Frederico Fellini’s lucid, semiautobiographical 1963 landmark, 8½, could be considered the template for filmdom’s self-aggrandizing tendencies. Suffering from director’s block, Fellini looked deep inside himself and decided to direct a movie about a director with director’s block who suffers through his process and retreats into his dreams and fantasies when frustrated. Poor guy. All these gorgeous women want to be with him. All the men want to be him. The film is a relic of a master, a sterling look at the glamour that, to this day, the elite receive with a shrug. The elitism can leave a sour taste, but damned if Fellini’s dreams aren’t as gorgeous to the eye as they are disheartening to the soul.