Ringmaster and Clown: Federico Fellini (1920-1993)

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Early or late, prime or decadent, these films are unmistakably those of an Italian male of the late 20th century. Italian, yes, but also universal. No European filmmaker has been imitated so flatteringly on Broadway (Cabiria and 8 1/2 both found their way to the musical stage) and in Hollywood (Paul Mazursky, Bob Fosse and Woody Allen have all done their own confessional glosses on 8 1/2). Male, yes, but with a stethoscope auditing the heart of a woman. La Strada, Cabiria, Juliet and Ginger and Fred (1983) are four sympathetic diagnoses of vital women used by weak men. They are also, of course, dynamic showcases for the talents of Giulietta Masina, who for 49 years was Signora Fellini. In his films she was the average, put-upon feminine spirit, just as Marcello Mastroianni was the gallantly anguished soul of modern man.

Where can these warring sexes find equality and transcendence? Only on the stage, or at the circus, or in the movies -- in the gaudy popular arts from which Fellini's gaudy, sophisticated art emerged. A girl might dance with her cartoon hero made flesh; stokers on a great ship might feel a little better hearing the friendly competition of high notes from opera stars many decks above them. And for Guido in 8 1/2, it is the knowledge that on celluloid he can do anything: reunite lovers, reconcile families, turn dream into drama and * lead all life's players in a dance around the center ring. Who else has such sorcerer's power? And who, besides Fellini, used that power with such wondrous recklessness?