And the Ship Sails On - Criterion Collection (1983) USA
And the Ship Sails On - Criterion Collection Image Cover
Additional Images
Director:Federico Fellini
Producer:Aldo Nemni, Franco Cristaldi, Renzo Rossellini
Writer:Federico Fellini, Tonino Guerra
Rating:4.0 (16 votes)
Date Added:2007-10-19
Genre:Art House & International
Picture Format:Letterbox
Aspect Ratio:1.85:1
Sound:Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono
Federico Fellini  ...  (Director)
Federico Fellini, Tonino Guerra  ...  (Writer)
Freddie Jones  ...  
Barbara Jefford  ...  
Victor Poletti  ...  
Peter Cellier  ...  
Elisa Mainardi  ...  
Phil Ehart  ...  Himself
John Elefante  ...  
Robert Ezrin  ...  
Billy Greer  ...  
Dave Hope  ...  
Kerry Livgren  ...  
Steve Morse  ...  
Robby Steinhardt  ...  
Steve Walsh  ...  Himself
Rich Williams  ...  Himself
Giuseppe Rotunno  ...  Cinematographer
Ruggero Mastroianni  ...  Editor
Summary: Federico Fellini's 1984 "And the Ship Sails On" is one of the late master's most fanciful projects, while simultaneously striking one of the most somber notes in the director's filmography. The year is 1914, the eve of World War I and the coming destruction of Europe's old, cultured aristocracy, an elite class mourned in many a film from Renoir's "The Grand Illusion" to Truffaut's "The Green Room". A luxury liner sets sail from Italy, full of artists, a royal entourage, and one rhinoceros. The point of the voyage is to scatter the ashes of a world-famous diva, but the exotic passengers--blithely unaware of the imminent conflict--have many, more private intrigues going on behind closed doors. Still, it is the self-containment and formality of these travelers, at once absurd and moving, that sticks with the viewer: the way the many singers, musicians, and conductors (and one plump archduke) seem aware, in public, of embodying a privileged history. Fellini films all the action aboard an impressively lush and blatantly artificial set, with a painted sky, paper moon, and cellophane sea, all underscoring the dreamy, precious nature of this adventure. The camera itself becomes a kind of character via a determined journalist (Freddie Jones) who speaks to us directly, drawing the film into vaguely obscene disruptions of an otherwise serene formalism. "--Tom Keogh"