Blog Directory CineVerse

Shoeless and somewhat clueless

Wednesday, March 26, 2025

One of Hollywood's most unconventional romantic dramas from its golden age, The Barefoot Contessa (1954), written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz and starring Ava Gardner, Humphrey Bogart, and Edmond O'Brien, tells the story of Maria Vargas (Gardner), a Spanish nightclub dancer who achieves Hollywood stardom but remains constrained by the expectations of the men surrounding her. The film's narrative unfolds through the perspectives of three men: Harry Dawes (Bogart), the seasoned director who discovers Maria; Oscar Muldoon (O'Brien), the fast-talking, cynical press agent instrumental in shaping her public image; and the aristocratic Count Vincenzo Torlato-Favrini (Rossano Brazzi), whose love offers hope yet ultimately leads to tragedy. The story explores Maria's relationships with powerful men, including the controlling businessman Alberto Bravano (Marius Goring), and her struggle to attain personal freedom despite her fame and beauty.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of The Barefoot Contessa, recorded last week, click here.


The film's unpredictable and offbeat nature is, at times, refreshing, and at others, frustrating. For instance, The Barefoot Contessa offers a privileged yet pessimistic glimpse into Hollywood insiders and the star-making system, yet the narrative curiously unfolds primarily in Italy, Spain, and France, not Hollywood. Secondly, despite top billing for Bogart and Gardner, their characters maintain a strictly platonic relationship. Thirdly, the filmmakers introduce Maria unconventionally; instead of seeing her dance, we observe a room of men captivated by her offscreen performance.

The film's central theme is the dark side of celebrity and fame. It reveals the inner workings of the Hollywood system, where powerful men discover and cultivate new talent, transforming beautiful women into stars, yet they clash for control, stifling these women's choices and freedom. New Yorker critic Richard Brody observed: “(Mankiewicz) shows the sordidness of the money-driven, ego-fuelled, ruthless machinations that are both central to the business of Hollywood and constantly threaten to derail it. And he contemplates with a lofty, rueful view (that owed nothing to the Hays Code) the cruelly unjust price that women in Hollywood paid for their sexual and personal freedom, the tragic conflicts that they endured for their resolute independence.”

The male gaze is prominent throughout the film. Maria is consistently objectified by the men around her, and her story is told primarily through their perspectives. We consistently see and hear her through the eyes and words of the men who admired her. Consider the courtroom scene where Maria testifies on her father’s behalf; we hear a summary of the proceedings through Oscar's narration.

The movie serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of putting someone on a pedestal. The Count commissions a statue of Maria, symbolizing his worship of her beauty and elegance. However, no human is a perfect physical specimen or deity deserving of unquestioned adulation. Maria, though uniquely lovely, is an imperfect human being who cannot be "preserved in stone" or controlled by any man. Similarly, the film reinforces the impossibility of truly knowing and understanding another person. The fact that The Barefoot Contessa is told via flashbacks from the perspectives of three different men, each with their own interpretation of Maria’s personality and character, underscores her complexity and unpredictability.

Like many memorable romantic dramas, this work explores the dichotomy between romantic illusion and sobering reality. Maria yearns for true love, happiness, and sexual freedom, but her relationships are doomed by circumstances and societal expectations. She maintains her free spirit, resisting conformity, but ultimately faces tragic consequences for her choices.

Yet, despite these thematic achievements, the picture may leave some audiences unsatisfied, with several questions unresolved (spoilers ahead):
  • Why does Maria so quickly and impulsively leave with these men, particularly Count Vincenzo, Alberto, and Harry/Kirk? What motivates her hasty actions?
  • Why does Bogart’s character disappear for most of the second half, including a full 30 minutes after the midpoint?
  • Why did Vincenzo not inform Maria of his impotence before asking her to marry him and continue his family line?
  • Why did Maria not ask Vincenzo if he would accept her conceiving a child with another man to continue his lineage? Is this not a flawed plan?
  • Why is Harry not more emotionally devastated and angry at Vincenzo when Maria is killed?
  • Why is Vincenzo permitted to attend the funeral of his deceased wife, whom he murdered?
  • What’s up with the film's bizarre original poster, depicting Maria embraced by an amorphous, monstrous figure (shown above)?
Two fascinating trivia tidbits: Maria’s character and story are loosely based on Rita Hayworth, a former Latin dancer who became a star and was widely desired (although reports also suggest the role drew inspiration from actress Anne Chevalier and Ava Gardner herself). O'Brien was the film's sole Academy Award winner, receiving Best Supporting Actor. Notably, he is also the only actor named Oscar to win an Oscar.

Similar works

  • Citizen Kane (1941), especially with the multiple flashbacks recollecting on the dead titular character
  • The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)
  • The Valley of the Dolls (1967)
  • A Star Is Born (1954) – A tale of fame, love, and tragedy in the film industry, starring Judy Garland and James Mason.
  • La Dolce Vita (1960) – Federico Fellini’s masterpiece about celebrity culture and the emptiness of fame in Rome.
  • Gilda (1946) – A glamorous and tragic film noir starring Rita Hayworth, featuring themes of passion, betrayal, and power.
  • My Last Duchess, a poem by Robert Browning

Other films by Joseph L Mankiewicz

  • A Letter to Three Wives (1949)
  • House of Strangers (1949)
  • No Way Out (1950)
  • All About Eve (1950)
  • People Will Talk (1951)
  • Julius Caesar (1953)
  • Guys and Dolls (1955)
  • Cleopatra (1963)
  • Sleuth (1972)

Green Border, red flags

Thursday, March 20, 2025

From Schindler’s List to 12 Years a Slave, some films based on atrocious events in human history prove difficult to watch, challenging viewers with realistic violence and disturbing subject matter. A more recent example is Green Border (2023), a powerful drama that captures the struggles of refugees trapped between Belarus and Poland in 2021. The story follows a Syrian family—Bashir (Jalal Altawil), his wife Amina (Dalia Naous), their children, and Bashir’s father (Mohamad Al Rashi)—as they attempt to reach Sweden, crossing paths with Leila (Behi Djanati Atai), an Afghan teacher also seeking asylum. Meanwhile, Julia (Maja Ostaszewska), a Polish psychologist turned activist, and conflicted border guard Jan (Tomasz Włosok) provide additional perspectives on the humanitarian crisis. Directed by Agnieszka Holland and filmed in stark black-and-white – which adds a sheen of newsy authenticity, shadowy weight, and thematic gravitas to the story and the characters – this work is notable for its gripping performances and unflinching critique of political exploitation, sparking significant discussion on human rights and remains a vital work in contemporary cinema.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Green Border, conducted last week, click here.


Green Border is segmented into four different chapters. Part one focuses primarily on a Muslim family, represented by three different generations, seeking escape from Syria but being turned into political hot potatoes by countries they thought would be sympathetic to their plight. The second chapter focuses primarily on Jan, an expectant father who participates in the despicable treatment of the displaced foreigners but who resultantly suffers a crisis of conscience. Part three follows a colorful band of activists, including new convert Julia, who strategize to bring aid to these political victims. The brief epilogue covers how millions of Ukrainian refugees are granted asylum or temporary protection in Poland and across Europe. Chapters 2 and 3 are particularly important, as are the characters of Julia and Janek, who stand as surrogates for the audience: witnesses to the ruthless way these migrants are treated who, like viewers, may be motivated to get involved.

