Episodic journey of journalist Marcello who struggles to find his place in the world, torn between the allure of Rome's elite social scene and the stifling domesticity offered by his girlfriend, all the while searching for a way to become a serious writer.
The abysmally poor syncing of dialogue in post-production merely has the effect of conveying the idea that the audience's comprehension of Fellini's work was a mere afterthought and/or as if the idea of having dialogue itself was a vulgar concept, imposed by some external force without his express approval onto his otherwise perfect artistic project. (I'm sorry, I just don't like Fellini.)
Fellini undertook in La Dolce Vita to provide a Dantean vision of the modern world as viewed from the top instead of the bottom. Unfortunately, there is more to a great film than a great conception, and Fellini has enlarged his material without expanding his ideas. Consequently, the film is as bloated as the fish which terminates the orgy sequence.
