 1960 film La Dolce Vita. Yet the film does not fail to leave an audience with some faint yet forever shining light of hope once more in the form of a smile. So while La Dolce Vita guides the viewer through the morally corrupt decadence found within Italy’s upper class as the economy finally began to boom after World War II, Fellini never fails to show the heart of the Italian people at the center of it all.
La Dolce Vita, which somewhat ironically translates to “the sweet life,” is the story of Marcello Rubini, a journalist in Rome, who is more akin to what is now known as “paparazzi” than anything resembling a true journalist. The film has an unusual narrative structure, as it is an episodic tale that guides Marcello through seven different episodes of his life. These include a rendezvous with a secret lover, an assignment with a famous actress, an evening with friends, a false miracle, a night out with Marcello’s father, a party with aristocrats, and yet another party after the destruction of Marcello’s moral core. Each episode of the film is designed to shed new light on both Marcello and the world around him.
Interestingly, Fellini chooses to open the film with a prologue, one that largely encapsulates the film as a whole. It opens with a wide shot of two helicopters in the distance, one transporting a statue of Jesus Christ and the other transporting Marcello. This can be read as Marcello chasing something wholesome, such as Christianity was typically thought of throughout most of Italy; however, he cannot stay pure forever. As the two helicopters go further into the city there are shots of citizens on the streets below looking up and waving to the helicopters, but it is unclear as to which helicopter they are waving to. It is a subtle way for Fellini to introduce the wavering importance of faith in modern Italian times. Not without coincidence from Fellini, the helicopter carrying the statue continues on, while Marcello becomes distracted by women in bikinis on a rooftop. It is here that Fellini largely lays the groundwork for the subject he will be exploring during the rest of the film’s three-hour runtime. Instead of continuing on with the statue of Christ, Marcello stops and gives into his carnal desires, as will be the case multiple times throughout the film. Yet what is equally important here to note is a sense of innocence that runs rampant throughout the scene. For example, while the viewer may not know exactly who the people on the ground are waving to, there is a sense of joy and happiness from them. And even with Marcello, there is an innocent way he interacts with the girls on the rooftop that, regardless of its foreshadowing of things to come, can only bring about a sense of happiness.
However, not every segment in La Dolce Vita cannot entirely carry such a light, hopeful nature, as is the case with the film’s fourth episode. This episode involves Marcello traveling to cover a supposed sighting of the Madonna. Most of the critiques within this episode don’t even involve Marcello so much as they involve those flocking to the site in order to use the supposed sighting as a way to atone for their sins. It is abundantly clear to the audience in the theatre that the two children to have reported the sighting are merely milking the publicity and attention for all that they can. Fellini never lets the energy fall below its highest level in these scenes, constantly pulling the camera back into wide shots to show the massive crowds flocking from one area of the site to another. He uses cameras within the scene and without to examine how the public allowed the bastardization of Christianity, which was not a message that was well received by the Catholic Church at the time of the film’s release. In fact, as Bondanella explains in his book The Films of Federico Fellini, “they regarded it as a film that not only reflected a decline of religious fervor in Italy but as a work of art that was actually instrumental in pulling the faithful away from the church” (66). Yet the Church did not realize Fellini was not mocking the Church, but rather giving a bird’s eye view of what the people had allowed themselves to become. If anything, the episode of the film is a call to arms for the Italian people to change their ways.
While the fourth episode by itself is remarkably dark in its depiction of the current decadence, it ultimately resolves itself with a bittersweet ending to the film as a whole. The film can also be viewed as being modeled after Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, which took readers on a journey into the depths of darkness and back out again. This reading fits in with Fellini’s overall message in the film, which is that not all is lost for the Italian people, or even just humanity as a whole. This is evidenced in the film’s concluding moments. After a night of debauchery, Marcello and his friends arrive on a beach, discovering a monster fish that has washed dead on the shore. It is an obvious symbol further establishing the destruction of Christianity and good morals; however, the film does not end on the image of old, jaded Marcello gazing upon the fish, but rather it continues to reintroduce a character from earlier in the film: Paola, a young, kind spirited girl who Marcello met prior. There is an attempt for communication between Paola and Marcello, but there is also a vast gulf between them, both literally and figuratively. Here is another moment in which Fellini could end the film, showing Marcello walking off into the distance, but he doesn’t. Instead, Fellini closes the film with a close up of Paola smiling into the camera. This final shot is, as Bondanella writes in A History of Italian Cinema, “an image of purity and innocence that is juxtaposed (but not necessarily triumphantly) against the corruption that has preceded it” (Bondanella 292). So while the film’s ending is wholly bittersweet, it is also a reminder from Fellini to the audience that the moral corruption does not have to be the defining trait of the Italian people.
Fellini’s examination of overindulgence can be seen as an influence even today, as shown in Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street. In fact, both films are three hour long journeys through “la dolce vita.” Yet the interesting difference is between Fellini’s optimism and Scorsese’s pessimism. Neither film finds their protagonist receiving any comeuppance, but Scorsese goes a step further than Fellini and ultimately criticizes the audience for letting the film’s true story occur in the first place. But while the times and aggressions have changed, a viewer of La Dolce Vita today would have a hard time arguing against the poignant nature of the film’s ending and overall message.
Works Cited
Bondanella, Peter. The Films of Federico Fellini. London: Cambridge Film Classics, 2002. Print.
-. A History of Italian Cinema. New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013. Print.
La Dolce Vita. Dir. Fellini, Federico. Prod. Amato, Giuseppe. Perf. Mastroianni, Marcello. Astor Pictures, 1961. Film.
Originally published at http://www.tumblr.com on December 5, 2014.
