What a difficult task to review 8 ½!  Do I go for humor or insight?  Is the role of the critic to lay out a classic like this in the most straightforward way imaginable since it is one of those required introductions to foreign cinema or to bring something new to the table and engage the reader in a unique way and get them to think of the film in a new light?  Where even do I start?  Chronological run-downs and synopses are half-baked and overdone, but I fear going against the critical grain or ruffling too many feathers with regard to an undisputed masterpiece may lose me some readers.  It’s the old struggle between art vs. entertainment, fighting for individual expression without slipping into puerile solipsism.  Is this a review about a film or a review of reviewing or is even that giving myself too much credit?  Is it hot in here or is just me?  My artistic temperament left me debilitated, unable to relate my impressions through mere words?  Form now dictated by the chains that enslave me to my own sub-conscience, audacious promises of the review about one of the greats slowly slipping out of reach.  Have I built such expectations over these last 30 reviews that anything short of making them think “My god, I’ve never thought of it that way!” would be deemed a disposable failure?  The pressure is so overwhelming, it’s downright paralyzing.  I am not worthy of 8 ½ and I sure as hell am not qualified to tell anyone what they’ve been missing about it.  Perhaps some sort of grandiose gesture is needed, a Tower of Babel perhaps for me to stand upon, hollow inside yet so distractingly large, no one will question its value before their jaw drops from its mere scope.  Have I constructed a house of cards that must inevitably crumble beneath the pretense of my sheer arrogance in even following through with this concept?  Perhaps a distraction…reverie?…nostalgia?…objectification and meaningless sex sometimes do the trick, don’t they?  It’s getting embarrassing by this point.  Why continue going on when each step forward is only digging a deeper hole for my detractors to shove me into and bury me under the empty shards and shallow contemplations I continue to think may pass as a film review?  “But this isn’t a film review” you say.  And perhaps you’re right and it was silly of me to lead you to believe that it was.  Is there any value in examining the process behind, what do they call it, writer’s block?  Is it even writer’s block anymore when your fingers literally can’t remove themselves from the keyboard, as if the subconscious mind has finally reached equilibrium with my typing speed?  Where would I be right now had my parents not forced me to do Typing Tutor in my middle school years?  But no, I don’t want to think of my youth, since that’s not what this is about.  Or is it even about anything anymore?  Does it need to be?  What of the thematic content or cinematography in 8 ½…that’s what I’m expected to discuss, yet discussing it would only make me one of thousands of other critics who’ve tackled it and the end result is either disappointment that others have done it better or revealing that even in saying something interesting, there is no way to do so without sticking to the formula I have laid out for myself.  How can I be one of them and stand apart from them?  It’s late and I’m exhausted and frightened my fraudulence will soon be revealed for all to see.  Better to ignore it.  “He has nothing to say!” she boldly declares after cackling right in front of me, but is there a difference between having nothing to say and saying something about having nothing to say?  Am I making 8 ½ sound like Seinfeld?  Are they really that different?  I’d like to say no, but reason tells me the answer is probably yes.  Regardless, that’s another house of cards for another day and my fears of inadequacy and artistic failure need their rest.  I’ll exit quietly for fear that any loud noises may disrupt the words above, causing gravity to infiltrate the world of text and bring this hollow sham of a review crumbling down into a pile of unconnected words and letters.  On second thought, let’s just pretend that’s what happened and move on, shall we?