It's certainly more focused than many of his films from the same era, with Fellini managing to present a loose story that we can actually buy into, whilst the use of humour here is much broader and more central than some of his other films, with the references to Chaplin and the silent age helping to undercut the overt-stylisation (a thousand acres of plastic seas, a huge light bulb sun, etc) and the lack of an obvious central character (or any real character, for that matter). Once again, Fellini deals in caricatures, choosing actors more for their physical appearance than any kind of acting ability, then directs them to mug to the camera with movements and expressions as grand as the film's design.

The photography here is exquisite (like all Fellini), with the director creating a number of beautiful images and compositions that look like paintings from the early part of the last century. The opening scene for example is the most astounding thing that the director ever created... the crew and opera singers carry the coffin of their beloved soprano down the jetty and up onto the ship in a series of long, sweeping crane shots. Deceptively, but also as to illustrate his cinematic references, Fellini begins the film with no sound and in a dull, brown sepia. As the film progresses, and the camera follows the mourners and the actions of the ship's crew, the sound of the ship-yard begins to slowly fade in... much like the colour of the images. There are a number of other stand out cinematic moments, in which Fellini gracefully orchestrates the actors and his camera so that their movements are integrated, almost like a musical, whilst the use of fast-motion to over-exaggerate the period feel and to create a sense of farce that works well with the material, and Fellini's style of direction.

Some might argue that the film is quite trivial and never really ascends to the level of greatness set by the likes of La Strada, 8 ½ and Amarcord, and I suppose that's true, but for me, the film creates such an atmosphere and such a wholly intoxicating world of stylisation, arcane historical references and the trademark Fellini absurdities, that the whole film becomes a joy to sit through. On top of all the grand visual flourishes, outlandish characterisations and general Fellini-isms, there's also the various symbolic references and narrative interpretations, which give the film a further layer of entertainment.

The use of World War One as a pivot for the latter half of the story is an essential one and is important in as much as it allows Fellini (after so much time spent on spectacle and cinematic buffoonery) to create a notion much more meaningful and memorable. There are a number of interpretations and connotations you could connect to the idea of the ship (a metaphor about class... society... royalty... the birth of a nation... the idea of escape... the ship of fools... etc) and the idea of life and death, so irremovably woven into the depiction of the mourners. So, what begins as a typically Fellini-esque romp, gradually becomes something much more meaningful, and remains, in my opinion, his last true masterpiece.

Admittedly, it's nowhere near as essential as his earlier films, pre-8 ½, in which his work generally had a much greater degree of narrative and cohesion, though from his later, more grandiose films, ...And The Ship Sails on remains an absolute treat... better than the difficult Roma and Satyricon, more impressive and enjoyable than Casanova and The City of Women and perhaps just short of the charm and atmosphere of the masterpiece Amarcord. All in all, an epic and enjoyable film that stands as a grand testament to one of the artistic giants of post-war cinema, 20th century cinema.

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