La Dolce Vita opens with one of the most telling widescreen images ever captured, pure in its symbolism yet entirely mechanical in fact: a helicopter is seen flying over Rome carrying a gigantic statue of Christ, the apocalyptic representation of values in flux. Fellini creates a rich, intricate tapestry of "Rome, the Babylon of my dreams" that is an indictment of a nightmarish and cruel society. The film's wondrously ornate and jagged composition is finely tuned to exude an air of randomness as an episodic narrative follows Marcello, a jaded journalist (played by Marcello Mastroianni) on an odyssey in search of himself amid the decadent, dehumanized beauties of Rome's upper classes. This meandering narrative structure reflects the very disorder of Roman society, as well as Marcello's personal loss of direction. Beyond this scathing report of malnourished life, La Dolce Vita is a sumptuous spectacle: the glittering miracle of the Tree, the pea-brained Hollywood star (played by Anita Ekberg) poised and ready in the Trevi Fountain, the "annulment party" with its assortment of beach bums, chorus girls and bar-flies, and the flash-bulb popping paparazzi swarming about every scene of horror. A brilliant portrayal of the modern temper, La Dolce Vita only sweetens with age.