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SDG

La Strada

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SDG   

I can't even begin to remember the last time I sat down to watch a universally hailed classic for the first time and got to the end not only feeling like I had gotten not a thing out of it, but half incredulous that anyone else could claim to have done so either.

So here I am laying my drooling neanderthal reaction on the line. I just finished watching Fellini's La Strada, and I enjoyed it about as much as Zampano would have done. In fact, I'm sure Gelsomina or Il Matto would have gotten much more out of it than I did.

Actually, since finishing the film I've perused a number of reviews and essays, including Acquarello's whom I so often find uniquely helpful, and as yet I'm not only unpersuaded, I don't even see the point. I also watched much of Scorsese's introduction on the DVD, who talked (as a number of other people have done) about

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some sort of "redemption" that Zampano arrives at through his compassion for Gelsomino. Uh huh. I'm sure it's my own deficit of compassion for Zampano that prevents me from seeing it, and if I were a better Christian perhaps La Strada would be a deeper film.

At least I'm reasonably confident that the issue isn't merely idiotic expectations conditioned by a hundred thousand Hollywood studio films that teach us all that a fellow as unrelentingly brutal as Zampano always falls off a cliff in the last reel, or that he gets shot by John Wayne, or something of the sort. I think I'm past that actually. I can revel in a picture like The Son which confounds the Hollywood dogma that if your son is killed, you take murderous revenge on the killer, and I don't walk way from La Strada all, "But he didn't get his comeuppance!" Nor do I think I need to be spoon-fed tidy little morals with my cinema, or I wouldn't be as profoundly engaged by Dekalog as I am.

But at the end of La Strada, all I've gotten out of it is

spoilers1.gif

an unremittingly grim story about a big stupid bully who is mean to a sweet idiot and accidentally kills a dopey cut-up, and then the sweet idiot dies and the big stupid bully goes and cries on the beach like he's had some big profound spiritual awakening. And that's after reading all the stuff about, look, the guy on the tightrope is suspended between heaven and earth, and Zampano represents the flesh and Gelsomina is the spirit and Il Matto is the mind, etc., etc.

Is the power of the film simply the impact of the imagery and morality-tale like story on the imagination and memory? To be sure, I'll remember this movie vividly till the day I die. Then again, I could say the same for Barry Levinson's Toys.

So, all-y'all cineastes, 'splain it to me in nice short words that a dolt like me can understand. Why is this a great film?

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I haven't seen this film -- or most other Fellini films -- so I only skimmed your post, SDG, but I have to ask, have you seen Nights of Cabiria?

In our thread on that film, I quoted a bit from Lloyd Baugh's book on Christ figures in film ("To imagine how the protagonists of La strada and Nights of Cabiria can be considered Christ-figures, we have to adjust downward our spiritual sights..."), but I snipped out most of the La Strada bits in order to focus on the Cabiria bits.

Edited by Peter T Chattaway

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SDG   

Peter,

I believe the only other Fellini I've seen is 8 1/2.

As for Baugh's comment about adjusting our sights downward and seeing Christ-figures in odd places -- hey, I got no problem with that. If you wanna call Satine in Moulin Rouge! a Christ-figure, or Joel in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or the dog in Old Yeller, I'm cool. In the case of La Strada, I got no problem seeing Gelsomina or Il Matto as a Christ figure, per se (assuming Baugh meant one of them and not Zampano).

My difficulty is all on the other side -- I can't see Zampano as having achieved any meaningful level of redemption. Not that I insist on redemption in art, but I don't get the point of having Christ figures unless there's SOME sort of redemptive angle. Otherwise, it looks to me like a point with no point.

I can see Gelsomina or Il Matto being a Christ figure; I can see Zampano as mankind in need of redemption; I can even see Zamp boozing it up in the last scene as a sacramental event. I can find baptismal and other sacramental imagery too, if I feel like it. But I'm still left asking So What?