Set in 2021 to 2022, and released only a year later, Green Border has a political zeitgeist feeling of urgency and immediacy, bringing attention to a serious humanitarian crisis that has actually been going on for the past 10 years. The European migrant crisis began in 2015 with large numbers of refugees from conflict zones like Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq, and later Africa, arriving in Eastern European countries such as Hungary, Poland, and Bulgaria. More recently, the crisis intensified with Russia's 2022 invasion of Ukraine, displacing over 7 million Ukrainians, while the Belarus-EU migrant crisis in 2021 further exacerbated the region's challenges. American viewers may be less aware of this ongoing problem on the other side of the globe, but Green Border’s setting and troubling narrative also coincide with the ongoing debate in the U.S. over illegal immigrants and how they are being rounded up and deported today.

The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw described it as “a sombre, yet gripping movie in what feels like two separate genres: a movie about the eastern front in the second world war, or the first world war, or perhaps an entirely different, futurist film: a post-apocalyptic drama in which the forest is the site of some frantic survival-struggle experienced by people whose humanity has been almost entirely stripped from them, as if by some nuclear blast or germ warfare strike…Green Border is a tough watch: a punch to the solar plexus. But a vital bearing of cinematic witness to what is happening in Europe right now.”

At its core, the film thematically explores the heartless and inhumane playing of political pawns. Bashir and his multi-generational family, as well as all the other refugees we observe alongside them, are powerless pieces on a chessboard being played by Belarus and Poland. The Belarus-Poland border crisis is part of a broader geopolitical struggle involving Belarus, Russia, the EU, and NATO, with tensions escalating due to Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko’s close ties with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Since 2021, Belarus has been accused of deliberately funneling migrants—mainly from the Middle East and Africa—toward the EU as retaliation for sanctions, a tactic seen as hybrid warfare aimed at destabilizing Europe while diverting attention from Russia’s war in Ukraine. With Putin backing Lukashenko, Poland has responded by militarizing its border and pushing back the refugees dropped onto its borders by Belarus.

Additionally, the movie examines the courage needed to commit to an ethical cause for the right reasons. There’s an exchange in Green Border where one of the activists criticizes passive liberals for only wanting to help refugees to soothe their sense of guilt. By depicting Julia’s transition from concerned observer to risk-taking activist and depicting Janek’s inner moral conflict at being at first a callous border soldier contributing to the cruelty but later a silent resister to the established order by not apprehending Bashir’s family-in-hiding, Holland is attempting to motivate viewers to think beyond good intentions and well wishes and become more proactive in this humanitarian crisis.

Viewers see evidence of the immense value inherent in even small gestures of care and kindness. Julia and her fellow activists bring food, clothing, medicine, comfort, and advice to the hapless migrants. While they are not able to legally shield them from the Polish border police, the supplies and treatment they provide give these sufferers hope, even temporarily, in a mostly hopeless situation.

That infusion of positivity is important. “Holland‘s bruisingly powerful new refugee drama ultimately comes from a place of optimism,” per Variety critic Jessica Kiang. “It is optimistic to expect and to nurture a reaction of potentially motivating outrage, when you portray the brutality of which human individuals, at the behest of human institutions, are capable. It is optimistic to believe that, faced with extraordinary cruelty, a viewer’s ordinary decency will be compelled to rise and rebel. Green Border…wraps its social critique in the razor wire of punchy, intelligent cinematic craft in order to elicit precisely such emotions. If we can feel the horror, perhaps there is hope.”

Green Border also reminds us that refugees are human beings, each with unique needs and personalities. Migrants and expatriates seeking asylum and sanctuary deserve dignity and have human rights that shouldn’t be violated, even if they are technically breaking the law. With so many countries in chaos and sociopolitical conflict growing, the immigration crisis is increasingly complex and warrants further rational dialogue, even if it ultimately means that that person isn’t legally allowed entry into their chosen country of migration.


Similar works

  • El Norte (1983) – A poignant drama about two Guatemalan siblings fleeing civil war and attempting to build a new life in the United States.
  • In This World (2002) – A documentary-style drama following two Afghan refugees on a perilous journey from Pakistan to the UK.
  • Babel (2006) – A multi-narrative drama exploring global interconnectedness, including the plight of an undocumented immigrant.
  • Welcome (2009) – A French film about an Iraqi-Kurdish teenager trying to cross the English Channel to reunite with his girlfriend.
  • Mediterranea (2015) – A gripping film following two African migrants as they navigate the dangers of illegal immigration to Italy.
  • The Other Side of Hope (2017) – A Finnish film by Aki Kaurismäki, blending humor and drama in the story of a Syrian refugee seeking asylum in Helsinki.
  • Human Flow (2017) – Ai Weiwei’s documentary about the global refugee crisis, showcasing the struggles and resilience of displaced people worldwide.
  • Quo Vadis, Aida? (2020) – A harrowing drama about the 1995 Srebrenica massacre, told through the perspective of a UN translator trying to save her family.
  • Io Capitano (2023) – A powerful Italian film about two Senegalese teenagers who embark on a perilous journey to Europe, facing exploitation and danger along the way.

Other films by Agnieszka Holland

  • Europa Europa
  • Total Eclipse
  • The Secret Garden
  • In Darkness
  • Charlatan
  • Spoor
  • Mr. Jones
  • Angry Harvest

Answer me these questions three

Sunday, March 16, 2025


What’s the greatest British comedy ever made? What film persists as perhaps the most re-quoted by fans over the past 50 years? And what work is primarily responsible for most of the world coming to know and love Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam, Michael Palin and Terry Jones? 

The answer to all these questions is, of course, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, released 50 years ago this month. Co-directed by two of the Pythons – Gilliam and Jones –the movie takes a satirical buzzsaw to the legend of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, chronicling their bizarre and often ridiculous journey to locate the titular golden chalice. Along the way, Arthur (played by Chapman) and his faithful band encounter a series of absurd obstacles, including the stubborn Black Knight (Cleese), the peculiar Knights Who Say "Ni" (led by Palin), the ferocious Rabbit of Caerbannog, and a bridgekeeper with a penchant for, let’s say, difficult questions. The cast members take on multiple roles, with Cleese portraying Sir Lancelot, Palin as Sir Galahad, Jones as Sir Bedevere, and Idle as Sir Robin.

Click here to listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, conducted earlier this month. To hear the March Cineversary podcast episode celebrating Holy Grail’s 50th anniversary, click here.


Holy Grail, due in large part to its limited resources and shoestring budget (amazingly, it was financed in part by members of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, and Genesis because the Pythons lacked financial backers), wasn’t afraid to defy audience expectations for a heroic adventure, historical costume drama, or feature-length satire, often deviating wildly from film storytelling formula and traditional comedy approaches.

The movie, which functions more as a series of gags and sketch pieces loosely strung together by a thin plot, didn’t balk at irritating its audience with the unexpected, including silly credits and Swedish subtitles, crudely animated interstitials, a phony intermission title card, an abrupt unresolved ending, and the absence of credits at the end. It had the guts to make fun of its ultra-low budget and employ edgy animation to depict otherwise unfilmable scenes, yet it still achieves a visually realistic look with its period-accurate costumes and props, dirty aesthetics, and authentic castle settings (thanks to its being shot on location in Scotland).

The comedy is absurd, silly, and random, mixing metaphors while managing to offend multiple groups equally, including the religious, the royal, the ignorant, the politically minded, the class/caste system, homosexuals, and women. It also defies the rules of classic narrative structure by having characters talk to the camera and its medieval universe unexpectedly invaded by 20th-century characters – namely a contemporary detective and two bobbies, whose reappearance becomes a crucial repeated joke.

Interestingly, the Grail itself functions as a Hitchcockian McGuffin – a device that motivates the characters but is never seen or obtained, further upending our expectations.

