City Of Women – Review

8th March 2013

*Spoliers ahoy*

Federico Fellini is a name synonymous with lyrical, almost ethereal film making. La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2 and Amacord (to name but a few classics) delved deep into everything from politics to sexuality to psychology, sometimes wrapped up in a demented bow, specifically Satyricon. Throughout the 1960s & 70s each film seemed to be as masterful as the last and because of this he rightly remains one of cinemas great auteurs.

So how would Fellini fare as he headed into that tricky artistic decade we call the 1980’s. Don’t misunderstand me some amazing films came out in the 80s but it was also a decade where the established masters seemed to struggle with changing trends, although I might be thinking more about music here – Neil Young and Bowie spring to mind. In 1980 Fellini dropped City of Women on the world (sorry that sounded terribly ‘street’ of me). Re-teaming with his 8 1/2 male-muse Marcello Mastroianni, City of Women plays like a dreamlike road trip about a man who finds himself in increasingly bizarre situations after being lured off his train by an attractive woman. Along the way Snaporaz (Mastiroianni) gate crashes a feminists retreat, where the speakers engage in pantomine depictions of the house wife’s life, heated debates about sex acts and UN-like discussions of women’s role in society. Finding his way out he is then nearly raped by a buxom woman in green house before being taken on a wild joy ride by drug taking teenagers. Eventually he ends up at the mansion of Dr. Xavier Katzone, Snaporaz marvels at the sexual imagery adorning the walls and ends up staying for a party which his ex-wife seems to be attending. The party is broken up by an all-female police squadron led by his attempted-rapist. After trying to woo two half naked women with a Fred Astaire style dance he ends up in bed with his ex. Crawling under his bed to escape her he finds himself on a giant fair-ground slide. As he slides down he reminisces about all the women he has been infatuated with since childhood. He suddenly finds himself on trial for his crimes against women, he climbs a ladder up to a hot air balloon and then wakes up on the train from the films opening to discover that the entire film has been a dream. This sounds more bat-shit crazy when I typed it out than it seemed watching it.

I must confess that before watching it I wasn’t aware of City of Women’s existence in the Fellini canon. It’s easy to see why it seems to have been marginalized. Fellini has been prone to bawdy humour and a bit of smut here and there but City of Women plays like an out-and-out sex-farce. Who doesn’t love a sex-farce? They’re always the highest caliber of entertainment. Mastiroianni does away with his uber-chic image that he was so iconic for in favour of playing a pathetically sex-hungry lech. It’s very likely that this role reversal on Mastiroianni and Fellini’s part is deliberate, by subverting his Casanova like image that they are putting the women on upper footing but it makes Benny Hill look suitable in comparison.

It’s a tricky proposition to decide whether Fellini is attempting to further empower women with City of Women or mock extremist feminist attitudes. The opening act set in the hotel where a feminist convention is taking place presents the entire event as some deranged vaudeville show. Women quibble over the tiniest difference of what it is to be truly feminist, all at the top of their longs and seemingly mentally unbalanced. It’s quite clear that Fellini is mocking the militant, extremist side of the argument but it’s harder to decipher whether he agrees with the concept of feminism at all. It’s clear from his body of work that he loves women but does he respect them? The film is a gallery of untrustworthy, dominant women who seem to lead our “hero” down the garden path at every turn. He is a fool and they are, put simply… crazy. It’s not the most compelling group of characters ever assembled for a film.

Thanks to the films road-trip style storytelling and extended dream, within dream sequence the film never seems to fully mesh together. The film feels like a series of short films loosely tied together by a saucy man in a suit trying to either catch a train or get his leg over (Takeshi Kitano did this a lot funnier and sillier with Getting Any? fifteen years later). At nearly two hours twenty it’s hard to stay engaged for the whole time. Of course as it’s a Fellini film the photography and the colours look incredible. But the production design at times looks downright cheap. Which is odd because you tell a fair amount of money most have gone into sets and locations – but they just look bad. A particular moment sticks in my mind of a ginormous arse belonging to one of Snaporaz’s conquests – rendered in paper-mache and painted bright pink it looks like it was made by primary school kids. Yes the film is ultimately a dream but dreams don’t have to come from Poundland. But my main issue with City of Women is the “comedy” both slapstick and absurdest, either way it doesn’t work. Visual metaphors or trains going into tunnels to women who can telepathically suck coins into their vagina’s it’s just odd, dull and at times creepy. In it’s slight defense City of Women is a film that could be more succinctly dissected. A wealth of discussion could be had from role reversal, regret and shame and how our subconscious dream state brings these to the front. But to be honest I can’t be bothered because I’m not wasting my time on what was ultimately a sucky, sucky film. Yes technical critiquing here. Go watch Satyricon.

Facebook

Google

Twitter

We hope you're enjoying BRWC. You should check us out on our social channels, subscribe to our newsletter, and tell your friends. BRWC is short for battleroyalewithcheese.