Towards the Moon with Fellini is an engaging little wisp of a movie. It's simple to describe it as "Fellini on the set of his last movie," but that sells it short: it's equal parts mocumentary, EPK and window into the process of one of the cinema's greatest eccentrics.

In the beginning, American journalist Christina Englehardt (in real-life, Fellini's assistant and friend on his last three films) stumbles upon the set of La voce della luna, quickly wheedling an invitation to observe the famously unobservable maestro. For six weeks, she and a camera crew wander around, interviewing everyone they can get their hands on.

What she discovers is that nobody on the set, from the producer to the actors (Paolo Villaggio and Robert Benigni) to the set designers has any idea what the film is about. They are simply putting their faith in Fellini. And the director himself doesn't seem completely aware either, although he never submits to an interview. He simply shouts out commands, apparently making it all up as he goes along.

That's really all there is too it: images of Fellini directing his of cast and crew from on high like the god they all regard him as, followed by interviews of Benigni being strange, followed by interviews of people swooning over their proximity to Fellini. It's much less annoying than it sounds, partially because there is very little of it (the film clocks in at 58 minutes), and partially because they are completely justified: Fellini is a god, and his process (which consisted of setting up images, and figuring out what scene was playing out in that image every day on set) is extraordinary.

In a Q&A with Englehardt afterwards, she described the behind-the-scenes tribulations of the film, which were considerably more intriguing than the film itself: it was meant to be a TV program advertising the film, but when the original producer died and was replaced by his confused son, La voce della luna was shelved, and this documentary was abandoned. For a decade, Englehardt tried to find completion funds, only to be told that foreign documentaries weren't marketable, and only within the last couple of years, as this conventional wisdom has proven false, has she been able to whip something up for festivals, and it's still incomplete: she wants to update it with new interviews and use it to drum up enthusiasm for the exceedingly rare Fellini film it describes.

You'll never get to see this film, so why do I bother reviewing it? Because it speaks to the true purpose of film festivals: a grounds for showcasing the unreleasable little snips and snaps of movie history that otherwise might only end up buried in an expensive collector's DVD set. If you've got a decent documentary fest in your area, keep an eye out for this one: it's tiny and delightful, hardly great art but fascinating none the less.