Per Alternate Ending essayist Timothy Brayton, Holy Grail “provided an excellent vehicle for the dominant form of comedy in the Pythons' work, the aggressively weird conceptual gags in which something inordinately surreal plunges right on through a normal environment, generally leaving the characters inside that environment quite baffled and upset. Generally speaking, the group's favorite target for their absurd sensibilities were the most staid and English of situations…its travesty, satire, and parody are well-augmented by the precision of its surrealism, which only seems random. In fact, the film carefully builds up a series of comic motifs and call-backs, giving the whole thing a rather elegant structure that gives all of the jokes a feeling of inevitability even as they seem spectacularly random.”

DVD Savant critic Glenn Erickson wrote that the film “withstands the weight of its own jolly pointlessness by virtue of a series of self-reflexive jokes aimed at deflating the pomposity of the epic movie format.” Reflect, for instance, on how the rousing score serves as an ironic musical bed for the silly situations, drab settings, and cowardly or unheroic actions of the protagonists.

Holy Grail also earns points as a comedy that feels contemporary, despite its 50-year vintage, because it’s so self-aware and meta, often joking about its low production values with lines like “It’s only a model” in reference to the image of a grand castle off in the distance.

It’s further deserving of celebration because it remains among the most quoted films of all time. Fans across the globe continue to mimic some of its most famous lines, including “We are the Knights who say ‘Ni!’” “Bring out your dead!” “I’m not dead yet!” “Help! Help! I’m being repressed!” “It’s just a flesh wound.” “On second thought, let’s not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.” “None shall pass!” and “Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries!”

This work is also worthy of kudos because it continues to rank highly as one of the greatest comedies ever created. In 2000, readers of Total Film magazine ranked Monty Python and the Holy Grail as the fifth-greatest comedy film of all time. In 2006, a Channel 4 poll of British viewers placed Holy Grail sixth on the list of the 50 Greatest Comedy Films. In 2011, an ABC and People magazine poll revealed that Holy Grail was the second-best comedy of all time, behind Airplane!. And in 2016, Empire magazine ranked Holy Grail 18th on its list of the 100 Best British Films.

What is it about the Python sense of humor and comic sensibilities that made Holy Grail so successful? Monty Python’s brand of comedy was characterized by its dry, British-style wit, often delivered in a deadpan manner that enhances the funniness through understatement and irony. Their humor was irreverent, satirical, surreal, and absurd, frequently challenging conventional comedic structures and defying expectations with bizarre, nonsensical, and unexpected punchlines. The group consisted of a small, all-male troupe – John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, Michael Palin, Graham Chapman, and Eric Idle – with its six members frequently playing multiple roles, often in exaggerated and deliberately unconvincing ways.

Their sketches and films featured satirical songs, which mock societal norms, historical events, and political issues with catchy tunes and darkly comedic lyrics. Case in point: the Knights of the Round Table tune and the snarky minstrel’s Bravely Bold Sir Robin ballads. The sextet also enjoyed subverting established canon or assumed characteristics. So instead of Bedivere the Wise, Brave Sir Robin, or Galahad the Chaste we get Bedivere the dunderhead, Robin the runaway, and Galahad the sexual opportunist.

A signature element of their comedy was the mixing of metaphors, such as blending a murder mystery or police procedural with a medieval action story or inserting 20th-century political issues—like repression and voting—into a medieval setting, creating anachronistic and highly satirical humor.

Like other comedy masters, the Pythons employed running gags for maximum comic effect, as evidenced by characters repeatedly saying they’re “not dead yet,” repeated mentions of swallows and shrubberies, Arthur consistently confusing the number 3 for 5, the darkly humorous lyrics of Sir Robin’s minstrel, the recurrent violence against shrieking cats, or the cowardly retreats continually made by Arthur’s supposedly valiant group.

The Pythons frequently played with gender roles and stereotypes, using cross-dressing and exaggerated performances to lampoon societal norms and expectations. We see, for example, Terry Jones playing a peasant woman, and John Cleese chewing the scenery as an insulting French Taunter.

Their humor could also be described as random and anarchic, often featuring abrupt scene transitions, unexpected fourth-wall breaks, ridiculous title credits, a sudden “Intermission” title card, and deliberately nonsensical plot developments. They regularly used speech impediments as comedic devices, too, exaggerating accents or lisps to create absurd characters.

Additionally, the Pythons frequently spoofed violence, warfare, barbarism, and Christianity-fueled carnage, using exaggerated brutality and slapstick-style gore to highlight the absurdity of historical and modern conflicts. Recall the Black Knight, who’s left with four bloodied stumps after his limbs are hacked off by Arthur, or the stuffy religious ritualism that prefaces the use of the Holy Hand Grenade.

Their work included head-trippy, psychedelic, two-dimensional animation as well, most famously created by Gilliam, which linked sketches together with surreal, often grotesque or crude imagery, such as the cartoon trumpeters who use their posteriors to play their instruments.

Embracing low-budget opportunism, Monty Python made clever use of simple props, costumes, and settings, commonly turning limitations into comedic strengths. Exhibit A: The simple syncopated clapping of two coconut shells and actors pantomiming a horse trot substituted for the lack of real horses which the filmmakers could not afford. Exhibit B: Gilliam’s madcap cartoonery depicting characters and escapades, such as the Black Beast of Aaargh or God appearing in the heavens, that otherwise would have required costly and elaborate special effects.

In an Uproxx essay, writer Matt Prigg posited: “After Holy Grail, the flood gates opened. It’s the movie that every sketch comedy troupe aspires to make, from Cheech and Chong to Kids in the Hall, from Broken Lizard to SNL. Wet Hot American Summer, Mo’ Money, and Run Ronnie Run owe it their lives as well. Even movies that are simply sketches, with no story, like The Kentucky Fried Movie, only exist because Python made it safe for sketch comedy troupes to invade the big screen, and you might as well throw the Muppets in there, too…It’s not hard to imagine Grail being a watershed movie for those into gory horror-comedies — people like Sam Raimi, the late Stuart Gordon, Peter Jackson, Edgar Wright, who must have thought this PG-rated comedy was onto something.”

Ponder that Saturday Night Live, the definitive American TV sketch comedy show, debuted just a few months after Holy Grail’s release and less than a year after the Flying Circus television show ended its five-year run.

Additionally, ruminate on how few British feature films before Monty Python and the Holy Grail were widely accepted by Americans. There were Ealing comedies like The Lavender Hill Mob (1951) and The Ladykillers (1955), the Richard Lester musical comedies A Hard Day’s Night (1964) and Help! (1965) starring the Beatles, and Bedazzled (1967) with Dudley Moore and Peter Cook, but little else.

Following Holy Grail, America and the world benefited from a plethora of British film comedies, including two more Python features – The Life of Brian (1979), and The Meaning of Life (1983) – as well as A Fish Called Wanda (1988), Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994), The Full Monty (1997), Notting Hill (1999), Edgar Wright pictures like Shaun of the Dead (2004) and Hot Fuzz (2007), Nick Park stop-motion animated films like Chicken Run (2000) and Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit (2005), and the live-action animated Paddington movies (2014 and 2017), among many others.

