“I thought my ideas were so clear.” That’s Guido Anselmi, the stand-in for Federico Fellini in 8 ½, trying to explain his inability to take the movie that exists in his mind and articulate how to film it to his increasingly impatient production crew. “I thought I had something so simple to say. Something useful to everybody. A film to help bury forever all the dead things we carry around inside.” He sits at the base of an enormous fake spaceship that is being built by the crew at enormous expense, to little apparent purpose. Anselmi’s head rolls into his chest, black hat merging with the shadows around him. “Now I’m utterly confused.”
in medias res
in medias res
in medias res
“I thought my ideas were so clear.” That’s Guido Anselmi, the stand-in for Federico Fellini in 8 ½, trying to explain his inability to take the movie that exists in his mind and articulate how to film it to his increasingly impatient production crew. “I thought I had something so simple to say. Something useful to everybody. A film to help bury forever all the dead things we carry around inside.” He sits at the base of an enormous fake spaceship that is being built by the crew at enormous expense, to little apparent purpose. Anselmi’s head rolls into his chest, black hat merging with the shadows around him. “Now I’m utterly confused.”