His
name evokes images of clowns and courtesans, giants and dwarfs, of
careless decadence and breathtaking beauty. In his hands, the ordinary
becomes magical, yet his films have been called anti-feminist and
blasphemous. I'm not a Fellini expert or a film critic, but I try to be
a good feminist and appreciate art. I feel Fellini spoke to me; not
surprising given his background appealing to the proles in the rural
circus. He "loved" women, in the way that could make a good feminist
suspicious, but it is also clear he loved people, and Rome, and Love,
and his art, among other things. At least it so appears to me from
multiple viewings of most of his films. I am comfortable with his
visions; I would be comfortable to be the subject of his camera even
though his portrayals of men show them at their most ridiculous and
pathetic and frail. His work is suffused with a passion for life,
lending dignity to pathos and tenderness to absurdity. And sometimes,
the other way around.We
see Il Maestro here directing Amarcord, a vaguely
autobiographical pastiche of memories and portraits, but his most
popular and accessible
film, with the possible exception of 8 1/2, a perennial on the art-film
circuit. Amarcord
is simply a wonderful film, nostalgic, touching and hilarious.