Holy Grail’s pervasive reach can also be traced across several other works, as well, including pictures directed by Gilliam that showcase flawed heroic quests and compromised heroes like Jabberwocky (1977), Time Bandits (1981), The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1989), The Fisher King (1991), The Brothers Grimm (2005), and The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (2018); Terry Jones’s Erik the Viking (1989), which also continues this tradition of imperfect heroes; History of the World Part I (1981) – Mel Brooks’ irreverent historical sendup appears to be an obvious descendent; This Is Spinal Tap (1984), in which Rob Reiner borrows Holy Grail's deadpan delivery and absurdist humor while also mimicking its low-budget aesthetic to blur the line between satire and reality; The Princess Bride (1987), Reiner’s parody of fantasy and adventure tropes that shares Holy Grail's playful medieval satire, subverting traditional heroic tales with comedic battle scenes, absurd dialogue, and a similar "None shall pass!" moment; Life is Cheap...But Toilet Paper is Expensive (1989) a surrealistic indie that embraces Holy Grail's surreal and chaotic humor, using no-frills filmmaking as a comedic device much like Monty Python did; Army of Darkness (1992), in which Sam Raimi parodies medieval epics with exaggerated slapstick, absurd anachronisms, and a bumbling hero reminiscent of Python’s take on King Arthur; Shrek (2001), which mocks fairy tale tropes with dry British wit, anachronistic humor, comedic songs, and absurd characters, much like Holy Grail did with Arthurian legend; Your Highness (2011), a film that follows Holy Grail's irreverent approach to knights and quests, replacing dry wit with crude humor while keeping the self-aware, anachronistic dialogue; Deadpool (2016), A superhero flick that channels Holy Grail's comedic style by frequently breaking the fourth wall and showcasing comedic gore; and Disenchantment (2018), Matt Groening’s animated series, which takes place in a medieval fantasy kingdom and owes more than a tip of the cap to Holy Grail. And Monty Python and the Holy Grail also fueled the creation of the Broadway musical Spamalot, with lyrics by Eric Idle, which enjoyed significant success and one multiple Tony Awards including Best Musical.

Predecessors that may have inspired the Python players include Spike Milligan and the Goon Show, the 1967 movie Camelot, and the 1974 film Lancelot of the Lake. Additionally, Holy Grail gives subtle nods to earlier movies that likely inspired the Pythons, among them Duck Soup (particularly its “We’re Going To War” song, elements of which seep into the Camelot number); The Wizard of Oz (recall how the imposing leader of the Knights who say Ni terrifies Arthur’s band and requests that they bring him a shrubbery, much like the Wizard asks Dorothy and company to fetch him the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West); The Seventh Seal by Bergman (which also depicts flagellation and a witch-burning and includes Swedish subtitles in the opening credits); and Ivan the Terrible Part I (Prince Herbert is an effeminate, dim-witted royal forced into an unwanted marriage, similar to Prince Vladimir from the Sergei Eisenstein film).

Several giants in comedy have credited the Pythons with significantly inspiring or impressing them. Martin Short said: ''Their influence was that absurdity in character could replace the punchline, the ba-dum-bum thing.'' Per Tommy Chong, ''They were the first to really show the world how funny men dressed as women could look.'' Tina Fey remarked: ''Sketch endings are overrated. Their key was to do something as long as it was funny and then just stop and do something else.'' Simpsons creator Matt Groening said: ''I just saw this streak in British humor of whimsical surrealism with just a hint of cruelty, and I found that incredibly appealing.'' He said he was motivated by Monty Python's "high-velocity sense of the absurd and not stopping to explain yourself." And SNL alum Mike Myers declared: ''Everything I've ever done can be distilled to at least one Python sketch. If comedy had a periodic element table, Python would have more than one atom on it.''

Believe it or not, it’s possible for a film as ridiculous as Monty Python and the Holy Grail to have themes. For starters, it’s hard to ignore the overall Python pessimism about human beings and their innate stupidity, pomposity, cruelty, and barbarism, which has been demonstrated throughout history. “Grail is as funny as a movie can get, but it is also a tough-minded picture – as outraged about the human propensity for violence as it is outrageous in its attack on that propensity,” according to the late film critic Richard Schickel.

In tandem with this thought, Holy Grail also emphasizes the unjust subjugation and suffering of the lower classes. We hear the peasants say: “Help! Help! I’m being repressed!" "We’re all individuals!" "I didn’t vote for you!" "You can’t expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you!"

Perhaps the biggest message gleaned from all this absurdity is that there are no sacred cows: Even venerated legendary characters like King Arthur and his knights, as well as their gallant quest, are fair game for farce. Holy Grail suggests an inherent fallacy in classical heroism and skewers the assumption that ancient monarchs and their loyal chevaliers were chivalrous, honorable, morally righteous, spiritually motivated, or ordained by the Almighty. 

The golden gift of the grail may have eluded King Arthur and his knights in this impish iteration of the myth, but the quest to thoroughly amuse its audience is undoubtedly achieved by Chapman, Cleese, Gilliam, Idle, Jones, and Palin, and that represents this work’s most plentiful present to viewers. The absurd and irreverent lens through which the Pythons view this legend, and the irrepressibly hilarious way they weave contemporary culture into a quasi-haughty narrative – cleverly placing banana peels along the path from Camelot and consequently tripping up the self-important, sanctimonious, and simpleminded – never fails to entertain. No rewatch is wasted, as the troupe has carefully constructed the comedy with multiple layers of mirth that can be peeled back and re-appreciated or freshly discovered. Many of the jokes effortlessly land a perfect bullseye on the first viewing. But umpteenth watches can yield unexpected yuks that you probably missed, like the chicken image on Sir Robin’s shield, the fact that the stream the Black Knight is guarding is tiny and can easily be crossed without using the bridge, the old man among the crowd with shaving cream on his face, the “with special extra thanks to” opening credits signed by Richard Nixon, the mustache on the face of the sun symbol worn by Arthur, and the sudden reanimation of the wedding guests killed by Lancelot in Swamp Castle who break out into song with the rest of the throng. Holy Grail appeals to the lowbrow, the highbrow, and all brows in between with unbridled zaniness, witty satire, physical comedy that defies physics, and cutting politico-cultural commentary one minute and fart jokes the next. It’s a grand bouillabaisse of clownery with special English herbs and spices, and more than a handful of spam thrown in for good measure, that make for an endlessly fulfilling feast of funniness.

Cineversary podcast celebrates 50th anniversary of Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Thursday, March 13, 2025

In Cineversary podcast episode #80, host ⁠Erik Martin⁠ lifts a golden chalice to toast the golden anniversary of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, directed by Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones. Joining him on this quest is Darl Larsen, a film and animation professor at Brigham Young University and author of A Book About the Film Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Together, they collect several nice and inexpensive shrubberies, decipher obscure Swedish subtitles, and try to convince listeners that they’re not quite dead as they explore why this film still matters 50 years later.
Darl Larsen

To listen to this episode, click here or click the "play" button on the embedded streaming player below. Or, you can stream, download, or subscribe to Cineversary wherever you get your podcasts, including Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Learn more about the Cineversary podcast at www.cineversary.com and email show comments or suggestions to cineversarypodcast@gmail.com.

Fresh blood in a tired subgenre

Tuesday, March 4, 2025

Imagine a vampire movie in which bloodsucking takes a backseat, the Gothic castle in East Europe is replaced by a dilapidated Queen Anne-style home in Detroit, and the undead are rockstar hipsters. That pretty much sums up Only Lovers Left Alive, a 2013 film written and directed by Jim Jarmusch that offers a hypnotic and atmospheric take on this horror subgenre. The narrative centers on Adam (Tom Hiddleston), a reclusive and melancholic musician in Detroit, and his centuries-old lover, Eve (Tilda Swinton), who resides in Tangier. As Adam sinks deeper into despair over the state of the modern world, Eve journeys to be with him, rekindling their love and shared reverence for art, history, and human culture. Their tranquil existence is upended by the arrival of Eve’s wild and impulsive younger sister, Ava (Mia Wasikowska), whose reckless behavior throws their world into disarray. John Hurt appears as Christopher Marlowe, a fellow vampire and Eve’s trusted confidant, while Anton Yelchin plays Ian, a mortal who aids Adam in acquiring rare instruments.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Only Lovers Left Alive, conducted last week, click here.


