#0000C/#50: FELLINI, Federico: And The Ship Sails On (1984)

FELLINI, Federico (Italy)
And The Ship Sails On [1983]
Spine #0000C/Spine #50
DVD/Blu-ray


1999 synopsis

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 Cinecittà 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.

2020 synopsis

In this late-career highlight from Federico Fellini, the ringmaster-auteur trades his customary spectacles — the cinema, the circus, and the variety-show stage — for that of the opera, in a quirky, imaginative fable set on the high seas. 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, only to sail into the headwinds of history when they cross paths with a group of Serbian refugees and an Austrian-Hungarian warship. Fabricated entirely in Rome’s famed Cinecittà studios with the help of production designer Dante Ferretti, And the Ship Sails On reaches spectacular new visual heights with its stylized re-creation of a decadent, bygone era.

127 minutes
Color
Monaural
in Italian
1:85:1 aspect ratio
Criterion Release 1999/2020

Director/Writers


Screenplay by Federico Fellini and Tonino Guerra.
Opera texts by Andrea Zanzotto.

And the Ship Sails On has a great deal to do with opera, a subject I would have avoided in my earlier pictures. It was only later in life hat I came to appreciate our Italian operatic tradition. I suppose the reason I said and wrote so much about not liking opera is because every Italian is supposed to love opera, especially every Italian man. My brother, Riccardo, went around the house singing. Love of opera isn’t restricted to Italy, of course, but it’s more widespread here than in America.”

But more than opera itself, Fellini is — as usual — concerned with operatic faces, personalities, and the personages of singers and conductors.

It is July, 1914 — a precise time chosen by Fellini for an important reason. Just weeks earlier, on June 28th, a Bosnian Serb assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, which was the firecracker that set off World War I.

The wealthy passengers have chartered the Gloria N. to travel to the island where the late great diva, Edmea Tetua (Janet Suzman, seen only in silent B&W film clips), was born, and scatter her ashes in the sea.

Among the divas, rivals, tenors and conductors on board are Ildebranda Cuffari (Barbara Jefford); Aureliano Fuciletto (Victor Poletti); Sir Reginald Dongby (Peter Cellier); Teresa Valegnani (Elisa Mainardi); Lady Violet Dongby (Norma West); Maestro Albertini (Paolo Paoloni), and a friendly whore, Dorotea (Sarah Jane Varley).

The most important passenger is the young Grand Duke (Fiorenzo Serra) — presumably a big fan of Tetua’s — and his blind sister, The Princess (played by the great dancer and choreographer, Pina Bausch).

Rounding out the cast is the mysterious Count Bassano (Pasquale Zito).

A silent film gains sound and then color, and the affable Orlando (Freddie Jones) is our tour guide — narrating the tale and introducing us to the characters, looking directly at the camera. The cast is huge and with only one viewing, one will not become so intimately acquainted with them all.

The plot thickens when the captain rescues a group of Serbian refugees. Their dancing and another scene where the singers delight the scruffy men working in the boiler room with some operatic gymnastics are two of the wonderful set pieces.

Oh yes — one more important character — a lovesick rhinoceros. 

Film Rating (0-60):

55

The Extras

The Booklet

#0000C only:

Eighty-four page booklet featuring an essay by David Forgacs.

“It is July 1914, just before the outbreak of the First World War. The famous diva Edmea Tetua has died, and her ashes are to be scattered at sea off the island where she was born. The passengers on the funeral voyage of the Gloria N. are all her former colleagues and admirers, apart from the affable journalist Orlando (Jones), who has been sent to cover the trip and narrates for us, to camera. The film opens as a silent-movie pastiche, complete with emulsion scratches, whirring projector noise, gate jitter, and intertitles. As the passengers arrive on the quay sync sound starts to come in, and they watch the officers carry the funeral urn aboard to the sound of the boatswain’s whistle. The film morphs into color as the diva’s friends and fans sing a rousing opera chorus, joined by the crew and dockworkers. After the ship leaves port, Orlando identifies the main characters for us. As well as singers, conductors, and opera-house directors, they include an Austrian grand duke (Serra), traveling with his retinue and his blind sister, who is played by the dancer and choreographer Pina Bausch. In the hold is a rhinoceros that at one point stinks up the whole ship, to the disgust of the well-heeled passengers, and has to be hoisted up on ropes and hosed down by the crew.”


154-page booklet featuring an introduction by Bilge Ebiri and essays by Michael Almereyda (Primary Sources); Colm Tóibin (Imagined Homes); Carol Morley (Life on Earth); Stephanie Zacharek (Tough Love); and Kogonada (There is No End).

Morley:

“When the upper-class passengers witness the sun and the moon in the sky simultaneously — a phenomenon alluded to as being ‘between light and darkness, fire and ice’ — we are reminded that the ship’s voyagers are also divided, between the haves, the privileged, and the have-nots, the refugee stowaways and the workers. And so from the above-deck world, where ‘every sunset bears the mark of divinity,’ we descend into the enormous underbelly of the ship — where the workers in the fired-up engine room are blackened by coal dust and slicked with sweat — to find a version of hell.”

#50 only:

Six-page wraparound featuring an essay by Fellini.

“I was concerned about having lovely food for the people to eat. It had to be photogenic so it would look enticing on the screen. I wanted food that was fresh and deliciously prepared for inspiring the actors. It was important that it smelled good, and we looked forward to eating it afterwards Maybe everyone did better and there were fewer takes so we could finish before the food got cold.”

#0000C only:

Commentary

None.

Fellini racconta: Diary of a Film

A behind-the-scenes documentary from 1983.

The sole extra, a 51-minute doc about the “making of.” Ever wonder why Fellini refuses to engage with some of the ridiculous questions he gets from journalists. Check out this one:

Interviewer: And the Ship Sails On is a film that can be read on multiple levels. Critics saw it as a metaphor for the journey of life, an allusion to the twilight of a society, an allegory of fears of an atomic catastrophe (!), an argument on art and mass media, a cry of alarm comforted by tenacious hope in the resources of nature. Among all these possible interpretations, which do you find to be the most legitimate, and closest to your artistic intentions?”

Fellini (being as polite as possible): “Is that all? I thought there were many more! Each of them has its own justification. I think a film, a book, a painting; any artistic expression by an artist who has his own vision of the world, and offers it honestly and in good faith — even if dazzled by a dose of the subconscious, or irrationality he may have poured into his work — interpretations are authorized and legitimate.”

And Fellini on television:

“I think cinema has entered an extremely serious crisis. I think the device we are appearing on right now (TV) in viewer’s homes — if they haven’t already switched channels with that other device of theirs (the remote control) has formed and brought up an ocean of impatient, indifferent, distracted and vaguely racist viewers. That little device is an execution squad. It removes your face, takes away your speech, erases you. Watching four films at the same time may appear to be the endeavor of a genius, of someone possessing who knows what superpowers. In truth, it’s nothing more than the inability to pay a little attention to whoever is speaking — the inability to let oneself be seduced and enchanted by a story.”

There’s plenty of exciting content on Netflix and HBO — but no Fellini. Search him out elsewhere …

Extras Rating (0-40):

35

55 + 35 =

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