Fellini’s final film The Voice of the Moon (1990) follows Ivo Salvini (Roberto Benigni) as a well inspector on an unusual journey, oscillating between past and present throughout the countryside and in his hometown. Struck by the glow of the moon, ever-present in the lives of himself and the rich character ensemble, Ivo pursues the beauty Aldina, who rejects him in every situation, but his devotion never wavers. As his escapades continue winding through time, the recurring background characters add a spark and grounded humanity to liven up an often impenetrable, wispy tale.

Continuing themes explored in City of Women, Ginger and Fred, and Intervista, the collision of the nostalgic past with the contemporary present is a fun dichotomy, showcasing Fellini’s exaggerated take on new media, the 1980s, and youth culture. The undoubtedly once-beautiful small town setting is today a center of industry, spewing black smoke into the otherwise blue skies, while in the background, scaffolding and vulgar advertisements block long-standing architecture. The simplicity of the way things were and charms of small-town life are literally covered by the loud garishness of the present.

The strong sense of place, across time, is also strengthened through its colorful ensemble of personalities. Characters, many of whom go unnamed, appear ongoing throughout the film, and as the story unwinds, admittedly difficult to get a hold on, the recurring faces we know are something familiar to cling to. The memorable personalities of Nestor, the small man married to the domineering Marisa; the quiet grace of the Duchess, taken with the prefect Gonnella; the tender care of Ivo’s sister, revisiting his childhood home as an adult; all are interesting, much-needed foils to the wispy, frankly uninteresting presence of Ivo. He feels like a means to an end, the connective tissue bridging a colorful world and characters, but feels not of the charming, dynamic energy of the world around him.

For the finale, the moon is caught by the disturbed Micheluzzi brothers, culminating in a huge media storm with camera crews, panel experts, and townspeople gathered to witness it. It’s a fantastical, awe-inspiring scene, before humanity spoils it with an act of violence, panic breaks out, and the crowd scatters. After the roar of crowds and excitement, there is a profound stillness, as Ivo reflects that “If we all quieted down a little, maybe we’d understand something.”

As a message to wrap around the film, and ultimately as the swan song of Fellini’s career, it feels emblematic of so much of his storytelling: ever a lover of circuses, whether literal or modern-day showstopping performances, followed by the individual reflection, the quiet after the chaos. From grandiose showmanship and artifice comes the reality, often in isolation, to collect one’s thoughts and place in the world.