Day 50: And the Ship Sails On (1983)

Well, well, well, look at that. Day 50 of our 100 films in 100 days “Criterion Summer!” Halfway done already and it feels like we just started. But, luckily, we get to mark this special occasion with an equally special film.

“And the Ship Sails On” may have been one of Federico Fellini’s later films of his career, but it is also one of his freshest and most whimsical. Taking us on a cruise ship full of interesting and wonderful characters, Fellini delivers a mix of social and artistic satire, very much in the vein of a Marx Brothers comedy, but without the overt slap stick. Here we have something more subtle in humor, something sweeter and, if you can believe it, even more self aware than Groucho and his comrades.

In “And the Ship Sails On” we accompany a journalist, who acts as our host and narrator, as he sails with a ship full of artists and upper class to the island of Erimo to spread the ashes of the internationally famous and recently deceased Opera singer, Edmea Tetua. But, as our narrator begins to describe the goings-on of the ship, he quickly finds his hands full as each passenger has a unique story to be told.

For instance, a jealous Soprano tries learn the secret of Tetua’s unforgettable voice, a Russian Bass attempts to hypnotizes a chicken with his singing and a aristocratic voyeur, spies on his nymphomaniac wife, who is after every sailor or maid she can get her hands on. Not to mention, there is a lovesick rhinoceros in the ship’s haul and the Count of Bassano is so obsessed with the late Opera singer that he even walks around in the dead woman’s clothes!

As you can see, quiet a boatful to handle, but things soon grow even stranger as the passengers discover a crowd of shipwrecked Serbians flouting in the water and are forced to bring them onto the ship. Soon the poor Serbs are intermixing with the high class Italians and everything seems to have gone topsy-turvy for good to the delight of some and the despise of others. But all will soon have to join together as an Austro-Hungarian battleship appears in the distance, their guns ready to fire on the cruise ship for harboring their Serbian enemies.

As I mentioned before, “And the Ship Sails On” is a film that is certifiably unique with its over amount of self awareness. From the very beginning, the journalist breaks the forth wall and speaks directly to the audience, but almost as more than just a narrator. At times, it feels as if he is almost pitching the film itself as he introduces characters and gives constant analysis on the events that take place. It should also be noted that no one on the ship seems to find the narrator’s rambling troublesome, as if they also realize that an audience is being served with the story and therefore must be informed. Occasionally, characters even quickly look at the camera as if they have forgotten of the audience’s presence and are suddenly remembered of it. In the film, we are not a “fly on the wall” but more of a special guest to the chaos, given a free pass to watch though not interfere.

The most shocking of any examples I could give about the film’s self awareness comes close to the end when the ship rocks heavily back and forth and suddenly the camera pans out to show the ship as part of an massive film set and Fellini himself sitting behind the camera, capturing it all. In the book “I, Fellini” by Charlotte Chandler, the great director says, “The deck of the ship in “And the Ship Sails On” was constructed on Stage 5 at Cinecittà. It was supported on hydraulic jacks and rocked realistically.” “The sea was created from polyethylene. The obviously artificial painted sunset looked beautiful. The appearance of artificiality is deliberate. At the end, I reveal the set and me behind a camera, the entire magic show.”

And so he does. With the reveal of the ship set, Fellini not only breaks the fourth wall but obliterates it. Though throughout the entire film the narrator has hinted towards the idea that everything is simply a story, it isn’t until this point that we fully grasp what we have witnessed. For many, film is a chance to escape into a different world, but Fellini treats this picture like a stage play or, more appropriately, an opera, where we are taken into a story, but not into a world. When the house lights come up, we are reminded by the sides of a stage, or, in this film’s case, the ends of the set, that we are experiencing a production- a representation of life, which, in its own way, holds a certain amount of magic. For getting lost in a film is fun, but appreciating that such an elaborate facade as been created to entertain can be as equally amazing.

To learn more about “And the Ship Sails On,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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