Jarmusch and his collaborators suffuse the vampire mythos with fresh and fascinating ideas, including vampires as connoisseurs of art, culture, and coolness; vampire soulmates who truly love each other emotionally, intellectually, and physically; world-weary members of the undead who experience ennui and suicidal thoughts; and nosferatu who look upon actual bloodsucking for sustenance as primitive, choosing instead to curate only the finest available supply of intoxicating red corpuscles via the black market.

The concept of undying characters who acquire vast knowledge and appreciation for the true masterminds of science, literature, music, and the arts – and who can also instantly identify modern-day prodigies – is one of the most thought-provoking aspects of Only Lovers Left Alive.

As is true of many Jarmusch movies, not much happens here. This is more a film about the feels, about luxuriating in gothy Bohemian spaces with finely cultured dagger-toothed dandies who happen to be vampires and the artistic and erudite accouterment they prefer surrounding themselves with. The pace is unapologetically languid, but the chill tone, shadowy cinematography, and fully inhabited performances more than make up for a skeletal narrative.

This is less a genre film or horror feature than a romantic character study. Yes, there are forays into vampiric lore, including the need to drink blood and avoid sunlight. And Jarmusch even introduces a new trope in nosferatu mythology: the wearing of leather gloves outside of the vampire’s habitat. However, the horror elements play second fiddle to the fascinating romance dynamic and personality contrasts between Adam and Eve: He’s often clad in black and she in white, suggesting their oppositeness.

Jarmusch was quoted in an interview saying: “Obviously, it’s not a horror movie, as most vampire movies are…I think it’s just the overview that it allowed, because they’ve been alive so long, to show a love story that spans that amount of time… To be able to see their perception of history over long period of times, was really interactive to me. And their own love story, to span that amount of time, was what drew me to it.”

The filmmakers are aware that Adam and Eve are fair game for criticism by viewers as cold and snobbishly unrelatable highbrows; but Ava calling them out on this behavior as she’s kicked out of their home helps defuse this criticism.

What’s Only Lovers Left Alive really about? Societal and cultural decay, of course. This vampire duo represents an enlightened, aristocratic, and elitist pair who, thanks to their immortality, can accurately observe both progress and devolution on Earth. They refer to mortals as “zombies,” the relatively uneducated proletariat who have allowed the world to decline and who don’t appreciate the fine details of nature nor the works of geniuses that history has often overlooked.

But more than that, this is a testament to timeless love and commitment. Adam and Eve have been married since 1868 and remain loyal and devoted to each other, even though they often spend long spans apart separated by continents. They resonate as empathetic romantics who eschew traditional vampire violence, defying the typical trope of the selfish, predatory, and barbaric bloodsucker.

Takeaway #3? Creativity, curiosity, and a thirst for knowledge fuel the drive to survive and thrive. We see how much Eve treasures her favorite books and authors and maintains a wondrous curiosity about even the smallest details in nature, such as mushrooms growing where they shouldn’t be. Adam is motivated by the desire to experiment with music, an inquisitiveness that compels him to seek out and play antique instruments – which suggests that part of the secret to successful innovation is to respect the past and its pioneers. Perhaps what prevents Adam from killing himself with the wooden bullet, besides his love for Eve, is his passion for music.

Slate critic Sharan Shetty believes appreciating Eve is the key to better understanding what he believes is this film’s central tenet: “Jarmusch skeptics may mistake vampire Adam’s incessant odes to dead artists and thinkers as a surrogate for the director’s own high-minded nostalgia. But Only Lovers is not a lament for the way things were; it’s a paean to Eve, to a hope for the future. Swinton’s character is inspiring, her worship of the world all the more surprising because it flows not from a curious child but from a centuries-old creature of the night. She should be more jaded; she is not. She at times seems like the only lover, anywhere, who is actually alive.”

Similar works

  • The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) – A melancholic, existential sci-fi film starring David Bowie as an alien trapped on Earth
  • The Hunger (1983) – A stylish and melancholic vampire film starring Catherine Deneuve, David Bowie, and Susan Sarandon
  • Wings of Desire (1987) – A poetic film about angels observing human life, capturing a similar longing and detachment
  • Three Colors: Blue (1993), and Three Colors: Red (1994)
  • Let the Right One In (2008) – A haunting and poetic Swedish vampire film about loneliness and connection
  • Thirst (2009) – Park Chan-wook’s dark, sensual, and philosophical take on the vampire myth
  • Byzantium (2012) – a gothic vampire film about two immortal women hiding their past because it threatens their survival
  • Under the Skin (2013) – A slow, eerie sci-fi film starring Scarlett Johansson as an alien hunting humans
  • A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014) – An Iranian black-and-white vampire film with a dreamy, arthouse feel
  • I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2020) – a surreal psychological horror-drama about reality unraveling during a tense visit to a farmhouse

Other films by Jim Jarmusch

  • Stranger Than Paradise (1984)
  • Down by Law (1986)
  • Mystery Train (1989)
  • Night on Earth (1991)
  • Dead Man (1995)
  • Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)
  • Coffee and Cigarettes (2003)
  • Broken Flowers (2005)
  • The Dead Don't Die (2019)

A cross-cultural romcom

Tuesday, February 25, 2025

Outsourced (2006), directed by John Jeffcoat, is a curious under-the-radar American romantic comedy that explores cultural differences between the United States and India within the context of globalization and outsourcing. The film follows Todd Anderson, a call center manager from Seattle, played by Josh Hamilton, whose department is relocated to India. Sent abroad to train his replacement, Todd initially struggles with adapting to the unfamiliar customs and work environment. However, as he immerses himself in Indian culture, he forms a bond with Asha, a confident and intelligent employee portrayed by Ayesha Dharker. Their budding romance, along with Todd’s growing appreciation for his new surroundings, transforms his outlook on both his professional and personal life.

The film received critical acclaim for its thoughtful approach to globalization and cross-cultural relationships, earning praise for its authenticity and wit. Its success even led to a short-lived NBC television adaptation in 2010, further cementing its place as a standout film that blends comedy with social commen    tary.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Outsourced, conducted last week, click here.


To its credit or detriment – depending on how you look at it – Outsourced avoids any major drama or conflict, despite its sensitive subject matter of workers being devalued and unappreciated, instead treating this topic as a lighthearted romcom. Some would call this a refreshingly positive and entertaining spin while others could criticize this work as culturally insensitive and clichéd – a whitewashing of the harsh reality that many exploited and underpaid workers in India face. Austin Chronicle critic Josh Rosenblatt wrote: “Any movie willing to put such a sunshiny glow on such a deflating subject deserves some credit, whether for inveterate optimism or good-natured self-delusion. Its head may be in the sand, but Outsourced is a good-spirited idyll, an escape from reality, naive to a fault, and all but unconcerned with the troubles of the world but almost – almost – convincing in its innocence.”

Although there’s the hint of a romantic lifeline in the final scene, Outsourced doesn’t give us the overdone boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back formula; while we admire Asha’s agency as a covert lover in a relationship -controlled society, she doesn’t seem to want to buck familial tradition or cultural rules by refusing her impending prearranged marriage. The speed with which she and Todd fall into a physical relationship appears Hollywoodized and convenient, adding arguably an unfortunate and predictable element to the story (as well as a running gag with the Kamasutra jokes); nevertheless, the romance is necessary to help us better identify with Todd as a sympathetic character and to add some zest to an otherwise straightforward “fish out of water” narrative in which the outsider learns and grows.

