One of the most significant, as
well as most memorable, figures in Federico Fellini’s 1963 film 8 ½ remains that of La Saraghina. La
Saraghina, an enigmatic yet strangely compelling character, ushers the younger
version of the protagonist Guido into the world of adult sexuality. This proves
to have lasting consequences on Guido’s psyche, and informs much of what the
man does, thinks, and feels in the rest of the film. 8 ½ ‘s “narrative”, non-linear and often allegorical, nevertheless
present numerous conflicts that exist within Guido’s head; these conflicts,
psychological and psychospiritual, form the spine of the film, providing the
necessary dramatic thrust as Guido attempts to reconcile the apparently contradictory
and warring aspects of his personality: in particular, the clash between his
sexuality and his religious upbringing. The boy Guido’s encounter with
Saraghina lies at the heart of this conflict.
The portion of the
film dealing directly with La Saraghina begins with the adult Guido, a motion
picture director, meeting with a high-ranking Catholic church official, hoping,
it seems, to procure the blessing of the Vatican for his new film. During
his discussion with the clergyman, which takes place outdoors, Guido spies a
woman walking along with the hem of her skirt lifted up, presumably to prevent
her from getting it dirty. The woman’s exposed legs – large, fleshy,
unphotogenic—foreshadow the appearance of Saraghina. When seeing this, Guido
slides the glasses off of his face.
Throughout the
film, Guido’s wearing of eyeglasses symbolizes the layer of distance he wishes
to keep from the rest of the world. Guido tries to understand the world in the
same way a director acts on a movie set. He wishes to observe empirically, to
watch, not acknowledging the deep effect that the elements of his life –
people, memories –have on him. He
attempts to remove himself from his life, to view it more like a film than
reality. But when his glasses come off, it means that Guido can no longer deny,
in this moment, what goes on in his life. To remove his glasses, then, equates
with taking himself down to the level of real life, to embrace the memory
presented before him. Suddenly, Fellini cuts to a new scene as Guido’s memories
take him back to an incident from his childhood. A whistle blows as Guido looks
on at the woman, and soon the viewers find themselves in a different location
entirely, as a previously unseen priest blows the whistle during a child’s
soccer game.
The flashback
sequence contains a distinct sense of unreality, even when compared to the rest
of the film, which hardly falls under the category of neorealism. “Guido!
Guido! Let’s go see the Saraghina!” chirps a chorus of schoolboys to the young
Guido; these mostly faceless little boys are abstracted tempters, somewhat akin
to the little devil on someone’s shoulder, leading them away from “the good
path,” are epitomized by the priests of the Catholic school Guido attends. An
enormous white statue of some kind of saint or martyr looms over the children,
a physical manifestation of the all-encompassing presence of the church in
Guido’s mind, all the way up through adulthood. Even when his directing career
seems critically and financially successful, he still seeks the approval of the
church.
While the church
might serve as the benevolent, yet domineering and sterile (stony and cold like
the statue) God-like father figure, Guido finds himself shown a different way
altogether: La Saraghina. Later on in the sequence, the confessor will say as
much: “Saraghina is the devil!” Saraghina, indeed, in everything other than her
immensity (which corresponds to the level of importance in Guido’s psyche)
represents everything that opposes the traditional culture of the Catholic
Church. An undeniably and entirely sexual creature, the antithesis of the harsh
celibacy of the Church, Saraghina nevertheless plays an equally huge part in
forming Guido’s character. Appearance-wise, she dresses all in black—the
opposite of the white statue in the courtyard of the school. Her feminine
features exaggerate to the point of resembling one of those old clay figures of
fertility goddesses. Her breasts and hips, large and wide, go well past what
society dictates beautiful woman to look like, yet she inexplicably manages to
come off both rather ugly and absolutely sexy. She embodies the dual
attraction/revulsion felt by Guido towards sexuality.
Saraghina lives by
the sea, a detail that would do us much good to examine. In Fellini’s
filmography, the beach serves as the setting for moments of great realization,
or at least the opportunity for realization. Zampanó’s breakdown in La Strada, his reflection on his sins
and the people he hurt in his life, occurs
on a beach. Marcello’s final scene and ultimate rejection of greater
transcendence in favor of material gratification occurs on a beach. The shore,
where land and earth meet, symbolize the blurring of the boundaries between
reality and the life of the mind. Seaside
scenes in other Fellini films show the protagonist confronting their fears and
desires while simultaneously seeing before them the real world; the shore asks
of them, “Will you apply what you think
and feel to your actions in the real world?” Some of Fellini’s protagonists
seem to answer the question in the affirmative. Others do not. The heart of the
ever-present conflict in Fellini’s oeuvre lies in the white sands of the
shoreline. 8 ½ continues this
pattern.
The aforementioned
unreality of this sequence leads the viewer to wonder about what, in fact,
happens in this scene. How about Saraghina’s little “performance” for the boys?
