"La Voce della Luna" or "The Voice of the Moon" is the last Fellini feature film I had yet to watch... and fittingly the last Fellini movie, his swan song, his epitaph, a beautiful ode to the unique reveries that old age might inspire, coincidentally released the same year than Akira Kurosawa's "Dreams"... or maybe it is just a small oddity that would content Fellini completists like myself and there's not much to say about that film that isn't exactly in the same league than "La Strada" or "La Dolce Vita". But after watching the 2002 documentary: "Fellini, I am a Big Liar" I suspect that the Maestro never intended to make masterpieces, he simply let his inspiration get the best of him and translate it into his own cinematic language, he was a true Artist, a poet and like most poets, misunderstood.
I didn't understand "Voice of the Moon" either... but it was a choice, I didn't care about understanding, I let myself transported within the melancholic and introspective mood guided the sight of a big bright full moon just like the tides... the film is about two men, two misfits who according to many reviewers, represent the two sides of Fellini: Ivo Salvini (Roberto Benigni) is a madcap little man who hears the moon whispering his name from a well (has there been a more lyrical osmosis between imagery and sound ?) he wanders under the pastoral emptiness of a landscape that recalls Fellini's hometown. It's interesting that his first movie "Lights Variety" was about the turbulent night life in Post-War Italy with jazz, nightclubs or mambo dancers you could meet anytime in a deserted street (and here's Cabiria emerging from memory) but Italy of the 1990 has surrendered to the boisterous flashiness of media, dance music and beauty pageants, it's Berlusconi time, and Fellini like a dying breed of men longs for silence, for the quietness of the night, the time where you can listen to yourself.
The second character is a malcontent politician named Gonnella (Paolo Villagio) a stocky man wearing a scarf, a fedora hat and a trench-coat and whose stocky allure recalls the Maestro himself, his discretion is tainted with disappointment and defiance toward the world, he refuses to join a party of old men who cordially invites him, fearing that this would be a banquet held by the Grim Reaper, his eyes lacks the very bliss that fills Ivo's eyes, and within their interactions, the way both listen one to another, there's the spirit of a Fellini with a foot on the grave and the other foot still dancing...I was afraid that the film would be set at night and would only be a series of disjointed vignettes filled with rather lackluster moments but it's a little more than that and as the story progresses, we can feel the inspiration of the Maestro growing and ending with a great finale and dance sequence and a sort of mishmash of all the names starting with P, players, prostitutes, politicians and priests and only in a Fellini you'd have a sort a giant gate opens to reveal a rave party with Michael Jackson's music playing, but just when you think this is Fellini, without Nino Rota, surrendering to modernity, the music transitions to a great waltz under the Blue Danube.
That's it. Fellini's movies never prepares you for anything and as he said in his interview, he doesn't make movies with a script but with an inspiration, a set of imagery before letting the magic of dreams resurfacing and being the action's catalysis, Fellini's language is so unique that when you watch his movies, the plot is totally accessory, what you follow is a sort of continuum of images and lines that sound like lyrics we sing while being numb by the inebriating effect of life and the haunting prospect of death... at that point I daren't overthinking "Voice of the Moon" because to be fair, this is a true riddle for ages, and after his nostalgia-loaded "Ginger and Fred" "Intervista" where we could say goodbye to his iconic partners-in-crime Marcelle "Come Here" Mastroianni and Guiletta "Cabiria" Masina, "Voice of the Moon" must be enjoyed like the final spurt of creativity of a humble genius at the twilight of his life who could afford to make a puzzling ode to the night whose dark clouds were starting to overshadow the brightness.
I feel like I'm dodging the analytical aspect, I'm aware that there's a lot to interpret in this film, there are many faces to evoke, there's the scene with French actor Sim as an oboist who enjoys sleeping next to a cemetery, finding inner peace, a sexual scene that is shot like a vertiginous carrousel, all the Fellinian extravaganza is served us on a plate so we can taste it and digest it... but since this is his last film, I enjoyed the contemplating more than the savoring, not trying to find many answers and write a philosophical essay, I'll just say that the film has a beauty and a poetry of its own that's not everyone's cup of tea, maybe some Fellini fans would consider it a lesser film, which it is, as far as reputation and prestige goes, hard to believe the film wasn't even released in the U. S. but maybe Fellini had lost his touch with the public and it's interesting that his last film starred Benigni, the little clown who'd sweep the Oscars a few years later and who was himself a show to watch.
