Federico Fellini has successfully captured the atmosphere of uncertainty that pervades the youth of small towns. As I watched "I vitelloni", I couldn't help but think of many films, such as "The Boys from Fengkuei", "A Brighter Summer Day", "In the Heat of the Sun" and "Once Upon a Time in America". Despite being at different stages of life, this energy - full of hope yet trapped within its limits, aimless and frustrated, with nowhere to call home - is a common characteristic among all small-town youth, found in every country.
Where does this dilemma come from? Is it due to the need for clearer personal direction? Is it because there's discontent with reality but no idea how to change it? Does repetitive, monotonous living fail to provide more nourishment? Or is it anxiety over one's existence and why it is they who are in it?
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From these different angles, one might comprehend the depths of the playboy's character. When confronted by his pregnant lover, his instinctive response was panic and the urge to flee. From a female viewpoint, it's evident that his behaviour deems him unreliable. However, his reaction stemmed from fear. He feared being trapped before even beginning any pursuit. Though perhaps without constraints, he might not necessarily accomplish anything significant. Therefore, urging a young person to abandon fantasies of freedom can be an immensely painful experience.
It's intriguing how Fellini chose not to burden this character with plot elements corroded by family life, nor did he extinguish their grand ambitions. The sense of ennui that arises from confinement to a restricted space affects people similarly, regardless of their background or capabilities. While a talented individual might directly sacrifice ambition due to this confinement, for someone idle, does this erosion of aspirations feel justified? I'm beginning to sense a pervasive consumption of hope among many.
While watching "I vitelloni," I naturally felt inclined to criticize the protagonist for not being content despite having a beautiful and kind wife. However, as I reflect and write, empathizing with his restlessness, I realize it's not solely about dissatisfaction with his wife but with life itself. He lacks the wisdom to deeply comprehend the root of this discontentment. He struggles to grasp why he's unhappy with a life seemingly enviable to everyone else. Moreover, he doesn't know how to pursue an ambition that hasn't yet materialized. His only outlet for motivation seems to be flirtation and causing trouble, resorting to clumsy and obviously foolish methods, which are, nonetheless, quite typical.
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In the end, he was forgiven by his innocent and beautiful wife, and sincerely promised to live well. The back view of him holding his wife's hand and walking home looks like a happy ending, but does he really start anew from then on? No one knows. But one can imagine how this predicament will continue to exist in him as long as he doesn't have a real direction.
Another aspect I found intriguing was the playwright's role. He embodies yet another facet of small-town youth, doesn't he? He writes silently, pursues aesthetics and art self-consciously, until before his idol appears, he seems like an idle writer among other young people. After his idol recognizes him, he experiences a sense of profound resonance, almost luxuriously so. In a dusty, wind-swept alley, he passionately shares his artistic pursuits with his idol, expressing deep dissatisfaction with the barrenness of the small town. He laments:
This town is blind to art. It's so hard, being perpetually misunderstood. My friends don't even understand me. They only care about material things. They live their sordid lives, thinking of women and money. I feel so alone. And the winter is awful. It's endless in this town. I'm so full of sadness and anguish. At midnight the town goes dark. How can an artist feed his demons? How can he live in this silence?
This powerful monologue serves as a direct expression of the film's central theme. Listening to this heartfelt expression is deeply moving, allowing us to genuinely feel his talent and aspirations. However, the encounter takes an unexpected turn. He flees.
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If he goes with the old man to the seaside, will he lose something but also gain some opportunities? And after he escapes, will he continue to hold this fantasy, continue to create, and look for another chance to go out? We don't know either. This is a choice in life. You can feel like he almost grasped the light at that moment, but sadly, like most people in this world, he doesn't have many choices and courage for himself. Many times you don't even know if it's really an opportunity or not, but what can you do? In the end, the person who has been silent all along is the only one who leaves. It's accidental, but not unexpected.
Is this portrayal a reflection of the director's own perspective? Throughout, he assumes the role of an observer, actively engaged yet somehow distanced. This portrayal shares similarities with the male protagonist in "La Dolce Vita," always maintaining a sense of detachment. He seems present and absent at the same time, quietly observing and internalizing everything. His pain or desires remain concealed, and he stands apart from his companions, wandering alone at night and faithfully awaiting the same railway worker. But why? Perhaps even he isn't sure. Nevertheless, in the end, he's the only one who boards that train. It's possible he observed all the potential paths he didn't desire reflected in others—improbable paths he couldn't reconcile with. Uncertain of where his true place lies, one thing is clear: it isn't here.
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The train passes by, and it becomes surreal. The lights pass by the windows of sleeping townspeople in a beautiful yet sorrowful way. No one is there to send him off, and in that moment, I suddenly feel like he represents a symbol instead of leaving his companions behind. He is the light in the hearts of all the remaining youth, so to speak. He walks out with the train's thundering sound, embracing an unknown future. What a bright ending.
These stories unfold repeatedly in countless small towns worldwide, transcending nationality or era. Even young people who are struggling with their current situation can experience similar feelings, even if they don't live in a small town. It's difficult to understand why we exist. However, I hope everyone can contemplate that moment when a train rumbles past a slumbering small town. It signifies an encouraging luxury of hope—a courage that forges ahead without hesitation and a profoundly significant beacon of light.
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