I’m a huge fan of Federico Fellini‘s 8 1/2, in fact I’d count it among my favorite films of all-time. I’m also a huge fan of Woody Allen‘s work and for these two reasons alone I felt it was about time I watched Allen’s Stardust Memories, which is about as close to a satisfying remake of Fellini’s classic as you’re likely to get. Though I vastly prefer Fellini’s film and found Stardust to be a little too overbearing, I found great joy in the visuals and Allen’s embracing of that certain “something” that makes Fellini’s movie so “cool”, for lack of a better word, and inviting.
Allen took Fellini’s film and made it his own, which is to say it’s filled with paranoia and Allen’s signature skittishness. I considered just compiling a series of stills from the film, but instead opted for only two along with a couple of quick clips that particularly stuck out.
The two pictures you see (above and below) adorn the wall of Allen’s character Sandy Bates, a director caught between moving from the comedies his audience adores to the more serious dramas he wants to make. Clearly the images speak for themselves.
The pictures change throughout the film, such as the above iconic image from Vietnam of General Loan executing Nguyen Van Lem in the streets of Saigon and the image below of Groucho Marx with Sandy in the foreground, arms wide open almost pleading for Groucho’s help.
For a film that never settles on any specific linear storytelling the pictures are a fantastic touch of surrealism.
Secondly I wanted to point out Charlotte Rampling‘s performance as Dorrie, one of the women in Sandy’s life. Below is a singular monologue from Rampling and it isn’t in the least bit necessary to see the film to feel its power. In fact, it’s a scene that could be presented on its own, entered as a live-action short film and probably compete for an Oscar.
The second features the final minutes of the movie, but what I want to bring attention to is the long take of Rampling as she thumbs through a magazine, Sandy’s voice over accompanies the image along with Louis Armstrong on the record player. It’s a moment where Sandy finds perfection in simplicity and Allen stays on the image of Dorrie for 20 seconds straight, cuts back to Sandy, then again back to Dorrie for nearly 70 seconds without a cut.
I like the intimacy you feel. Not many films give you that sense of “Should I be seeing this?”, as if you’ve walked in on someone else’s life. At first there’s a slight level of discomfort, then Dorrie smiles and we’re set at ease. When it cuts back to Sandy it’s a brief moment of reprieve, we gather ourselves and it cuts back to Dorrie and the audience begins to feel exactly what Sandy is feeling at that moment, soaking in the beauty and the sounds. Fantastic.