That being said, even though it’s necessary for proper character arcing, Todd’s transition from peeved ugly American abroad to enlightened expatriate with a heart of gold – demarcated by the scene in which he submerges into the water and emerges an apparently new man – seems to occur implausibly quickly.

Possibly the movie’s best moment is the relatively wordless scene where he climbs the wall and follows the town’s unofficial electrician to enjoy a simple meal with his family sitting on the street. It’s a touching sequence devoid of trite comedy touches that shows us another side to this colorful country he’s learning to explore.

Outsourced espouses that flexibility is the secret to survival. Todd and his staff quickly learn that they must pivot and adapt to rapidly changing conditions and external pressures if they want to keep their jobs and succeed in an increasingly unpredictable business environment and, in Todd’s case, an exotic sociocultural environment. This is a film about the value of rolling with the changes.

Indeed, learning to assimilate and step outside your comfort zone without major resistance is the obvious raison d’être. Recall what the fellow American tells Todd in the fast food restaurant: “I was resisting India. Once I gave in, I did much better.” In the first act, recall how Todd acts like an entitled and narrow-minded American infiltrator, refusing to embrace cultural differences and treating employees without courtesy, kindness, or respect. But after a baptismal epiphany during India’s Holi festival, we see how Todd becomes happier and a more effective leader by learning to better appreciate and respect India, its people, and their traditions.

Ultimately, this film reminds us that people around the world essentially want the same things. These include a trustworthy employer that pays them fairly and values them as human beings, kindness, understanding, and acceptance from others – particularly strangers and those in authority – and an opportunity to love and be loved (as demonstrated by Purohit’s ambition to get married as well as Asha’s desire for a fling before her arranged marriage).

Similar works

  • Lost in Translation (2003) – A more introspective take on cultural displacement, set in Tokyo.
  • The Terminal (2004) – Tom Hanks plays a man stuck in an airport due to visa issues, adapting to an unfamiliar environment.
  • A Good Year (2006) – A businessman inherits a vineyard in France and learns to appreciate a slower, richer life.
  • Slumdog Millionaire (2008) – A Mumbai slum boy's life story unfolds through flashbacks as he wins Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, revealing love, hardship, and destiny.
  • The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011) – British retirees move to India, experiencing both the beauty and chaos of a new culture.
  • Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (2011) – A British fisheries expert works on an unusual project in the Middle East, leading to unexpected friendships.
  • Queen (2013, Bollywood) – An Indian woman goes on a solo honeymoon to Europe after being jilted and discovers herself through cultural interactions.
  • The Internship (2013) – Two older salesmen land an internship at Google and struggle to adapt to a new work culture.
  • Chef (2014) – A chef reinvents himself by starting a food truck business, emphasizing personal and professional transformation.
  • The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014) – An Indian family opens a restaurant in France, leading to a cultural clash and eventual mutual appreciation.
  • The Man Who Knew Infinity (2015) – A biographical drama about an Indian mathematician navigating Cambridge University.

Other films by John Jeffcoat

  • Big in Japan (2014)
  • Bingo! The Documentary (1999)
  • Amplified Seattle (2010)

Here's what's really Happening in this brave film by Audrey Diwan

Saturday, February 22, 2025

One of the most talked-about and significant films focused on a woman’s right to choose, Happening (L'Événement) is a 2021 French drama directed by Audrey Diwan, based on Annie Ernaux's autobiographical novel of the same name. Set in France in 1963, the story follows Anne Duchesne (Anamaria Vartolomei), a bright university student who finds herself unexpectedly pregnant at a time when abortion was illegal in that country. Determined to continue her education and escape the social constraints placed on women, Anne desperately seeks a way to terminate her pregnancy, facing increasing isolation and danger. Happening received high praise for its unflinching and intimate portrayal of reproductive rights, bodily autonomy, and societal oppression, winning the Golden Lion at the 78th Venice International Film Festival.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Happening, conducted last week, click here.


Be forewarned: This a visceral cinematic experience that can affect you intellectually, emotionally, and even physically. Watching Anne attempt a self-induced abortion and, later, two attempts at pregnancy termination with the aid of a clandestine abortionist, is, to say the least, cringe-worthy and stomach-turning – all too palpably real in their subjectively detailed depictions and made all the more nightmarishly realistic thanks to a stunning performance by Vartolomei – who is asked to do so much in this role, including frequently act in various stages of undress. The director astutely uses long takes, handheld cameras, and subjective POV shots to put the viewer in the shoes of this character, forcing us to identify with her corporeal and existential dilemma.

Interestingly, while this film is subtextually critical of patriarchal society and its rules and conventions, and most of the male characters are not sympathetic, Diwan doesn’t throw the entire gender under the bus. We see how Jean, who earlier persuades Anne to have sex with him with no consequences, later proves his merit as a friend by referring her to resources that can help; professor Bornec, who comes across as cold and harsh throughout most of the story, demonstrates empathy for his student later when she hints at being formerly pregnant; and her main doctor appears slightly compassionate, even though he doesn’t go out of his way to assist her; we also observe how Anne watches her parents laughing together during a dinnertime scene, suggesting that she recognizes the value of a loving relationship between a man and a woman.

The filmmakers also refreshingly present female characters who aren’t afraid to pursue or exhibit sexual gratification, helping to skewer the old double standard that only males in serious dramas are allowed to act horny while women remain pure and demure. Per Roger Ebert.com critic Tomris Laffly: “Among Diwan’s greatest feats with “Happening” is making a case not only for safe access to legal abortions, but also for true sexual freedom that dares to yearn for a world where slut-shaming is a thing of the past. With scenes both unassuming and rapturous—especially a radical one where a female friend demonstrates her masturbation technique in front of a shocked Anne—Diwan almost stubbornly validates and celebrates the equality of a woman’s desire. What a rare treat in a punishing world that denies women that parity.”

This is a period piece set in 1963 France, yet it avoids the antiquity trappings that often come with time capsule movies of a specific era and place. The film intentionally feels modern, insinuating that these characters and situations could exist in today’s world. Consequently, Happening feels more topical and relevant today and certainly in 2021 when it was released (especially in America at that time, just before the U.S. Supreme Court reversed Roe versus Wade).

The main message here is clear: Lack of agency begets extreme consequences. Anne, like all women at this time in France (and most nations around the world), was forbidden from terminating her pregnancy and threatened with prison time if she even attempted an abortion. Yet keeping her child would likely mean living a life of public shame and being prevented from pursuing higher education or a preferred vocation. This character’s existential plight resonates with any viewer who tries to understand the extreme challenges many women have faced in the past and confront in the present when they try to exercise their reproductive rights and evade patriarchal rules that commonly eliminate a woman’s right to choose what she wants to do with her body.

Happening also explores the pursuit of freedom and choice at all costs. Martin Tsai, a critic with the AV Club, wrote: “For Anne, her choices are liberty or death. Hélène says early on about herself that she’ll be operating a tractor the following year if she flunks the exam. Anne is resolved to continue her studies. She plainly explains to one of her doctors that if she were to give up her promising future for a child, she’d end up resenting the child for the rest of her life. So she risks her life, even if she could still end up spending it in a literal prison if she survives.”

Alienation and social rejection are under the director’s microscope, too. Anne endures slut shaming from many of her fellow classmates, scorn and ridicule from male doctors, and lack of support from her friends. Fortunately, her male friend Jean connects her to a female who refers Anne to a back-alley abortionist. And one of her cronies who previously refused to help, Helene, offers emotional support and confides that she, too, dabbled in sex but didn’t get pregnant.

