Jesus was perfectly adapt at turning water into wine, but Fellini was capable of turning celluloid into liquid. 8 1/2 doesn’t rank quite as highly for me as La Dolce Vita, lacking the earlier film’s existential pull into Marcello Mastroianni’s (and subsequently Federico Fellini’s) soul. However, few films seem as fluid and as effortless as 8 1/2. The film simply swims along its many scattershot threads of thought, picking up all of Guido’s frustrations, limitations, ideas and dreams and arranging them in forever different compositions. Few directors, if any, were ever in the form Federico Fellini was in the late 50s-early 60s.