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Hmm. I liked La Strada quite a bit. I'd read a lot about it beforehand, but imo I would go with Gelsomina being the Christ figure (if we must name one). Also, I'd say that Zampano did get his comeuppance in a very frank way, after seeing him a broken man at the end (finally broken for good because he realizes his hopelessness and brutality -- which is why I think Scorsese likes it so much, or at least enough to revist this in Raging Bull). There's not so much redemption as possibility for redemption which seems to be present in the entire Trilogy Of Lonliness that Fellini made. Of course, it's only realized in Cabiria.

I guess it's too bad that the film didn't move you. Really, it's an emotion film, and no one explaining it will make you like it any more. Maybe revisit it in a year or so. But if you're still interested in reading more, I'd suggest Baxter's Fellini biography (or at least the chapter on this movie).

p.s. - oh, I was just re-reading that one line "I don't get the point in having a Christ figure" if there's no redemption. Well, it's a great tragedy when the possibility is there, but the human being doesn't take it. That's the great tragedy in life, so why can't it also be in cinema? But if all the critics are saying there was a great redemption in this movie... maybe it's me that missed something! smile.gif

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Darren H   

It's been quite a while since I saw La Strada, and considering how little I remember of it, I think it's safe to say that it didn't make much of an impact on me either. But I'm fairly indifferent to Fellini, in general. I do prefer his earlier films to the later, and I quite like Nights of Cabiria, if only for Giulietta Masina's performance.

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M. Leary   

I guess I have never thought of the film in redemptive terms. Fellini's use of churchly imagery is more cultural than it is theological, it serves as just another character in his dramas. All the floating cross at the beginning of La Dolce Vita does for example is draw our attention to the Christian way of seeing mass culture in the polar terms of redemption and ignorance. The cross literally flies over the increasingly urbanized city, seemingly unaware that its inhabitants are growing increasingly indifferent to its presence. And then when spend 2 hours with one of these new citizens of the secular city.

It doesn't seem that La Strada is a tale that needs to speak of redemption. At least it doesn't read well that way, all you will come up with at the end is a handful of lost souls. Pauline Kael famously read the film as a story about body (Zampano), mind (the Fool), and soul (Gelsomina). In some sense what happens in the subtext are things that are predecessory to redemption, thoughts that are the material of that massive shift in moral consciousness.

Take Gelsomina as soul. Here the soft-hearted, round-faced waif channeling what many see as a Chaplinesque innocent ignorance about life. She stands in the center of the film, all doeful and fragile. Her mastery of that sort of presence forces us as viewers simply to identify with her presence, we are brutalized when she is, we learn when she does. But as "soul," she provides the meaning and center around which these two guys are acting. She compels them to certain activities and emotions that they aren't even aware of.

Zampano as body is a simple one, but when set against the tightrope walker, the "Fool," the Nietzschean parallels are hard to overlook. Here is mere man vs. the Overman, the spirit of history and intellect, etc... Kael's understanding of the film works all too well in its context. Zampano's emotional demise is a recognition of his inadequacy in the face of things quite beyond himself. In a totally continental reading of the film, he finally encounters exactly what it is that he isn't. This is the threshold the film has brought us to, a sense of helplessness. This notion is one that Fellini seemed really captivated with, and explored in much less linear fashion for the rest of his life.

La Strada seems important because it deals with this holy trinity of modernist suspicion that Kael identifies. And Fellini lets the abstractedness of it really affect his storytelling. Most see La Strada as breaking through to a new way of talking about these cutting edge cultural issues ( cutting edge for the time he was working) in film. Even more shocking because he does toss in this churchly imagery at times in implicit criticisms of its failures.

I need to watch this again as a refresher SDG, that is all I got for now.

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SDG   

Mike,

Thanks for your thoughts.

I guess I have never thought of the film in redemptive terms.

Neither did I, until I encountered commentators speaking about it that way. But I agree with you that this seems to be a red herring.

Fellini's use of churchly imagery is more cultural than it is theological, it serves as just another character in his dramas... And then when spend 2 hours with one of these new citizens of the secular city.

(nod) I'm with you here.

It doesn't seem that La Strada is a tale that needs to speak of redemption. At least it doesn't read well that way, all you will come up with at the end is a handful of lost souls.

More or less, sure.