On a positive note, Happening espouses the value of pivoting in the face of change. Anne’s harrowing experiences cause her to shift from her initial goal of being a teacher to now being a writer; considering that this story is adapted from the 2000 memoir Happening by Ernaux, based on her real-life experiences, the protagonist decided to tell the world about her ordeal in book form.

Similar works

  • One Sings, the Other Doesn’t (1977)
  • Story of Women (1988)
  • A Simple Story (1991)
  • Dekalog: Chapter 2 (1990)
  • L’Enfant (2005)
  • 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2007)
  • Vera Drake (2004)
  • The Kid with a Bike (2011)
  • Invisible Life (2019)
  • Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
  • Never Rarely Sometimes Always (2020)
  • Tori and Lokita (2022)

Savoring Fellini's "sweet life" cinema

Wednesday, February 19, 2025

One of the crown jewels of world cinema, La Dolce Vita (1960) follows the life of Marcello Rubini, a disillusioned journalist played by Marcello Mastroianni, as he navigates Rome’s glamorous but empty nightlife in search of meaning. Over seven episodic days and nights, he encounters celebrities, aristocrats, intellectuals, and socialites, including the sensual American actress Sylvia (Anita Ekberg), the wealthy and detached Maddalena (Anouk Aimée), his jealous fiancée Emma (Yvonne Furneaux), and the intellectual Steiner (Alain Cuny). Directed by Federico Fellini, the film is best known for its striking black-and-white cinematography by Otello Martelli, its innovative storytelling, and its cultural impact. A meditation on decadence, fame, and the loss of authenticity, the picture won the Palme d’Or at Cannes and continues to influence cinema, fashion, and art, with Mastroianni’s performance cementing him as an icon of European film.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of La Dolce Vita, conducted earlier this month, click here. To hear the latest Cineversary podcast episode celebrating the 65th anniversary of La Dolce Vita, click here.


La Dolce Vita still resonates 65 years later because it remains a fascinating cultural artifact of a particular place and time: Late 1950s Rome. It contains several visually arresting vignettes and set pieces that take us throughout the city and across different classes, subcultures, and sites – taking us along the journey to several iconic Roman locations, including the Trevi Fountain; Via Veneto; St. Peter’s Basilica; the Baths of Caracalla; Castel Sant’Angelo; the EUR District; and Piazza del Popolo.

“Always a master of the grand tableau, Fellini captures Rome in staggering breadth, from the opening aerial shots of the city, the narrow streets, prostitutes' bedrooms through to aristocratic homes and around the historic landmarks on the back of a Vespa. He's like a tireless, voluble tour guide; you're never quite sure where he's going but you're compelled to follow,” Guardian critic Steve Rose assessed.

The film visually showcases what was called the Italian economic miracle, occurring from roughly 1958 to 1963, when the country experienced rapid industrial growth, transforming from an agrarian society into a major economic power, and living standards were improved. This gave rise to two particular movements: "café society" in Italy and Europe, represented by groups of fashionable and wealthy people who gathered in stylish cafes, restaurants, and nightclubs to socialize and engage in artistic and intellectual conversations; and celebrity culture, in which famous actors, models, athletes, and personalities become glamorized and overexposed through an increasingly shameless, debased media that satiate the public’s voracious appetite for glitz, gossip, scandal, and sex appeal, spread lies, and stage exaggerated or fake events.

This work has stood the test of time thanks to the efforts of an adventurous filmmaker who wasn’t afraid to deviate from traditional narrative construction and, to some extent, rewrite the form—which keeps this picture feeling fresh and innovative. Instead of following a standard three-act structure and straightforward plot, Fellini presents interrelated but not necessarily linear vignettes (consisting of 50 total scenes), each spanning 14 to 30 minutes, that follow his main character over roughly 7 days and nights, with each episode including or prefacing a nocturnal adventure and/or the dawn that follows it. Along this journey, the director discards the rules of conflict and closure, continuity, and redemptive characteristics that can make a protagonist sympathetic – although there is still a traceable character arc if you follow Marcello’s journey.

Ponder how Fellini constantly surprises us with unexpected transitions, juxtaposed images, and ellipses between scenes. Recall the opening helicopter sequence, which immediately shifts to a medium close-up of a nightclub dancer clad in a Far East mask and garb; Marcello running into a church (a place we least expect him to visit); the abrupt swing from the dreamlike romance of the Trevi Fountain to harsh sunup reality as Sylvia’s fiancé slaps her and punches Marcello; the lavish revelry that cuts to Marcello wandering Rome’s empty streets; the lively party transitioning quickly to the grim discovery of Steiner’s suicide and filicide; and the debauched orgy that moves outdoors to the beach at quiet dawn.

“(Fellini’s) best films live and breathe and morph, none more so than the picaresque La dolce vita, which may be his most nearly perfect, astutely rueful, least sentimental work,” per Criterion Collection essayist Gary Giddens. “One of the most prescient of all films, it now triggers a different set of keywords than it did in the early 1960s…After a dozen years of neorealism, which cataloged the privations of postwar Italy, Fellini reinvented Rome as a caravan of dreams or nightmares, debauched, pathetic, yet perfidiously appealing, a tourist attraction and also a recruitment station for the inferno.”

La Dolce Vita also still matters because it continues to be a cerebral experience. It requires more active participation from the viewer and, therefore, rewards those who ponder more intellectually about what Fellini and company are trying to say. Thematically rich and creatively constructed, it’s a thinking person’s picture, although more passive viewers can still find it entertaining and graphically gratifying even if they’re not exactly sure how all the Marcello episodes fit together.

The film’s influential reach is impressive. Consider how it was responsible for originating three words or phrases that took root in the cultural consciousness, including the “paparazzi,” “Felliniesque,” and “la dolce vita” itself (which means “the sweet life”). The movie also made Marcello Mastroianni an international star and Fellini’s most frequently used actor from that point forward. In his thought-provoking essay, Giddens provides ample examples of the film’s pervasive reach and lasting impact in the short and long term: “(La Dolce Vita) augurs our obsessions with the loss of privacy and the rise of virtuality, the deadening of the senses and the addiction to technology, the corruption of media, the lust for fame, and the waning of lust when acculturation trumps individual agency. La dolce vita altered the look, style, and expanse of movies, popularizing overdressed Euro-chic ennui, deflating the pneumatic concupiscence of bombshell film queens, urbanizing the garden of earthly delights, and setting them to warped cabaret music. Movies were soon rife with Americans spending two weeks in another town, usually Rome. Alfred Hitchcock appropriated the sequence of Anita Ekberg wading in Trevi Fountain as backstory for The Birds. Bob Dylan rhymed La dolce vita and Rita in Motorpsycho Nightmare.”

Of course, Fellini’s own 8 ½ (1963) shares visual and thematic elements and also stars Mastroianni. Other cinematic kindred spirits include La Notte (1961), The Exterminating Angel (1962), I Knew Her Well (1965), Woody Allen’s Celebrity (1998) and To Rome With Love (2012), and even Pee Wee’s Big Adventure (1985), as blogger Jenna Ipcar demonstrates an interesting essay. The Great Beauty (La Grande Bellezza, 2013), about an aging writer encountering high society decadence in Rome, is regarded as a more contemporary La Dolce Vita.

Literary and cinematic predecessors that might have inspired La Dolce Vita include Dante’s Divine Comedy (1320), T.S. Eliot’s poem The Waste Land (1922), Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time (1913–1927), F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925), Billy Wilder’s film Ace in the Hole (1951), Michelangelo Antonioni’s Le Amiche (1955) and Il Grido (1957), and Luchino Visconti’s White Nights (1957).

