Federico Fellini (1920-1993) wasn’t just a director — he was a mad genius with a camera. He ditched the rulebook and spun celluloid dreams — tapestries of symbols, imagination, and emotion. Reality and fantasy bled together in his work, making his films more like waking hallucinations — timeless, weird, and unforgettable.
Fellini’s world is now America’s reality: truth twisted, fame worshipped, and society spiraling in a dance of power and distraction. Like the lost souls in La Dolce Vita, Americans chase pleasure and status while wrestling a deeper spiritual void. Beneath the glitter lies rot — inequality, mental strain, and political chaos. Today, the absurd is king. Politicians play clowns, influencers turn accidents into viral gold, and public discourse nosedives into farce.
I can’t help but wonder — what would Fellini make of life in today’s America? With that thought, I imagined the letter he might write to his wife.
Dear Giulietta:
I have just returned from a month in America, and I must tell you what I have seen. The country is in a strange and unsettling state. It feels restless, as if something is about to break, yet no one seems certain what that will be.
The people I met live with a tension that clings to them. There is an energy on the streets, but it is not excitement — it is anxiety. Conversations are strained, filled with worries about their future, their politics, and their identity. Everyone seems convinced something bad is coming, yet they go about their lives as if ignoring it will keep it away.
I encountered a man they call Trump. He is loud, boastful, and constantly seeking attention. His presence hangs over the country. Some people admire him, believing he speaks honestly, though I found him careless, impulsive, and driven more by vanity than vision. His followers seem to crave chaos, as if disruption is the only thing that makes them feel powerful.
The opposition is disorganized. They speak with caution, afraid of saying too much or too little. They talk about principles and values, but their words seem empty. They are caught in a loop of endless debate, warning of disaster but never acting to prevent it.
The wealth in America is extraordinary, yet so many live in uncertainty. The rich hide in gated neighborhoods, isolated from the struggles of ordinary people. Meanwhile, those without money fight to survive. I saw men in grocery stores counting their coins, calculating what they could afford to eat. I saw tired women working late into the night, their faces hard with exhaustion.
Most disturbing of all was the silence. Not the silence of peace, but the silence of distraction. People there are trapped in glowing screens. They stare at their devices during meals, on the bus, even while walking down the street. They are disconnected from each other, yet convinced they are more informed than ever. They follow trends, debates, and scandals, yet seem unable to recognize the ground shifting beneath their feet.
In this state of confusion, a new force is rising. While America fights itself, China is moving quietly, making deals, strengthening alliances, and expanding its influence. Their leaders are calm and deliberate, gaining power while America wastes its energy on internal conflict. If this continues, I believe America will find itself replaced as the dominant world power without even noticing when it happened.
Despite this, there is something stubborn about Americans. Even now, when their politics are failing and their institutions feel weak, I see flashes of determination. I met men and women who continue to work hard, care for strangers, and believe in a better future. There is a belief among many that their country can recover — that somehow, after all this, things will still turn out right.
I am not sure what will happen. I suspect that something must break before this tension can end. Perhaps a crisis will force the people to see what they have ignored. Perhaps they will retreat further into anger and fear. But there is still a chance — faint, but real — that the people will remember their better instincts and find their way forward.
I left America unsure if I had seen the beginning of a collapse or the slow gathering of strength before a new beginning. I hope for the latter, but I cannot say which is more likely.
Yours,
Federico
Coming soon on Syncopated Justice
Until we meet again, let your conscience be your guide.
Hnnn, I hadn't thought of the present political situation as a Fellini film, but yes, it could qualify, though while artful, it be far from art, que no?
Who knows what he might have made of the circus of it all. And the cheesy fascist theatricality and costumery.