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Breaking away from
the mentorship of Roberto Rossellini, Federico
Fellini charts his own unique course away from
decidedly neo-realistic dramas to craft a romantic
comedy for his 1952 solo directorial debut, The
White Sheik (Lo Sceicco Bianco).
That in itself is enough reason to check this film
out--a "bad" Fellini
film is superior to 90% of the summer glut of formula
schlock, and this entertaining film is much better
than that.
Fellini deliberately
set out to make a commercially viable film based on
the Italian fumetti, which were a popular adult
comic strip using photographs instead of cartoons.
Despite making a short on the genre, Antonioni declined
to make a feature film, so Fellini sought producers
with his scripted idea, finally getting Luigi Rovere
to give him a chance. Rovere had likedFellini's
work in Variety Lights (1950), but never
backed another Fellini project after The White
Sheik initially flopped at the box office
and with the critics. Ironically, this is about the
only film Rovere ever produced that continues to have
shelf life.
Once again The Criterion Collection delivers an outstanding
presentation of a landmark film. Naturally preserved
from the finest available stock, the special features
are highlighted with wonderful recent interviews with
a few surviving cast and crew, who detail the unique
way they were selected for the project and the charming
way the young Fellini
worked with his actors, and exuded confidence that
he knew what he was doing. Indeed, Fellini
felt that he could direct a whole film on his own
after his Variety Lights experience,
but he hid his fears from his crew (as he reveals
to Charlotte Chandler):
"I couldn't let them know that I didn't
believe in myself. I had to be the leader--infallible,
or nearly infallible--so they would put themselves
into my hands. It would not be good for The
White Sheik for people in it to feel they
were supposed to have confidence in someone who
didn't have confidence in himself. I couldn't share
my self-doubts with anyone, even Giulietta"
Perhaps the person most affected by this film is Leopoldo
Trieste, who is cast as the male lead--the nebbish
husband Ivan Cavalli. Fancying himself a writer, Trieste
would frequent a Rome café daily and was challenged
by Fellini
to consider the part. His informal audition had Fellini
rolling on the floor, and the fledgling actor would
go on to star in 103 more films. In the same vein
as Gene Wilder, Trieste cannot help but come across
as a comic character--his rolling eyes and dour expression
supply natural humor to his straight-laced intellectual
background. Perhaps his inner character automatically
communicates the irony, as he reveals that he had
studied the classics and learned multiple languages
primarily to attract women. Always the artful human
psychologist, Fellini
used this to convince Trieste to put aside his writing
and take on the acting part--after all, the actors
are the ones that get all the women!
The cartoon-like story is easy to follow. Ivan and
his new bride Wanda (Brunella Bovo) take the train
to Rome for their honeymoon. Wanda has never been
to the Eternal City, but Ivan wants her to meet his
relatives there and plans a detailed itinerary sure
to exhaust the newlyweds, including a papal visit
for a marriage blessing. Ivan is a good man, well
off financially and a solid citizen but certainly
is far from romantically dashing. Although Wanda respects
her husband, she has stars in her eyes--specifically
for matinee idol in the Rudolph Valentino mode, The
White Sheik (Alberto Sordi). Wanda has sent three
fan letters to her fantasy movie idol, receiving a
form letter back that invites her to visit whenever
she got to Rome. Taking the letter seriously, Wanda
sneaks off to meet the film star and complications
ensue.
Such a story would hardly make a blip on the cinematic
universe were it not for the wonderful character portrayals
and the fact that Fellini's
distinctive touch can be clearly traced in this project.
Known for his collaborative improvisational work,
Fellini gets
some great performances from novice actors Trieste
and Bovo, and veteran Sordi absolutely nails his stylized
take on Valentino, as well as showing a proper sheepishness
when confronted by his screen wife. I'm hard pressed
to think of any director that gets his actors to express
as much through their eyes--both Trieste and Bovo
produce comic and sympathetic responses with their
wide-eyed expressions. Yet it's another "bug-eyed"
supporting actress that practically steals the film
with her entrance--Fellini's
wife, Giulietta Masina, as the sprightly Cabiria.
Attempting to cheer up the distraught abandoned husband
in a piazza, Cabiria personifies a prostitute with
a heart of gold. So striking is her warm and engaging
personality that Fellini
later gives this character fuller development in The
Nights of Cabiria (among Fellini's
best).
Relying less on dialogue than most previous films,
Fellini stands
alongside Hitchcock and Buñuel on using camera movement
and visual pantomime to transform the written script
into lively interactions. Trieste tells a typical
Fellini story--how
he changed his mind about the scene where the beleaguered
husband finally encounters his wayward wife. Fellini
threw out the scripted dialogue and has both of them
perform a series of mournful moans, effectively turning
an ordinary scene into a memorable moment. No one
will argue that The White Sheik belongs
in the pantheon of Fellini's
finest works, but his solo debut remains an entertaining
comedy that movie buffs simply must see. Since it
marks the first collaboration with music composer
Nino Roto, this comedy becomes an instant Fellini
classic from the very first credit!
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