Fellini is clearly taking aim here at moral vacuity and ennui in an increasingly vapid culture and self-indulgent society. La Dolce Vita hints at the dangers of decadence, hedonism, celebrity culture, lack of empathy, and ethical indifference in an increasingly secular world that values immediate gratification. Slant magazine reviewer Matthew Connolly sums it up well: “Fellini’s coolly damning masterpiece observes a vast array of celebrities, scenesters, performers, artists, dilettantes, would-be intellectuals, and hangers-on of all shapes and sizes—every one of them fiddling while Rome burns, or at least creaks under the weight of its own spiritual malaise.”

The existential conflict at the center of the story is hard to miss. Our protagonist must choose between indulgence versus integrity, style versus substance, and short-term gains versus long-term fulfillment. Marcello is torn between the pleasure principled sweet life of tabloid journalism and its decadent perks, or less glamorous literary and intellectual pursuits as a serious writer. He vacillates between disposable partners who offer pleasurable but fleeting and meaningless sexual flings and a relationship with his fiancée who can love him for a lifetime but who crimps his lifestyle and ambitions with her clinginess and jealousy. Recall how Steiner’s friend Laura tells Marcello “…you have two loves, and you don't know which one to choose: journalism or literature. Beware of prisons! Remain free, available, like me. Never marry anything. Never choose. Even in love, it's better to be chosen. The great thing is to burn, and not to freeze.” We remember Marcello’s remark: “I need a change of scene…I’m wasting my life.”

Ruminate on how Marcello is often shown ascending or descending levels via staircases, scaffolding, and a helicopter. These upward movements – including his stair climb up Saint Peter’s dome, Marcello’s ascent to Steiner’s high-rise apartment, and his elevation to the loft where Steiner plays the organ possibly suggest a moral uplifting or his attempts to attain a higher ideal. Downward movements – going down into the crypt, the prostitute’s home, or the underground nightclubs – signify falls from grace and a lowering of standards.

La Dolce Vita is also a film about frustration, centered on sexual, career, and relationship disappointments and dissatisfaction. Time and again, Marcello (and his father in a later scene) is thwarted from kissing or coupling with an object of desire, greeting yet another new dawn without fulfillment, release, or epiphany. After Steiner’s fall from grace in his eyes, Marcello apparently drops any hopes of pursuing serious writing, abandoning journalism altogether to become an even less respectable press agent. He has become a hollow, pathetic figure of self-loathing. Critic Roger Ebert called this film “an allegory – a cautionary tale of a man without a center.”

Irony and hypocrisy abound in this Fellini creation, as well. Ponder how Marcello often tries to evade the media spotlight when it shines on him, yet he’s a card-carrying member of that club; we observe his friend Paparazzo cross himself religiously before taking a photo for his tabloid rag during the “field of miracles” segment; Marcello and Emma constantly fight and break up, only to quickly reunite; Emma realizes that the children’s claim to have seen the Madonna is a sham yet still prays for Marcello’s affection, joining the crowd in tearing apart the nearby tree for precious pieces of its branches; Marcello lionizes Steiner and seeks to emulate this mentor but is completely disillusioned when Steiner kills himself and his children; Maddalena says she’s in love with Marcello and hints at marriage but a moment later is seen lustfully kissing a stranger.

Time and again La Dolce Vita juxtaposes two polarities – the sacred versus the profane – with memorable images and contrasting ideas. Examples include the two symbols of Christ that open and close the film (the Jesus statue versus the washed-up sea creature); the statue imagery – comedically insinuating the Messiah’s second coming in a sacrilegious way, according to the Catholic Church – followed closely by visions of bikini-clad beauties and sensationalistic journalists; the visibly present “perfect woman”, embodied in Silvia, contrasting with another idealized but invisible female, the Virgin Mary; the carnivalesque media circus that is created on a would-be sanctified site; and the hallowed organ music played from the church as opposed to the secular pop tunes emanating from the nightclubs or, as I like to call it “Bach vs. Bacchus,” the Roman god of wine and revelry.

Some viewers struggle to interpret the ending of the film. Here’s one reading: The dead aquatic animal – perhaps a manta ray – washed up on the beach can be loosely deciphered as a symbol of a dead Christ (Jesus is often associated with fish and Piscean imagery); recall how the fishermen say the animal had been dead for three days, the length of time Christ was deceased before being resurrected. Remember how the film opens with the striking imagery of a gigantic Jesus statue being helicoptered across Rome; this dead fish visual then serves as a spiritual-shifting-to-secular bookend to the narrative – Marcello’s story as well as Italy’s story through the eyes of Fellini.

The waitress Paola is present in this scene for thematic reasons and to remind Marcello of their first encounter at the cafe, when he was attempting to be a serious writer; however, he doesn’t recognize or hear her, which intimates that he has completely forgotten that ambition or talent and is deaf to a higher calling. Remember how, at the opening of the film, Marcello – aloft in a helicopter – experienced a similar problem hearing and communicating with the rooftop sunbathers.

The breaking of the fourth wall, with Paola turning to stare directly at us, continued a recent European and French new wave tradition in which characters in films by Bergman (Summer With Monika, 1953), Truffaut (The 400 Blows, 1959, which famously ends with a still frame of the protagonist looking at the camera), and Godard (Breathless, 1960) do the same. A similar shot occurs earlier in La Dolce Vita, when Steiner and his wife briefly stare into the camera (which is not necessarily a POV shot from Marcello’s perspective). The image of Paola – a relatively insignificant character who functions more as a symbol of purity, innocence, and simplicity – looking directly into our eyes implies that she’s also looking directly at Marcello, and vice versa; her semi-smiling visage, with a face described earlier by Marcello as angelic, gives Marcello and the audience hope that he can choose a more virtuous path in the future if he wants it. 

This movie’s most valuable largesse to the masses who continue to flock to the shrine of Fellini is its ability to both entertain and illuminate, to completely capture our attention with its loose episodic structure yet also provide a moral message without any sermonizing as well as a fairly clear – if frustrating – character arc in the form of Marcello, a man torn between two modes of living who ultimately chooses the easier path: the “sweet life” of this film’s title. The multiple vignettes serve as short films within the film and would make fascinating feature-length narratives of their own if expanded upon. 

Yet, collectively, they’re greater than the sum of their parts because each episode contributes to the overall mosaic that is Marcello, a figure who’s more than a conflicted journalist pulled in two opposing directions; he represents Italy itself at a crossroads moment in its history when the traditions and beliefs of the past were being supplanted or challenged by contemporary ideas and trends that seemed to value vice over virtue, fame and fortune over integrity, commercialism over intellectualism, and profligacy and selfishness over good taste and goodwill. This is a film of ideas that challenges the viewer to think beyond the basic narrative, learn more about the cultural context of this period in Italy’s history, and look for parallels and dichotomies within each of the chapters presented.

Cineversary podcast celebrates 65th anniversary of Fellini's La Dolce Vita

Thursday, February 13, 2025

Antonio Monda
In Cineversary podcast episode #79, host ⁠Erik Martin⁠ marks the 65th anniversary of one of the crown jewels of world cinema, La Dolce Vita, directed by Federico Fellini. Accompanying him this month is filmmaker and Fellini scholar Antonio Monda, associate professor at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts. Together, they explore how the movie broke new ground, why it’s still relevant, its multiple themes, and much more.

To listen to this episode, click here or click the "play" button on the embedded streaming player below. Or, you can stream, download, or subscribe to Cineversary wherever you get your podcasts, including Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Learn more about the Cineversary podcast at www.cineversary.com and email show comments or suggestions to cineversarypodcast@gmail.com.

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