Pauline Kael famously read the film as a story about body (Zampano), mind (the Fool), and soul (Gelsomina).

Sure, and the same paradigm could also be applied, with varying degrees of plausibility, to virtually any triad of characters, from Lancelot, Arthur, and Guinevere to Kirk, McCoy, and Spock -- not to mention Fezzik, Vizzini, and Inigo Montoya; Mr. Toad, Mole, and Rat; Neo, Morpheus, and Trinity; Han, Luke, and Leia; Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman; Peter, James, and John; and The Cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman (which is actually a case where the paradigm is important).

And there are also other paradigms that could also be plausibly applied to most or all of these triads of characters, including priest, prophet, and king, and id, ego, and superego. So I guess the question is whether the paradigm illuminates the characters or story in a way that is either interesting in itself or that explains the story's power.

Take Gelsomina as soul. Here the soft-hearted, round-faced waif channeling what many see as a Chaplinesque innocent ignorance about life. She stands in the center of the film, all doeful and fragile. Her mastery of that sort of presence forces us as viewers simply to identify with her presence, we are brutalized when she is, we learn when she does.

What does she learn? What do we learn? One time she tries to leave Zampano, and he finds her, and from then on she stays with him in spite of everything else, including her deep trauma over the death of the Fool, until finally Zampano leaves her -- at which point the film suddenly decides that it it's really about Zampano, not Gelsomina, so after that last shot of her sleeping we never see her again.

We aren't with her when she wakes up and discovers she's been abandoned. We aren't with her when she dies. We have no idea what if anything she may ultimately have learned from these experiences. From the description of the housewife who knew her at the time of her death, she sounded pretty much exactly the same as when we knew her, not like she'd especially learned anything at all.

It seems to me that if anything we have to seek meaning in what Zampano might have learned, not what if anything Gelsomina may have learned.

But as "soul," she provides the meaning and center around which these two guys are acting. She compels them to certain activities and emotions that they aren't even aware of.

Yeah, maybe. Especially the Fool. I see that.

Zampano as body is a simple one, but when set against the tightrope walker, the "Fool," the Nietzschean parallels are hard to overlook. Here is mere man vs. the Overman, the spirit of history and intellect, etc...

If that's true, what a comeuppance for Nietzsche! What a poser the Ubermensch turns out to be. He looks very pretty up there on his wire, but bring him down to earth and he has neither the strength nor the wit to survive against "mere man."

Zampano's emotional demise is a recognition of his inadequacy in the face of things quite beyond himself.

What things? The Fool? Unlikely. His death never touched Zampano until after Gelsomina's. Gelsomina herself? How exactly did he come to recognize that she was quite beyond him? I can maybe buy that he realizes belatedly now that she's dead that in some sense he loved her after all, or at least feels guilty for her death. I can definitely buy that he realizes what a clod he is with his stupid chain trick, and maybe that he feels guilty over the way he has blundered through life like a bull in a china shop, trampling people and breaking things.

In a totally continental reading of the film, he finally encounters exactly what it is that he isn't. This is the threshold the film has brought us to, a sense of helplessness. This notion is one that Fellini seemed really captivated with, and explored in much less linear fashion for the rest of his life.

I guess for me the problem is that the mere notion of a character brought to the threshold of encountering exactly what he is and what he isn't, in and of itself, isn't enough to interest me in the absence of anything compelling about the process of discovery itself -- either in terms of what triggers it, or what happens psychologically for the character, or what happens as a result, or something of the sort.

Having a character get drunk, get thrown out of a bar, and break down crying on the beach is a potentially compelling resolution for a film, but simply showing me the character doing so as the culmination of his moment of self-awareness and sense of helplessness is to me only an idea for an end of a film. So maybe I'm one of those dopes you hear about who tell people that they can't act or draw or whatever who then go on to become Alec Guinness or Walt Disney or whatever, but if I had been Fellini's writing teacher and he had brought me this ending, I would have said, "Yes, and?"

La Strada seems important because it deals with this holy trinity of modernist suspicion that Kael identifies. And Fellini lets the abstractedness of it really affect his storytelling. Most see La Strada as breaking through to a new way of talking about these cutting edge cultural issues ( cutting edge for the time he was working) in film. Even more shocking because he does toss in this churchly imagery at times in implicit criticisms of its failures.

