Ginger and Fred

“It is entirely possible to fall in love with this film because of its stars and its uniquely lush and compelling vision…When a smarmy young reporter asks ‘Ginger’ if she might not be too old for a return engagement, we see in the chic, mature Massina the beloved waif of the past. Replying with a resilient shrug and a game, upturned smile, she brings to mind, for an instant, her unforgettable street heroines, the waiflike prostitute of Nights of Cabiria and Gelsomina, the innocent clown of La Strada.

“Massina is bewildered by the swirl of activity that immediately engulfs her upon her arrival in Rome. The TV staffers are rude and indifferent to ‘Ginger’ but she tries to be a good sport, even though realizing soon enough that she’s signed up for a sideshow featuring crude celebrity look-alikes, a transvestite with a passion for servicing convicts, a supposedly levitating monk (played by J. H. Lartigue, the great Belle Epoque photographer), a handcuffed Mafioso and even more inane types, most of whom seem to have stepped out of the pages of the National Enquirer.

“‘Fred’ turns out to be something of a shock too. In contrast to ‘Ginger,’ who’s a hard-working businesswoman, he’s a wheezy, boozy, outrageous old rebel, seedy yet ineffably debonair. ‘Ginger’ knows that she’s agreed to do the show not for the sake of her friends or her grandchildren but for a chance to see ‘Fred’ again. Though gallant, he’s not having any hearts-and-flowers guff, however–he just wants to make a buck.

“Yes, we do get to see this ‘Ginger and Fred’ eventually dance–but Fellini milks the big moment for all it’s worth by delaying it with a power-failure blackout on the TV studio’s gaudy neon-and-mirror set. In shimmering white feathered gown and dated blond pageboy wig, Massina is a graceful glider and tapper while Mastroianni is determined but dangerously rickety on his feet. These great star-actors offer a lesson in expressiveness as they toss off a look, a shrug, a gesture, each of them perfect–and all adding up to a gracious acceptance of mortality. And what Mastroianni does with his hands while dancing is so enchantingly witty and graceful that we’re distracted from what his feet can only try to do.

“Once again, Fellini has surrounded himself with such familiar and gifted collaborators as writers Tonino Guerra and Tullio Pinelli, cinematographers Tonino Delli Colli and Ennio Guarnieri, production designer Dante Ferretti, costume designer Danilo Donati and composer Nicola Piovani, whose score is securely in the seductive, romantic tradition of the late Nino Rota. Franco Fabrizi, the star of I Vitelloni (1953), one of Fellini’s finest films, plays the unctuous, peroxided and bespangled television host.” –Los Angeles Times

Part of the series Fellini, July 1-September 25