Millions of words have already been written about Fellini’s 8 1/2. Some dissect the plot, some interpret the imagery frame by frame, and others laud it as the finest film about making a film ever made. It feels a little presumptuous to assume I can add anything more to a film so tirelessly praised and appreciated by critics and film lovers alike. 8 1/2 is intensely literal, from the opening sequence of a man trapped in a car to the final scene of hundreds of people joining hands and dancing into the darkness together. For all the artistic trappings, it is a film about the difficulty Federico Fellini had in making a movie. Fellini’s on-screen counterpart, Marcello Mastroianni, is never more winning than as a director, Guido, who finds himself thinking deeply of the past as he attempts to finish his film. Women play an integral role: the whore, the mother, the wife, the girlfriend, all taking turns standing in for one another in different periods of Guido’s life. Our own Eric D. Snider has given the film a more than competent work-down, and for a full review of the virtues and vices, I shall direct you there.

The Blu-ray transfer is flawless; gone are the nearly imperceptible specks on screen, instead we are left with a crisp, clear image that posits no distractions. For a black-and-white film, the blacks are dark and rich, the whites are not glaring or distracting at all, and it’s clear that the the upgrade to 1080p has served the images well. The audio is remastered monaural Italian with optional English subtitles. With a story that contains as many characters as 8 1/2, every small effort toward clarity is greatly appreciated, and Criterion has done a spectacular job of doing the best they could with the materials available.

Disappointingly, the special features remain largely unchanged from the original Criterion DVD release, though there is one new addition: included on the Blu-ray edition is a special new feature that delves into an alternate final sequence, which takes place on a train, that was filmed but not included in the final cut. It’s hard to imagine 8 1/2 without the iconic final moments, but still incredibly interesting to consider the possibilities. An introduction to the film from director Terry Gilliam is included, as well as several hours of excellent extras. First up is an hour-long, vaguely incomprehensible documentary made by Fellini himself (“Fellini: A Director’s Notebook”) about his films and ideas. The documentary meanders; we are taken to locations and talk to actors and actresses all in a dream-like haze. When a director is as accomplished as Fellini, there is a great deal of interest in his process, into the very mechanics of directing. The audio commentary offers insight from critic Gideon Bachmann as well as NYU professor Antonio Monda, and is a useful guide through the film’s multitude of characters and the parallels to be found in Fellini’s own life. Next is a nearly hour-long documentary, “Nino Rota: Between Cinema and Concert,” about Fellini’s longtime collaborator and composer. Here we are given an overview of his life and work, as well as special insight into his composition for 8 1/2. Several more interviews follow, including a vaguely unsettling one with Sandra Milo, who plays Carla in the film and was Fellini’s mistress of more than 17 years. Milo seems eager to divulge a myriad of intimate information, and unsurprisingly seems very similar to the happy-go-lucky character she portrayed in the film. A conversation with assistant director Lina Wertmüller is up next, followed by one with cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, each carefully compiled and filled with interesting tidbits that give insight into the mind of Fellini himself. Each interviewee seems eager to talk about the man who was a longtime friend, and while any hard-core fan will find plenty to investigate here, anyone with a passing interest in seeing the film will find the audio commentary and essays particularly illuminating. The case and 30-page booklet are beautiful, all black-and-white stylized images from the film itself. The essays are formatted slightly differently from the standard Criterion format of one lengthy essay that covers all points. Instead we are given several different shorter ones, some written by critics Tullio Kezich and Alexander Sesonske, and two written by Fellini himself that poetically delve into his depression at being unable to work creatively any longer after pouring out film after film, and his inspiration to make 8 1/2, a film with itself as its subject and all actors portraying someone else on set. Photographic stills and a trailer round out the release.

If you’ve waited for a sign from the heavens that it is time to own 8 1/2, this is it. The Blu-ray edition is as full and replete a release that anyone is likely to put forth, and though the film is mysterious and almost mythical in nature, the special features celebrate and explain Federico Fellini in his own words, through the eyes of others who knew him well, and through that penultimate medium as an artist — the work itself.

8 1/2 is available from Criterion on January 11, 2010.

Tags: 8 1/2, blu-ray reviews, criterion collection