La Dolce Vita: as we accompany Marcello Mastroianni through Rome, in Federico Fellini’s gem of a film, the episodes are largely disconnected, for the most part. The common thread in all of them is that there is sweetness, poetry and beauty in that sort of life (which shows up in the words, in the clothes, in the faces, in the city itself), but above all that, there is an overpowering emptiness and melancholy that deny the very idea of the dolce far niente. There is also an underlying criticism of a couple of aspects of that society, something that resonates more and more in present days. The film is pure elegance, from Otello Martelli’s camerawork (beautiful light, memorable composition) to Nino Rota’s magical musical score, passing by the costumes and locations. Mastroianni is smooth as silk (until, tragically, he isn’t anymore); Anouk Aimée, distant and enticing; Anita Ekberg is beautiful (also, one of the most indelible cinema images) and perfect as the embodiment of a movie star.