CLXXXIV: La Dolce Vita

On my trip to the library earlier this week, I ended up finding DVDs instead of books (Jane Eyre and The Count of Monte Cristo were out). I invited Numz to come over to watch Federico Fellini's La Dolce Vita, having heard of its influence on the film industry.

I. Do. Not. Get. Fellini.

And I'm not talking about the Italian, because at least I understand some of that.

It's the symbolism that escapes me, and the chaos of many of the scenes. It started off interestingly enough. The story surrounds Marcello, a journalist who somehow has ties (both professional and sexual) to various starlets, despite (or because of) his having a needy girlfriend at home. The women are gorgeous, a kind of classic beauty that escapes Hollywood today. But the women are also annoying. Sylvia, an American actress, seems to have her head in the clouds all the time. Emma, Marcello's girlfriend, just waits at home all day for him to come home and is far too dependent.

If you want to know what Italian men are like and how they seduce women (and oh, how they do that so very well), I'd recommend watching the first half of the movie. Numz and I ended up napping midway through, and by the time I woke up I was thoroughly confused and not entertained since there was almost a whole new set of characters and no focus on the dialogue. The ending was strange and abrupt as well. WTML?!

I wish I could say that I was cultured enough to enjoy Fellini, but that would be a huge lie. Bring me one of my DVDs any day. I have just added The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Slumdog Millionaire, and Casino Royale to my collection -- the latter of which is in my top ten.