The Voice of the Moon is one of Fellini's later films and while it doesn't display the same shameless misogyny as City of Women, his overhyped flick from ten years earlier, it becomes annoyingly weird right in the middle just like it.
Thus far Nights of Cabiria from way back in 1957 is the only film I've viewed that seems worthy of his praise as a genius. It's frankly the only Fellini film I've seen that's entirely coherent and serves some kind of greater social purpose than his own navel gazing self-absorption.
Don't get me wrong, the first 30-40 minutes of this movie are whimsical and sweet - with some random philosophy interjected without warning here and there - but after a certain point it's just a bunch of schizophrenic nonsense...which I guess it supposed to be reflection of the mind of the main character, an escaped or recently released mental patient.
Thus far Nights of Cabiria from way back in 1957 is the only film I've viewed that seems worthy of his praise as a genius. It's frankly the only Fellini film I've seen that's entirely coherent and serves some kind of greater social purpose than his own navel gazing self-absorption.
Don't get me wrong, the first 30-40 minutes of this movie are whimsical and sweet - with some random philosophy interjected without warning here and there - but after a certain point it's just a bunch of schizophrenic nonsense...which I guess it supposed to be reflection of the mind of the main character, an escaped or recently released mental patient.