Amarcord

(...) Amarcord marks Fellini’s return to the provinces, in a permanent toing and froing in his career. However, the marvellous scenes in Amarcord that have become legendary (the illuminated liner, the peacock, etc.) should not mislead us: Fellini’s view of the provinces is both a protective cocoon and a stifling universe. (...) Fellini’s angry observation is that because nothing can happen in this gentle, docile little town in Romagna, the Fascist dictatorship was able to flourish. The visit of the buffoonish and tragic Mussolini dignitary is the central element of Amarcord: all the characters in the film come together there, from the imbecilic notables to the ridiculous priests, not forgetting the usual outcasts in Fellini’s bestiary who are all the more harmless because the rest of the little town is kept on a tight social leash. Fellini, in an approach that would later be seen in his anti-TV films, nevertheless tempers his critical rage with a deep melancholy. Despite his virulence, the Maestro was well aware that a part of himself remained attached to the provinces from which he came: it would be difficult to reject it without amputating something from himself. For Fellini, whose work is obsessed with the disappearance of the past, the memories lived or imagined in Amarcord are a new attempt to overcome the anguish of death. (Samuel Douhaire; Libération)