There is a roll of directors of whom one must claim to be an encomiast, if one wants to be held as an intelligent, sensitive person. Regardless of one's inner and uncontrollable reactions to their work, the mandatory comments as the credits go by are "what a masterpiece!", "best Italian director ever!", "delightful and subtle!" and the like -- well, unless there is no one around. Thus, let us leave the unqualified praise to the wannabe intellectuals and talk sincerely about this one.
"And the ship sails'" famous opening sequence may look interesting when you hear of it, with its silence and sepia colors ushering you into 1914, but watching its lousy sketches amid Italian proverbial disorder is not exactly thrilling. After the first metalinguistic appearance of the journalist Orlando and a short singing by the passengers, they go aboard, the ships leaves port, and the movie actually begins.
The music is splendid, and the scenery and the costumes do not fall short of it. A scent of affection and artificiality pervades the whole movie, but that is quite inevitable with all that opera singing. To my surprise, the meta-linguistics represented in the journalist's character does not hamper the natural flow of the sequences. On the contrary, his peaceful nature sets a welcome contrast with the austerity around him.
A real contrast, though, only takes place as the Serbians refugees are sheltered on the ship. Not that it is thoroughly explored by Fellini. Truth is, surprisingly as it may seem, he never abandons a rather superficial display of the relations that develop above the sea, both of the passengers between one another and between them and the Serbians. Sociology is not to be found here; beauty and pureness is what this movie is about.
"And the ship sails'" famous opening sequence may look interesting when you hear of it, with its silence and sepia colors ushering you into 1914, but watching its lousy sketches amid Italian proverbial disorder is not exactly thrilling. After the first metalinguistic appearance of the journalist Orlando and a short singing by the passengers, they go aboard, the ships leaves port, and the movie actually begins.
The music is splendid, and the scenery and the costumes do not fall short of it. A scent of affection and artificiality pervades the whole movie, but that is quite inevitable with all that opera singing. To my surprise, the meta-linguistics represented in the journalist's character does not hamper the natural flow of the sequences. On the contrary, his peaceful nature sets a welcome contrast with the austerity around him.
A real contrast, though, only takes place as the Serbians refugees are sheltered on the ship. Not that it is thoroughly explored by Fellini. Truth is, surprisingly as it may seem, he never abandons a rather superficial display of the relations that develop above the sea, both of the passengers between one another and between them and the Serbians. Sociology is not to be found here; beauty and pureness is what this movie is about.