But no need to rumble on these trivia, "Voice of the Moon" is Fellini's epitaph and also a little trick he left us before leaving this world, a few months before Giuletta Masina, leaving our eyes to be dazzled, our feet to tap on the tempo on his catchy melodies.. and our head to scratch naturalmente.
Ciao, Maestro!
I didn't understand "Voice of the Moon" either... but it was a choice, I didn't care about understanding, I let myself transported within the melancholic and introspective mood guided the sight of a big bright full moon just like the tides... the film is about two men, two misfits who according to many reviewers, represent the two sides of Fellini: Ivo Salvini (Roberto Benigni) is a madcap little man who hears the moon whispering his name from a well (has there been a more lyrical osmosis between imagery and sound ?) he wanders under the pastoral emptiness of a landscape that recalls Fellini's hometown. It's interesting that his first movie "Lights Variety" was about the turbulent night life in Post-War Italy with jazz, nightclubs or mambo dancers you could meet anytime in a deserted street (and here's Cabiria emerging from memory) but Italy of the 1990 has surrendered to the boisterous flashiness of media, dance music and beauty pageants, it's Berlusconi time, and Fellini like a dying breed of men longs for silence, for the quietness of the night, the time where you can listen to yourself.
The second character is a malcontent politician named Gonnella (Paolo Villagio) a stocky man wearing a scarf, a fedora hat and a trench-coat and whose stocky allure recalls the Maestro himself, his discretion is tainted with disappointment and defiance toward the world, he refuses to join a party of old men who cordially invites him, fearing that this would be a banquet held by the Grim Reaper, his eyes lacks the very bliss that fills Ivo's eyes, and within their interactions, the way both listen one to another, there's the spirit of a Fellini with a foot on the grave and the other foot still dancing...I was afraid that the film would be set at night and would only be a series of disjointed vignettes filled with rather lackluster moments but it's a little more than that and as the story progresses, we can feel the inspiration of the Maestro growing and ending with a great finale and dance sequence and a sort of mishmash of all the names starting with P, players, prostitutes, politicians and priests and only in a Fellini you'd have a sort a giant gate opens to reveal a rave party with Michael Jackson's music playing, but just when you think this is Fellini, without Nino Rota, surrendering to modernity, the music transitions to a great waltz under the Blue Danube.
That's it. Fellini's movies never prepares you for anything and as he said in his interview, he doesn't make movies with a script but with an inspiration, a set of imagery before letting the magic of dreams resurfacing and being the action's catalysis, Fellini's language is so unique that when you watch his movies, the plot is totally accessory, what you follow is a sort of continuum of images and lines that sound like lyrics we sing while being numb by the inebriating effect of life and the haunting prospect of death... at that point I daren't overthinking "Voice of the Moon" because to be fair, this is a true riddle for ages, and after his nostalgia-loaded "Ginger and Fred" "Intervista" where we could say goodbye to his iconic partners-in-crime Marcelle "Come Here" Mastroianni and Guiletta "Cabiria" Masina, "Voice of the Moon" must be enjoyed like the final spurt of creativity of a humble genius at the twilight of his life who could afford to make a puzzling ode to the night whose dark clouds were starting to overshadow the brightness.
I feel like I'm dodging the analytical aspect, I'm aware that there's a lot to interpret in this film, there are many faces to evoke, there's the scene with French actor Sim as an oboist who enjoys sleeping next to a cemetery, finding inner peace, a sexual scene that is shot like a vertiginous carrousel, all the Fellinian extravaganza is served us on a plate so we can taste it and digest it... but since this is his last film, I enjoyed the contemplating more than the savoring, not trying to find many answers and write a philosophical essay, I'll just say that the film has a beauty and a poetry of its own that's not everyone's cup of tea, maybe some Fellini fans would consider it a lesser film, which it is, as far as reputation and prestige goes, hard to believe the film wasn't even released in the U. S. but maybe Fellini had lost his touch with the public and it's interesting that his last film starred Benigni, the little clown who'd sweep the Oscars a few years later and who was himself a show to watch.
But no need to rumble on these trivia, "Voice of the Moon" is Fellini's epitaph and also a little trick he left us before leaving this world, a few months before Giuletta Masina, leaving our eyes to be dazzled, our feet to tap on the tempo on his catchy melodies.. and our head to scratch naturalmente.
Ciao, Maestro!