In eight self-contained stories taking place on the Via Veneto strip in Rome – with its nightclubs, sidewalk cafes, celebrities and paparazzi – tabloid journalist Marcello (Marcello Mastroianni) searches for his place in the modern world.

Marcello’s adventures begin early in the night, proceed to a crisis in the wee hours and conclude at dawn, when the segment is resolved. These include romancing a socialite lost in boredom (Anouk Aimee), trying to seduce a busty movie star (Anita Ekberg) only to end up wading in the Fontana di Trevi, reporting to the countryside with his possessive girlfriend (Yvonne Furneaux) and photographer Paparazzo (Walter Stantesso) to cover two children who claim to have seen the Madonna, and Marcello taking his rolling stone of a father out for a night in Rome.

These events each start with a promise of adventure or – at a bare minimum – release from the mundane, but conclude with Marcello alone and more adrift in his world than before.

A hugely ambitious film for Europe at the time, La dolce vita propelled director Federico Fellini to the top as one of the great filmmakers of his era. It’s episodic in eschewing traditional plot structure, epic in length (at 174 minutes), often brilliant, completely mesmerizing, very funny, groundbreaking and a vivid statement of a director’s sense of the world at the time.

La dolce vita gave the world the word “paparazzi.” Never before had roving packs of celebrity photographers been seen in a movie, and their behavior as we know it didn’t even have a name. The film’s recurring motif is that nothing is sacred in the modern world. This is evident from the opening sequence – one of the most famous in modern cinema – in which a helicopter flies a statue of Jesus past Roman ruins and over the city, where it hovers so that Marcello and Paparazzo can flirt with some sunbathing women on a rooftop.

From here, Fellini issues a satirical critique of the popular consolations of the century: family, marriage, the church, the news media, intellectualism, the cult of celebrity. None of these hold any answers for Marcello, who fancies himself a serious novelist, but like most of the characters in the film, is incapable of taking any action to change his circumstances or give up the fast paced, highly competitive, non-committed lifestyle that has consumed him.

Marcello’s smug friend Steiner (Alain Cuny) seems to have the answers for everything our hero wants: a lovely wife, children, nice apartment and plenty of eclectic friends. But lurking behind Steiner’s philosophy lies a real fear of the world and where it’s headed for his children, which leads to a bad end for them all.

The only peace Marcello finds is in a chat with a teenaged girl he meets working at a beach tavern. She’s pure, uncorrupted and shares his wistfulness for the way things were. In the film’s final scene, she recognizes him on the beach, but the distance and the waves drown out whatever she’s trying to convey to him. Not understanding her, Mastroianni waves goodbye and heads off to his next decadent adventure. He’s lost, but as the girl stares toward the camera, we get some hope that the world is not.

Endings to movies rarely achieve the tonal perfection of this one. Maybe The Godfather Part II, but it’s a short list and La dolce vita is definitely on it.

The lighting and camerawork of Otello Martelli are framed in beautiful black and white “Totalscope.” The imagery is some of the most vivid ever put on film. Rome circa 1959 was still a post-war wasteland of rotting villas and ugly apartment blocks surrounded by dirt. Fellini did not set out to romanticize the city, but the yearning and desire of Nino Rota’s lush musical score and the visual palette of the film brilliantly touch on a world inside the characters that’s trying to get out. This makes Rome seem beautiful.

The screenplay by Fellini, Ennio Flaiano, Tullio Pinelli & Brunello Rondi is every bit as towering a feat as Pulp Fiction or Magnolia. As an added bonus, fashion model turned singer Nico pops up playing herself in an extended cameo.

Winner of the Palme d’Or at the 1960 Cannes Film Festival. Nominated for three Academy Awards and winner for Best Black & White Art Direction by Piero Gherardi.