In its internal consistency, La Strada is more than a remarkable example of personal style. We may then ask: What is Fellini's image of the world we live in, his conception of man and the ethic he advances? Men are separated by astral distances and do not realize their unity in the human condition. Obstinately and gropingly they quest for understanding and belonging: everyone needs someone….

Undeniably, man's highest quest is to give meaning to his existence in the world. But neither pure matter (here, a pebble) nor man as a pure existent have being, or else this quest, expressed through man's conscious action, would be superfluous. In Fellini's Pantheism, however, the meaning of things and people is pre-existent to man's conscious actions; it is offered from above, metaphysically, by a spiritual agent. Meaning precedes existence. Therefore, there is no need—and no place, even—for man to create his own meaning through action of his free will, by imposing human significances upon things….

Aside from metaphysical doctrine, we also find in La Strada Catholic mythology: the Franciscan world inhabited by saints, beggars and simpletons, the weak and the oppressed who alone possess the secret of happiness and salvation—a world antipodal to that where "wealth is a sign of God's grace" and salvation is sought through efficiency….

The temptation to create myths is known to all artists. But to believe in myths is to believe in the immutability of human nature, to believe that man is in the hands of ineluctable destinies. Beyond its poetic appeal, the secret of the "ineffably touching" quality in La Strada can be summed up by a phrase of Descartes: "All our failings come from the fact that we were once children." La Strada's philosophy is for those who have secretly remained children; for those too who, not having been previously exposed to the mithridatic effects of "angelism," will be quietly drugged by its magic….

Whether we should accept La Strada's message is a matter of taste—and depth. But while a great work of art cannot be created out of slight substance, an exquisite one can. Fellini has given the screen a poem of bitter and tender beauty. Between the triumphant chant of Man in the revolutionary epic and the morbid howling of egos in the psychological drama, Gelsomina will be heard intoning the plaint of a soul and offering up an inarticulate plea for mercy. (p. 14)