I need to watch this again as a refresher SDG, that is all I got for now.

Yeah, maybe like SNT says I need to watch it again in a year. Or ten.

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M. Leary   

And there are also other paradigms that could also be plausibly applied to most or all of these triads of characters, including priest, prophet, and king, and id, ego, and superego. So I guess the question is whether the paradigm illuminates the characters or story in a way that is either interesting in itself or that explains the story's power.

Good point, these little literary schemas that people apply have to be subject to this. I suppose if Fellini dropped hints the direction that Kael takes us, I would be willing to buy it as a totalizing description of the film. Kael's writing on it is illuminating though.

What does she learn? What do we learn? One time she tries to leave Zampano, and he finds her, and from then on she stays with him in spite of everything else, including her deep trauma over the death of the Fool, until finally Zampano leaves her -- at which point the film suddenly decides that it it's really about Zampano, not Gelsomina, so after that last shot of her sleeping we never see her again.

This question made me think of Rosenbaum's great review of Nights of Cabiria in which he talks a little about Fellini's female characters. Here is a relevant snippet:

"Fortunately, Nights of Cabiria improves on La strada in one respect: alternating with Masina's waiflike credulity is the brittle skepticism of her character, a prostitute who goes by the street name of Cabiria. Pier Paolo Pasolini was enlisted to supply her and her fellow prostitutes with Roman street slang, and as a result the film oscillates between authentic grittiness and dreamy flights of fancyrather as Cabiria herself does."

I may have worded that vaguely when I say that we "learn" from her and with her. It is more that Fellini uses her as a film device to drag us into the heart of what is going on in the story. In the dreamlikeness especially of Nights of Cabiria she almost becomes a stand in for us, a bit of a blank canvas. She isn't just innocent or ignorant at times she is borderline absent. This goes on as well in Juliet of the Spirits, with much different results.

It seems to me that if anything we have to seek meaning in what Zampano might have learned, not what if anything Gelsomina may have learned.

Or maybe it is a both/and. It is pretty rich storytelling.

If that's true, what a comeuppance for Nietzsche! What a poser the Ubermensch turns out to be. He looks very pretty up there on his wire, but bring him down to earth and he has neither the strength nor the wit to survive against "mere man.

In that horrible fable by Neitzsche it is the Buffoon that comes and topples the tightrope walker from the wire. This is the Buffoon that proclaims the death of God. (I dont have it handy to double-check or give a direct quote). So yeah, the absurdity sticks either way, both mind and body are trumped by the spirit of the age (which is the Buffoon). Whether or not this is Fellini's intent, it is an interesting reading. But for my money, I would love to find some of Fellini's comments on the film before I said with any authority that this is the way to watch the film.

but if I had been Fellini's writing teacher and he had brought me this ending, I would have said, "Yes, and?"

Hm. I don't know how to respond to this with anything shorter than a five chapter book. This is probably the major criticism people have of foriegn film from this period. These filmmakers were flat out experimenting with different forms of resolution, and in some cases with the effectiveness of offering no resolution at all. For starters, in response to the way Fellini ended this film, it seems that we could point to the end as a means of opening up the film to wider readings. This is precisely what happens at the end of 400 Blows, a very irresolute ending from one point. But one that enables the film to speak with a louder voice in the long run. Do you think this is a weak answer?

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if I had been Fellini's writing teacher and he had brought me this ending, I would have said, "Yes, and?"

Thing is, Fellini was not writing books, he was making films. Which is to say he was working with images, that's the meat and potatoes of his craft. It shouldn't have to make literary sense, or be quote-unquote satisfying. It's a series of images that (hopefully) produce emotion. The big brute of a man hulking over a tiny clown-woman -- there's one, the ignorant proud face of that man as he performs his one ridiculous chain-breaking trick -- there's one, and finally, this man, now come to a certain realization, brought to his knees in the surf, crying out like the animal that he knows he is -- there's our resolving image for the film. It's not really fair to say "yes, and", because he just showed you. Whether it works for you personally or not, that's all up in the air. But it's not as if he was lazy and shirked an ending.

