8½

' But then is there anything so clear and right that it deserves to live in this world? In the end what we need is some hygiene, some cleanliness, disinfection. We're smothered by images, words and sounds that have no right to exist, coming from, and bound for, nothingness. Of any artist truly worth the name we should ask nothing except this act of faith: to learn silence.


Our true mission is sweeping away the thousands of miscarriages that every day obscenely try to come to the light. And how do you benefit from stringing together the tattered pieces of your life? Your vague memories, the faces of people you were never able to love...

---

What is this sudden happiness that makes me tremble, giving me strength, life? Forgive me, sweet creatures. I hadn't understood. I didn't know. It's so natural accepting you, loving you. And so simple. I feel I've been freed. Everything seems so good, so meaningful. Everything is true. I wish I could explain. But I don't know how to. So. Everything is confused again, as it was before.


This confusion is me. Not as I'd like to be, but as I am. I'm not afraid anymore of telling the truth, of the things I don't know, what I'm looking for and haven't found. This is the only way I can feel alive and I can look into your faithful eyes without shame. Life is a celebration. Accept me for what I am, if you want me. '


-An excerpt from 8½
   By Federico Fellini



One of the most incredible films I have seen yet.
Fellini constructed an autobiopic (not literal per se, but beyond stage names a biopic most definitely,) that acknowledges the vanity and shallowness that results from the denial of human weakness; the confusion of our essence and failures; our delusions of wealth and greatness. He does not claim purity or genius here, but provides us a narrative of the human condition when confronted with temptation. He is easy to hate, and in spite of that, (or because of that,) easy to identify with. If we analyze beyond the aesthetics, this is about us.

Temptations, though, cannot stop our momentary realizations of our purpose and its simplicity. We feel it in waves; grazing the shores, but are drawn back into a sea of abstraction until one day, when we become tide pools and cannot be pulled back into the depth and draw of darkness. It is my sentiment that the greatest art comes from this transitional place: what we bring back with us when our waves break is what allows us flourishing intellect.

Also recommended, La Dolce Vida.