A film that resembles an old-school Italian Barolo. To a beginner, it seems difficult to approach, maybe even too slow. And you have to read—the subtitles. But gradually, you begin to understand. As the tannins relinquish their tight grasp, each precious layer of flavor is revealed one after another. In time, you are entranced and no longer aware you’re watching a movie. The fleeting hints of various spices and memories pass through you as it becomes more and more difficult to distinguish what is real and what is imagined. The surreal and sublime are delivered through perfection of black and white. And then there’s the gentle, periodic breeze that dries the bead of sweat from your brow. When Fellini gives us moments of silence upon silence. Thoughts of plot structure, balance and new French oak give way to a more detached sense of wonder and appreciation. Analysis gives way to acceptance and bliss may be approached. I beg you to go rent this movie before you do anything else. It’s at least as good as one of those salt-water meditation tanks, if they even have those anymore.

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