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SDG   

(M)Leary wrote:

Do you think this is a weak answer?

No, it's a fine answer as regards the irresolute ending thing, although that's not quite what I was questioning. I wasn't asking so much "Yes, and... what happens next?" as "Yes, and... this is interesting why?"

I can appreciate movies with indeterminate endings (a few that come to mind: I'm Going Home; Crouching Tiger; The Jeweller's Shop; Big Night).

With La Strada, though, after Gelsomina and Il Matto died I wasn't sufficiently emotionally invested in Zampono to find the mere fact of his breakdown moving in itself.

SoNowThen wrote:

Thing is, Fellini was not writing books, he was making films.

Who said anything about books? Are you saying a screenplay is immune to criticism because it's not a film?

Whether it works for you personally or not, that's all up in the air. But it's not as if he was lazy and shirked an ending.

I don't think Fellini was lazy, and I don't think the film needed another scene after the climax. I personally feel at the moment that it may have benefitted from some different scenes leading up to the climax.

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SoNowThen wrote:
Thing is, Fellini was not writing books, he was making films.

Who said anything about books? Are you saying a screenplay is immune to criticism because it's not a film?

Based on what I've read/heard about Fellini's working methods on set, I'd say so, yes, in this case.

You said if you were his writing teacher, ___. Maybe it's just a question of words... perhaps if you said "if I were his directing teacher I would say 'yes, and'", then it would've sounded more valid to me. Y'know what I mean?

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SDG   

Maybe it's just a question of words...

I think so. Let's not get tripped up by a colorful illustration. The point is, even knowing that Fellini is Fellini and that La Strada is universally regarded as a classic, I STILL got to the end wanting to ask "Yes, and... this is interesting why?"

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I guess in terms of importance because it was a definitive breaking away from neo-realism, and the first movie to concretely develop the style "Fellini-esque". If I remember correctly, the communist party began by championing neorealism (and by extension, Fellini), but after this film they started detracting him, and then of course the huge break with any other grouping was made with La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2. Also, I think despite whatever else you think about the film, you gotta admit that Masina was wonderful.

So I guess it's classic and interesting for those two main reasons. On a cinematic- historical scale, that is. But hey, even a Fellini nut like me will say it's not his best. Maybe you'll be more responsive to later Fellini. Have you seen Amarcord?

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M. Leary   
No, it's a fine answer as regards the irresolute ending thing, although that's not quite what I was questioning. I wasn't asking so much "Yes, and... what happens next?" as "Yes, and... this is interesting why?"

With La Strada, though, after Gelsomina and Il Matto died I wasn't sufficiently emotionally invested in Zampono to find the mere fact of his breakdown moving in itself.

Gotcha. Which is a significant point. In thinking back through the film, it seems that any "resolution" in the film, or any narrative payoff, occurs in Zampano's last few scenes and the film really turns out to be "about" him and his experience. So if you already aren't into the plight of Zampano then the jig is up and everything will just fall flat.

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Mark   

I can't even begin to remember the last time I sat down to watch a universally hailed classic for the first time and got to the end not only feeling like I had gotten not a thing out of it, but half incredulous that anyone else could claim to have done so either.

I saw La Strada in college and had exactly the same reaction. When I watched a second time it seemed the lead actress's performance was a big part of the problem. The role required someone who could play the character's comic/idiotic tendencies with some depth and tragic undertones, but the actress seemed to have a hard time integrating those qualities. So I never bought her character for a minute. She reminded me of Lucille Ball in a terrible TV-movie where Lucy played a homeless woman (not very convincingly).

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M. Leary   

Hm. Awkward silence. I guess I have just always thought of her as spectacular.

Again, to quote Rosenbaum's review of Nights of Cabiria in which he quotes Bazin:

" 'Masina turns toward the camera and her glance crosses ours....The finishing touch to this stroke of directorial genius is this, that Cabiria's glance falls several times on the camera without ever quite coming to rest there.... Here she is now inviting us, too, with her glance to follow her on the road to which she is about to return. The invitation is chaste, discreet, and indefinite enough that we can pretend to think that she means to be looking at somebody else. At the same time, though, it is definite and direct enough, too, to remove us quite finally from our role of spectator.' The gift of Cabiria's essence, freed from the determinism of stories, is to return us to our own."

