PRINT May 1990


Federico Fellini

“BLUE MOON, NOW I’M no longer alone, without a dream in my heart . . .” In his latest film, The Voice of the Moon, which will open the Cannes Film Festival this month, Federico Fellini dispenses with dreams and with those who dream them, especially directors. Instead we have Ivo Salvini—a clever, candid Roberto Benigni—fashioned by Fellini as part Pinocchio, part the poet Giacomo Leopardi. Salvini is one who hears voices: not only the classical voices of literature, great and minor, and the murmurings of the oral tradition, but also the cacophony of voices we are forced to listen to every day. So it is that Salvini’s innocuous follies and his so-called “lunatic” (from the Latin luna, for “moon”) friends, who follow isolated routes and desires—to see the world from the roof, to feel oneself pursued by a musical note, to imprison the moon—come to seem the only sane manifestations of

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