Critics of the auteur theory, in short, believe that the filmmaking process is inherently so large and spread out over so many people, that to narrow down the entire work to one person’s “vision” is both inaccurate and likely inconsiderate to the dozens upon dozens of people who worked on it. Despite this, however, the theory still holds water, and it does seem that certain directors have recurring themes in their work which leave their films wholly and uniquely “theirs;” Federico Fellini is one such director. Many points could be made towards this argument, such as the frequently autobiographical nature of his films, his tendency to appear in his films, and his incredibly involved role in making his films beyond simply directing. However, perhaps the most important element to discuss is the construction of his films, and how they are frequently very open and often episodic in nature.
Over time, Fellini began to develop this technique; characters would frequently experience long flashbacks or dreams, as in 8 ½, the films would be comprised of self-contained “episodes,” as in La Dolce Vita, or into more cohesive “acts,” as in Nights of Cabiria. As John Coldwell Stubbs puts it, this non-holistic approach helps distinguish him by “pushing against the grain of conventional filmmaking,” an approach dubbed the “open form(1).” However, what makes this approach so distinctly his is how effectively it is implemented; a story told with a disjointed method has all the potential in the world to be incomprehensible, jarring, and pointless. However, when Fellini opens La Dolce Vita by portraying a helicopter carrying a statue of an open-armed Christ over a corrupted and shallow Rome, he is setting the mood for what will follow over the course of the movie, as well as establishing the subtle religious undertones that become more apparent in certain “chapters” of the movie.
In addition, his films’ endings show closure in a unique way to complement the episodic nature of what preceded them. Sometimes this comes via a deliberate triggering of déjà vu; for instance, in Nights of Cabiria, the film ends with Cabiria in exactly the same situation she was in at the beginning of the film. A lover has deceived and robbed her, and virtually left her for dead. However, the theft at the end is far more drastic; Cabiria is left homeless and destitute. In spite of this, however, the film ends with a long shot of Cabiria smiling, a makeshift parade of joyful people around her. The movie could be said to have two episodes, which are virtually identical, except one portrays her attitude before her adventures in the movie, the other one portraying her afterwards. It is this reflection of character development, this simple yet highly effective technique that marks Fellini as truly distinctive.
In short, many of the arguments that are held against the auteur theory seem to fall short when applied to Federico Fellini. Even if one discards the obvious points, such as the blatantly autobiographical story of a filmmaker with writer’s block in 8 ½, Fellini’s style still shines through as being markedly his. Though the auteur theory still demands unfair generalization and the attribution of massive endeavors to one person, in this case it holds more water than most.
(1)Stubbs, John C.. Federico Fellini as Auteur: Seven Aspects of His Films. 1st ed. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2006. Print.
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