Nestled within Federico Fellini’s impressive filmography is “Nights of Cabiria”, a scintillating Italian drama that is rarely mentioned among the director’s greats (“8 1/2”, “La Dolce Vita”, etc.). It’s a shame considering the film earned Fellini one of his four Academy Awards and is regarded by some as his finest work. I find it hard to argue against the movie’s brilliance and greatness.

“Nights of Cabiria” sits firmly between Fellini’s shift from classical Italian Neorealism to the extravagant sensory experiences we would get later on. The neorealist’s spotlight on working class society and economic hardships is represented from title screen to the film’s final frame. But we also see Fellini experimenting with a more crafty and stylish form of storytelling. It’s the early stages of what would literally burst into form three years later in “La Dolce Vita”.

Getting the film made wasn’t easy. Fellini peddled his story to a number of producers each of whom turned him down. It wasn’t until Dino De Laurentiis approached him with a five-film contract offer that Fellini was able to make his movie. With funding set Fellini then cast his wife Giulietta Masina in the lead role. This was a critical step since the lead character is in practically every scene and since the story hinges on her emotion and personality. Masina would go on to win the Best Actress Award at the Cannes Film Festival.

Masina plays a ‘lady of the night’ but not in the usual vein. Her name is Cabiria and there is more to her than her occupation. She is different – unique is several regards. She is significantly smaller than all the other ladies who work with her. She isn’t the most alluring or attractive. She wears her emotions on her sleeve. Simply put, Cabiria isn’t a woman who would naturally grab your attention, but that doesn’t sway her. Regardless of her obstacles, Cabiria pushes forward clinging to any semblance of happiness and holding onto an internal hope that somewhere true love awaits.

Despite her deeper innocence and naiveté, Fellini doesn’t portray Cabiria as a weak woman. She’s a tough cookie. She truly is a victim of circumstance who has survived due to her determination and wiles. For the audience her tiny shack of a home on the city outskirts is a sign of her tough life, but to Cabiria it’s a symbol of accomplishment. She proudly tells several people that she is a homeowner. And she isn’t afraid to be whisked away by a good dance tune – an effect of her sprightly optimism.

But deep down there is a disappointment that she is deeply in tune with. The very first scene reveals it with uncomfortable clarity. She and her boyfriend are walking by the river in what resembles a romantic stroll. That is until he pushes her in and runs off with her purse full of money. We never see him again. The film is a series of encounters most with cruel outcomes. And Cabiria always seems to expect the disappointment and she accepts the hand she is dealt and moves on. Instead of concentrating on plot Fellini focuses on several tragic themes that grow more vivid with each of Cabiria’s encounters.

When developing the Cabiria character, both Fellini and Masina were said to be highly influenced by Chaplin’s Little Tramp. You can see it in her expressions, her mannerisms, and of course in many of her circumstances. There are moments when the resemblances feel a tad foreign to the tone of a specific scene, but for the most part it fits surprisingly well and it has such a unique contrast with several of the characters Cabiria meets.

“Nights of Cabiria” is filled with fine supporting performances, interesting visual touches, and poignant emotional moments. Fellini’s true-to-life themes simmer throughout the picture and many of them would resurface in “La Dolce Vita”. And at the core is Masina and her magnetic performance. She makes it impossible for us to lack sympathy for Cabiria despite some of the character’s poor decisions. We want her to rise above her circumstances and find the love she longs for. But as things progress Fellini leaves us cynical and skeptical. Like her we want to cling to the hope for happiness but ultimately fear the cloud of disappointment will be to much for her to overcome.

VERDICT – 4.5 STARS

Director Federico Fellini has long been one of Italy’s most important gifts to the world of cinema. A daring and proficient filmmaker, Fellini had a career that featured various stages of evolution. Most notably was his turn from popular Italian neorealism to an almost surreal fantasy mode of cinematic storytelling. There are some who have viewed Fellini’s shift in style and approach as a turn in the wrong direction and a small handful of his later films may support that view. But I can’t go along with that, especially when said style shift gave us treasures like “La Dolce Vita” and “8 1/2”.

“8 1/2” is a semi-autobiographical film that gets its name from the eight and a half feature films and shorts Fellini had made up to that point. For the first time in his life Fellini was experiencing a creative stall. His struggles with director’s block inspired him to start over and make a film about a prominent Italian director laboring through the same creative pains. Trusted actor and friend Marcello Mastroianni would play the lead role of Guido Anselmi who is an undeniable reflection of Fellini with a few added dramatic twists.