Bazin at least seemed quite taken by her.

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SDG   

FWIW, my problems with the film have nothing to do with Masina's performance.

(Regarding Lucille Ball, though, outside of comedy I do find her range quite limited. Her performance in Yours, Mine, and Ours is one of the reasons I don't like that film. If ever an actress projected less maternal warmth than Ball, I can't think who.)

As for Zampono's plight... Mike, I'm not saying I couldn't be persuaded to be into it, or that the ending inherently couldn't work no matter how Fellini got us there. It's just the mere fact of his breakdown, in the absence of anything for me to latch onto in terms of his transition from heartless brute to broken man, that I find unprovocative.

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Mark   

I should add that I haven't seen Cabiria , or any of Masina's other performances, so I'm not commenting on her overall ability. But the lasting impression I got from La Strada in college was of a gifted comic actress trying to reach a character just out of range. It's been a long time since I've seen it, and now am motivated to go back and watch it again, on a double bill with Cabiria .

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Finally saw this last night (after seeing Variety Lights and The White Sheik on Thursday and I Vitelloni earlier last night). FWIW, I think I might prefer the first two films to the latter two films, but mainly because they were funnier. (It was also nice to see the Cabiria scene in The White Sheik in context; before now, I had only seen it as a stand-alone clip on the Nights of Cabiria DVD.)

SDG wrote:

: What does she learn? What do we learn? One time she tries to leave Zampano, and

: he finds her, and from then on she stays with him in spite of everything else,

: including her deep trauma over the death of the Fool, until finally Zampano leaves

: her -- at which point the film suddenly decides that it it's really about Zampano, not

: Gelsomina, so after that last shot of her sleeping we never see her again.

Suddenly decides, yeah. That was a very abrupt shift. We fade out, we fade in, and suddenly someone's talking about a woman who died a few years ago.

I like Masina a lot, but -- perhaps because I had just seen her play more soulful and intelligent characters in Variety Lights and The White Sheik -- I didn't quite "buy" her as the sweet idiot (to use SDG's term) in La Strada. Or maybe I did, but I was just too aware of the real intelligence lurking beneath the fake idiocy.

MLeary, those are some really interesting comments about Nietzsche, etc.

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Portrayals of sacrificial love are more interesting when the lover ends up sacrificing something. In the case of La Strada, her sanity. This is what makes the film interesting to me. The breakdown of Zampano at the end is just a bonus... it implies that maybe Gelsomina was right all along. Maybe there was something deep down inside Zampano that was worth loving. She had varying amounts of hope in this (ie. the series of events at the nunnery), but she decided to love him anyway. And that's what love is anyway, more of a decision than an emotion.

It's a message that's quite relevant to Christian principals I think.

Edit: Or actually, Zampano's breakdown is probably to show that her love was requited all along in some form or to show that sacrificial love affects the recipients even though their behavior is unchanged. Either way, it's a glimpse of hope at the end of a very bleak film. This is the only Fellini film I've seen... maybe it's a universal classic more for its place in his body of work than for its individual merits, but I found it very worthwhile.

Edited by theoddone33

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Crow   

I just saw this, and I agree with Yukiyuki that I was reminded of Balthasar in the suffering that Gelsomina undergoes throughout the film. Zampano was a really pathetic character. His stunt, busting an iron chain by flexing his chest muscles, reminded me of one of those goofy stunts The Power Team used to do. I think Gelsomina served as a kind of conscience for Zampano. He pushed her away in the end to try to hide the fact that his cruelty toward her and his

abandonment of The Fool

showed the cruelty in his own heart. I have a hard time seeing a redemptive element in Zampano's breakdown, only his reaping what he had sown.

However, the film had some interesting visual moments. It's not a film I would watch more than once, but it does effectively show the effects of sin.

Edited by Crow

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