Does she limit herself to just dancing the rumba for them, or is her “dancing”
a visual representation of something far more scandalous, something perhaps that
Guido could not deal with literally? It appears that the priests and nuns and
Guido’s shamed mother view Saraghina as a “whore,” although they do not say it
in so many words. By giving Saraghina their money, do these young boys pay her
for a “deflowering?” The distinction ultimately matters little, but the
comparison and juxtaposition of the two matter greatly. Sex equates with fun
and enjoyment to the young Guido, or alternatively, fun and enjoyment equate to
sexuality. Regardless of what actually happened between Guido and the Saraghina
on the beach that day, the experience and the subsequent punishment he received
had a large impact on his developing nature.
Guido’s walk of
shame through the halls of the parochial school brings him past a series of portraits
of saints, martyrs, or other impressive clergymen, all male. His “sin”
contrasts with the reverence afforded to these symbols of the Church’s
holiness. Femininity links to sexuality, which links to sin, which links to
punishment, shame, guilt. and damnation. The bizarre, entirely androgynous and
asexual nuns of the church blast Guido with cries of “It’s a mortal sin!” and
“Shame on you!” Guido’s perceived options in life – either the church-approved way
of life, nonerotic, devoid of vitality, but wholesome and the path to heaven;
or the way of the Saraghina, carnal, sensual, exhilarating, yet scary and
overwhelming, the road to hell—constrict him, and create in him an ever-present
sense that his sexuality shames God, but that life without it, devoid of spark
and energy, remains his only alternative.
Guido’s mother
sits before him, weeping underneath a large portrait of a young boy, looking
angelic and saintly: Guido’s idealized potential self; the Guido who existed
before his dreaded encounter with the whore Saraghina. Guido’s mother
exemplifies the “ideal” female form condoned by the Church. His mother acts as
the matriarch, the homemaker, the nurturer; yet he cannot totally get away from
seeing his mother as a sexual being after his encounter with La Saraghina.
During the cemetery scene, Guido sees a vision of his mother. He goes to
embrace her, but the embrace turns into a passionate kiss. Fellini’s camera
obscures her face during the kiss. When Guido pulls away, his wife Luisa
appears before him, not his mother. Luisa, to Guido, serves the role of the
matriarch, the homemaker, the nurturer; just like his mother.
Another significant woman in his life, his
mistress Carla, calls to mind Saraghina in her obvious sexuality and more
curvaceous body. Both Carla and Luisa descend from the two important women of
his burgeoning adolescence. They substitute for the always opposed symbols of
womanhood that Guido found imprinted on him as a boy: the Mother and the Whore.
Luisa and Carla become new archetypes, evolved versions of the earlier
incarnations – the Wife and the Lover respectively. This comes to the
foreground during the later “harem” fantasy scene, where Luisa pulls her hair
back and wears an apron; very much the model of a traditional homemaker. Guido imagines her doting over him like a
loving mother, while Carla, during the same scene, dresses far more
provocatively and behaves flirtatiously. In his own fantasy world, Guido
attempts to recreate the Mother and the Whore of his past using figures of his
present. In the “real world,” Guido does the same; holding screen tests for
characters based on Saraghina and Luisa for his next film, trying to bring to
life the imagined idealized women he fails to understand in his reality. Even
the rumba music that Saraghina dances to reappears in his harem fantasy, as
Guido watches the nameless young black woman perform to the same song.
Obviously physically attracted to the young woman, Guido still, it seems,
associates Saraghina with his sexual urges.
A viewer can watch
a portent of the rest of Guido’s sexual life as the scene comes to a close. The
boy, despite the way the priests dragged him away, despite the horrid shrieking
of the nuns, despite his mother’s hysterical sobbing, despite the sign on his
back that reads “vergogna” or
“disgrace,” despite the mockery of the other boys, despite the fearful
confession with the old priest, still visits Saraghina’s home on the beach. He
sees her sitting in a chair by the shoreline, where she sings with a
incongruously angelic voice. Perhaps Saraghina cannot merely play the Devil.
Even she must possess a little angel
inside. Guido waves to her, their black clothes drawing a comparison between
the two and a contrast with the stark white sands of the beach. She looks at him
and merely says, “Ciao.” Ciao, meaning both “hello” and “goodbye,”
reflects that in this moment, on the ridge between dreams and waking life,
fantasy and reality, the mind and the body, Guido enters a world of sexual
confusion – of both the excitement and the terror – while leaving the world of
innocence. Guido does not, until perhaps the very final scene of the film,
which also, tellingly, takes place on a beach, ever truly leave that moment;
the day when he found himself split between cold white stone of the church and
the dark mystery of woman.
Great essay, really enjoyed the read! Very insightful, thanks for writing. :)
ReplyDeleteI liked this essay very much. Is the wrecked hull in the water a metaphor for the washed up sea hag?
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