At first glance it may be easy to dismiss “8 1/2” as a malaise of off-beat dream sequences and surreal imagery. But as with every great cinematic work, there are layers of creativity and ambition that one can’t appreciate with a single viewing. There is no doubting that at that point in his career Fellini was a visual storyteller and his images play a pivotal part in “8 1/2”. But they aren’t images just for the sake of images. Fellini has specific things in mind and it takes some digging to find their meaning.

Take his dream sequences as an example. Each of the film’s dream sequences serve as an escape for Guido – a refuge from the anxiety and stresses of his real life. But each dream also feeds us information about who Guido really is. Some are simply memories taken from his past. Some are past memories heightened with hyperbolic flare. Others are full blown dreams emphasizing Guido’s perspectives, his fantasies, or his different states of mind. In other words the dream sequences in “8 1/2” aren’t simply indulgences or vain attempts at masking Fellini’s uncertainties.

While the movie isn’t thick with plot, it paints a mesmerizing portrait. Its story resides within the Guido character and the absorbing performance from Mastroianni. We get an idea of who Guido is through the film’s unforgettable opening scene. While caught up in a massive traffic jam smoke filters from the vents of his car filling the cab. Desperate for help he pounds the windows, but everyone around him simply stares. He manages to escape and makes an angelic-like ascension. But while in the air and getting a small taste of freedom, he feels the tug from a rope that is tied around his leg. On the other end of the rope is a member of his production team who represents the maddening life he can’t seem to escape.

Guido is surrounded by chaos. He is a respected director working on a big budget science fiction picture, but his deadline to begin filming has come and gone. A huge hunk of “8 1/2” takes place at a fancy Italian resort where his cast and crew have gathered to begin working on the film. The problem is Guido has hit a creative wall and his apathy is frustrating everyone involved. He is bombarded with pressure from his short-tempered producer, his misanthropic lead writer, a high-maintenance French actress, and several others from his production crew. Guido has no defined plan for his movie and we slowly witness the emotional toll it is taking on him.

There is another contributor to Guido’s melancholy. It’s his messy, complicated web of relationships which includes his wife and mistress. The alluring Anouk Aimée plays Guido’s wife Luisa, a smart and elegant woman frustrated by her husband’s indifference. Carla (Sandra Milo), his mistress, is a chintzy, nagging starlet who irritates as much as excites. It appears as if Guido juggles these relationships without an ounce of thought. At one point in the film he has both women at the resort at the same time. But is this simply a mismanagement of his mangled love life or is it an intentional move by a man desperate for some form of resolution? As with most of “8 1/2” there is more to it than what we see on the surface.

Guido’s perception of women, love, and romance is skewed. We see this in the film’s famous harem dream sequence which features all of the women in Guido’s life embodying various fulfillments of his imagination. While it does reveal his warped perspectives, the dream also visualizes the internal conflict that’s fueling Guido’s deteriorating state of mind. In essence Guido can’t escape the turmoil in his dreams or his reality. To combat this mental and emotional back-and-forth Guido loses himself in reoccurring visions of the “perfect” woman. The stunning Claudia Cardinale represents his ultimate fantasy. She is his symbol of purity, spontaneity, and innocence. She is always dressed in white and she appears with a ghostly elegance and grace. She is his dream girl.

But as with everything else in Guido’s life, reality offers a much different perspective than his fantasies. That gets to the greater point of “8 1/2” – dealing with reality instead of fleeing from it and finding genuine inner happiness. At the same time and more directly Fellini examines the pains and pressures that accompany creativity – the inspirations and expectations filmmakers struggle with during the creative process. Roger Ebert called this the best film ever made about filmmaking. It’s hard to argue with him.

“8 1/2” is a movie that marches to its own beat and it doesn’t follow any established formula or convention. It is free of any and all caution and hesitation. It is a film that will undoubtedly still have detractors who won’t completely respond to its unbridled vision. But it could be said that the true beauty of “8 1/2” is found in its confusion. It’s found in the physical and psychological mayhem. It’s found in Fellini’s unique film language and audacious visual approach. And the most amazing thing about “8 1/2”? It found its genesis and inspiration in the mind of a struggling, burdened auteur. It just goes to show that true cinematic art, much like the life we choose to live, originates within us and not in some polished and meticulously detailed script.