Introduction I first encountered Fellini's film imagery at an age far younger than the MPAA ratings board would

likely approve. Flipping past WTTW, the Chicago PBS affiliate, my eye and imagination were captured by an unexpected parade of bizarre images and characters (and scantily-clad women). Young girls chained to flying beds, a kindly eccentric in a flying machine, phantoms slipping in and out of the periphery these were the images that caught my attention and stayed with me into adulthood. I took note of the film's title then Juliet of the Spirits. In later years, I would view Juliet again and go on to discover 8-1/2. Again, the imagery took root in memory, even while details of plots and themes faded away. In viewing these and others of Fellini's films today, I am still struck by the images some wildly imaginative, others richly textured, many presenting blurred juxtapositions of memory, fantasy and reality. Yet the images now strike a deeper chord... the images and the sometimes extreme characters who populate them seem to resonate with unexpected familiarity. Fellini builds these intentionally twodimensional characters into archetypal figures, playing to my (often suppressed) personal memories, fantasies and biases. To explore this further, I will examine Fellini's archetypes in five films La Dolce Vita, 8-1/2, Juliet of the Spirits, La Strada and City of Women. Certain figures and images recur in many of these films, as Fellini repeatedly explores the roles and interrelationships between men and women, husbands and wives, parents and children. Select one of the archetypes in the image below for additional discussion.

Fellini presents two sides of the same coin with some of his archetypal male figures. He shows men's idealized self-stereotype strong, virile, masterful while other images portray men as prisoners of their own sex roles. His idealized, male-fantasy image of Man as Master, Dominator of Women and King of his Domain is perhaps best represented in the 8-1/2 harem sequence. Here, Fellini's alter ego Marcello imagines himself as absolute master of all of the women he has ever desired, real or imagined. The absurdity of Marcello's fantasy brought me laughter, but as with all effective humor, his joke touched a grain of truth. In the dark recesses, away from the politically-correct facade, the sincere sensitivity of the intellect, lies the same old primal, sex-driven id longing to even the score for a lifetime of perceived rejections and maternal domination. The connection is brought even closer to home by Marcello's mild manner and largely 'enlightened' attitude toward women in his waking life. City of Women's Dr. Xavier Zupercock is the early 80s version of Marcello's 50s-era harem master. While his fantasy-ideal masculinity is now besieged by women's increasing independence, Dr. Xavier wearily continues to hold out as master of his castle and as the suave, virile (but aging) conqueror of women. While the symbolism here was clear, it did not connect with the same effectiveness as Marcello's harem. Dr. Xavier's overt sexual prowess and the reliance on external virile trappings (guns, trophies of sexual conquest, etc.) did not play as well for me as Marcello's mind games. On the flip side, Zampano from La Strada is portrayed as a prisoner of the male stereotype. Strong and silent, virile and dominating, he can break chains with his chest muscles and exert his will over his woman. Yet, these 'virtues' doom him with an inability to communicate or even understand his feelings. The most powerful image for me here was a verbal one, rather than visual. The clown sympathetically compared Zampano with a dog wanting to speak his love for his master, but by his nature, his feelings come out only as barks. Zampano's predicament speaks to society's stereotyping of young males boys don't cry, boys are tough, boys act rather than talk. Here again, Fellini effectively touches upon an almost-universal male experience one that I share and struggle against every day.

Fellini's women play many roles, with most characters seeming to fill a niche in the male protagonist's life scheme and specific neediness. Prominent among these is the primal sex object and/or the available whore. In several instances, he looks back with some fondness on his earliest sexual experiences as a preadolescent. In 8-1/2, young Marcello's encounter with the grotesque Saraghina is filled with excitement, child-like delight mixed with cruelty, wonder, trepidation, fear and ultimately guilt. Again, Fellini faithfully recalls a seemingly universal male experience with awakening sexuality. Little Marcello and his friends don't seem to really understand why they should be excited, but they are. Saraghina's crude, raw sexuality and the boys' response are portrayed with crosscuts between her suggestive gyrations and their initial unmoving shock and subsequent joyful leaping. Invited to closer contact, he responds with alternating approach and avoidance, ended by the inevitable peer pressure as the other boys push him forward. To top it off, Fellini portrays one of the worst possible childhood fates being caught red-handed by adults. In City of Women, he recalls a similar early experience, this time with a loving, maternal figure (a nanny or maid). Young Marcello reacts to her affection with what is for him a confusing mix of sexual excitement and returned affection. His eyes (and the camera movement, shooting from a low, child's perspective) are drawn to her exposed cleavage and her open skirt above his head as he crawls beneath her, mixed with cuts to her strong arms, full figure, her continuing maternal household duties and her unconditional maternal embrace. With this brief montage, Fellini effectively sums the emotions and sensations that were passing through young Marcello (and young Fellini?) during this early relationship. Maddelena, in La Dolce Vita, has a more complex relationship with the adult Marcello. She is a much more complex character than most of Fellini's mix. Her behavior and words could fall into a Madonna/Whore category, particularly in the final villa scene in which she confesses her mixed impulses between fidelity and sexuality. The imagery, at right, adds to the ironic churchlike atmosphere as she 'confesses' her feelings and 'sins' to Marcello. However, her role, again unlike most of the others, defies easy description. She is also a friend and confidant, unlike any other of the male protagonists' sex partners in these films. In some ways, she almost seems a female mirror of Marcello's character somewhat bewildered, ambivalent, torn by conflicting impulses, trying to do the right thing, ultimately unfaithful. Her character is the most sympathetic and appealing of the women he characterizes in any of these films. She is worthy of respect, yet she remains accessible and human. She is needy, but her expectations seem to be atuned to Marcello's capacity to give. If this relationship is as autobiographical as most of Fellini's work, then his relationship with her was clearly unique.

Fellini's wife recurs in each of these films (counting Gelsomina effectively playing that role in La Strada). Fellini depicts the wife playing the multiple roles that he needs of her, as well as those that he would rather not see. These include nurturer and housekeeper (i.e. mother substitute), demanding and needy creature, partner in a failing relationship, at times the wife even plays the role of a complete human being with a life of her own (primarily inJuliet). Particularly in 8-1/2 and La Dolce Vita, he strongly casts the wife in the role of mother substitute. Note the suckling posture in the top image at right, as Marcello in effect finds comfort at his wife/mother's breast after a period of stress and conflict. Expectations for the mothering role also extends to maintaining the household, as shown in the second image, with the wife/mother selflessly cleaning house in Marcello's 8-1/2 harem fantasy. In this image, her mundane tasks are put in a glorious light reflecting many children's misperceptions (or unfair expections) of a mother's attitude toward housework. A mother's role also includes a mix of love for and authority over the children, and like most children, Marcello finds the former indispensible while the latter, intolerable. This is illustrated best in Marcello's final argument with Emma, where he alternates between leaving her and returning, breaking the bonds and finally returning to her bosom. In all of the films, the husband and wife invariably have difficulty communicating or understanding each other's needs and expectations. The third image, from City of Women, visually communicates this problem with multiple barriers physical (column and doorway), spatial (opposite ends of a wide screen image) and social (crowd with turned backs). Julieta is the most whole representation of the wife, playing all of the above roles along with that of a complete person with an interior life and multifaceted personality. Fellini made this clear from the outset, with his play of mirrors and reflections within reflections. With these images, he simultaneously communicated her many-sidedness, her internal confusion and her selfdeception.