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And the Ship sails On (The Criterion Collection) by Federico Fellini
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DVD detailsActor: Barbara Jefford, Elisa Mainardi, Freddie Jones, Peter Cellier, Victor Poletti Director: Federico Fellini Brand: FELLINI,FEDERICO Cinematographer: Giuseppe Rotunno Writer: Federico Fellini Editor: Ruggero Mastroianni Producer: Aldo Nemni Producer: Franco Cristaldi Producer: Renzo Rossellini Writer: Tonino Guerra DVD: Region Code 0 Audio: English (Unknown); English (Subtitled); Italian (Original Language), Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono Format: Color, DVD, Letterboxed, NTSC, Subtitled, Widescreen Picture Format: 1.85:1 Running Time: 128 minutes DVD Release Date: 1999-09-14 Audience Rating: PG (Parental Guidance Suggested) Studio: Criterion
DVD Reviews of And the Ship sails On (The Criterion Collection)DVD Review: Glimmering Plastic Ocean--Fake Sunset--Great Music Summary: 4 Stars
This film opens like a photograph that is gradually developing; first, after the opening credits, as a sepia-colored silent film, with only the sound of a running projector; at 3 minutes 45 seconds, one hears the "all aboard signal"; at 5:10, melancholy piano music starts, accompanying the carriage containing the ashes of the diva; at 6:45, the first lines are spoken, at first as a voiceover; by 7:30, the film has switched to color; at 8:15, the cast starts singing; and at 8:55, the cast boards the ship singing. There are various instances of inter-class discomfort brought up in this picture, for example (1) the boiler room scene (Chapter 17), in which the workers stoking the fires request that the aristocratic singers (who are perched high above the workers, as if these divos/divas were Olympians) perform for them. And those divos/divas, being competitors as well as performers, turn this moment into a contest; an opportunity to show off--in this film, Fellini treats "the opera world" with respect, and also satirizes its pretentiousness. (2) The presence of the Serbian/gypsy refugees on the ship introduces class conflict as well. "And The Ship Sails On" features many well-drawn characters: the blind woman-"Principessa" sister of the Austrian Grand Duke of Herzog, who "sees color" when she hears music; a nymphomaniac who's in hog heaven when she's among the Serbians and their pagan dance; the 2 old men/musicians, one of whom may be a pederast; the lovable Serbian terrorist; the eccentric, romantic, worshipper of the dead diva who's caught up in the drama of his own mourning; and as another Amazon reviewer mentioned, the living diva who's jealous of the one who's deceased--and still getting a lot of attention. There are callbacks to previous Fellinian leitmotifs: the seance (Chapter 25) recalls the seance of "Juliet of the Spirits"; and as always, there is the sound of that particular, Felliniesque wind.
What inspires me above all in this film is the music, particularly the aria(s) that were being sung as the Serbians, and later the Italian women and children, are being lowered into the boats near the end of the film; this (Chapter 35) is a brilliant scene and my favorite in the picture. I'm always willing to suspend disbelief with Fellini, it makes no difference to me that the conductor conducts the singers without an orchestra; that there is another plastic ocean (as there was in Casanova); or a fake sunset. It is also worth noting that Fellini uses well-known pieces of music in "And The Ship Sails On"; -IE- Tschaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy"; Debussy's "Clair de Lune"; Richard Strauss. Yet in each instance, the music works appropriately to heighten the effect of the respective scene. I can see how this picture could have influenced the style of Woody Allen; there is a similar atmosphere of nostalgia here that Allen also started to make use of in the 1980s. "And The Ship Sails On" is a late-phase Fellini capolavoro, and I think his final great film. It could have ended in the manner of "Titanic", but Fellini chose instead to keep it light.
Three minor criticisms: (1) Freddie Jones as the narrator à la Amarcord; frankly I could have done without this narration; (2) Near the end of the film, Fellini chose to show the actual filming, on set at Cinecitta; for me that destroys the fantasy--what was the purpose of the momentary interjection of reality? (3) The rhinoceros is interesting as a kind of out of context, absurdist prop. But it looks like an exile from Satyricon. On the other hand, I wonder about larger purpose of the rhinoceros as a metaphor--is Fellini himself the rhinoceros--he who survives, he who is also "maternal", lovesick--and sexually ambiguous? Could Fellini only truly express love via his films? Just a hypothesis
Stephen C. Bird, author of "Hideous Exuberance: A Satire"
More And the Ship sails On (The Criterion Collection) reviews: 1 2 3
Description of And the Ship sails On (The Criterion Collection)In Fellini's quirky, imaginative fable, a motley crew of European aristocrats (and a lovesick rhinoceros!) board a luxurious ocean liner on the eve of World War I to scatter the ashes of a beloved diva. Fabricated entirely in Rome's famed Cinecittą studios, And the Ship Sails On (E la nave va) reaches spectacular new visual heights with its stylized re-creation of a decadent bygone era. Criterion is proud to present this rarely-seen gem in an exclusive widescreen transfer with new English subtitles. Federico Fellini's 1984 And the Ship Sails On is one of the late master's most fanciful projects, while simultaneously striking one of the most somber notes in the director's filmography. The year is 1914, the eve of World War I and the coming destruction of Europe's old, cultured aristocracy, an elite class mourned in many a film from Renoir's The Grand Illusion to Truffaut's The Green Room. A luxury liner sets sail from Italy, full of artists, a royal entourage, and one rhinoceros. The point of the voyage is to scatter the ashes of a world-famous diva, but the exotic passengers--blithely unaware of the imminent conflict--have many, more private intrigues going on behind closed doors. Still, it is the self-containment and formality of these travelers, at once absurd and moving, that sticks with the viewer: the way the many singers, musicians, and conductors (and one plump archduke) seem aware, in public, of embodying a privileged history. Fellini films all the action aboard an impressively lush and blatantly artificial set, with a painted sky, paper moon, and cellophane sea, all underscoring the dreamy, precious nature of this adventure. The camera itself becomes a kind of character via a determined journalist (Freddie Jones) who speaks to us directly, drawing the film into vaguely obscene disruptions of an otherwise serene formalism. --Tom Keogh
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