Everyone seemed to expect something special from Fellini later in life, as if all that had gone before was just preparation for a master oeuvre that would make us fall to our knees. In that sense, he kept disappointing, and with this film probably more than most. There's nothing here but quaintness and nostalgia, with a gentle, almost Tati-esquire humour – intellectually, he was going backwards, if anything. Twenty-odd years later, Fellini is now fully in context and it is easier to accept. This is what Fellini did – like it or not - the simple observation of harmless caricatures, which is actually engaging, enjoyable, even a little intriguing. Nobody is intrinsically good or bad; everyone is a set of circumstances, more or less fortunate or unfortunate; nobody harbours grudges – even here – especially here, on the eve of World War I, the end of a golden era of genteel innocence.
The first time I watched this I took against Freddie Jones' MC character. This time I liked him, or rather sympathised with him – mainly on account of the fact that since then I used to live in the next village to him in Oxfordshire where he was a well-known and amiable local character. Still regrettable though that he was clearly directed here to copy Giuletta Masina's gestures and mannerisms as closely as possible. As a journalist following events, he introduces us to the passengers on a luxury liner taking a group of opera singers, impresarios and dignitaries – including the Austrian Grand Duke – to the funeral-at-sea of a beloved diva. All of them are eccentric or charming in their own way and a succession of quaint scenes ensues as the voyage progresses – including a hypnotised chicken, a sickly rhinoceros, and a memorable scene in which the singers perform for the stokers high above the boiler room (quite a bit of this was clearly parasitised by Tornatore in "The Legend of 1900").
It all has a deliberate artificiality about it. The sea, rising and falling serenely behind the windows, is, on closer examination, made of plastic sheet. At the end, the camera pulls back to display the set and the crew – a simple indication that we are all part of some grander machination, that we are all a bunch of fools on a sinking ship, and if we all took life a little less seriously, we might enjoy it a good deal more. Once you've got in the right frame of mind, this is highly enjoyable.
The first time I watched this I took against Freddie Jones' MC character. This time I liked him, or rather sympathised with him – mainly on account of the fact that since then I used to live in the next village to him in Oxfordshire where he was a well-known and amiable local character. Still regrettable though that he was clearly directed here to copy Giuletta Masina's gestures and mannerisms as closely as possible. As a journalist following events, he introduces us to the passengers on a luxury liner taking a group of opera singers, impresarios and dignitaries – including the Austrian Grand Duke – to the funeral-at-sea of a beloved diva. All of them are eccentric or charming in their own way and a succession of quaint scenes ensues as the voyage progresses – including a hypnotised chicken, a sickly rhinoceros, and a memorable scene in which the singers perform for the stokers high above the boiler room (quite a bit of this was clearly parasitised by Tornatore in "The Legend of 1900").
It all has a deliberate artificiality about it. The sea, rising and falling serenely behind the windows, is, on closer examination, made of plastic sheet. At the end, the camera pulls back to display the set and the crew – a simple indication that we are all part of some grander machination, that we are all a bunch of fools on a sinking ship, and if we all took life a little less seriously, we might enjoy it a good deal more. Once you've got in the right frame of mind, this is highly enjoyable.