When does the statute of limitations end for the whole notion of “coming of age?” At least here in the U.S., it’s 18 by the law. Still, adulthood arrives at different moments for different people, and sometimes not at all. Culture, too, is a determinant of when an individual is tasked to abandon childish things. Anyone watching “I Vitelloni” (1953) would conclude that maturity begins to dawn upon its participants — in particular, its male participants — at age 35.

Kind of late, don’t you think? Sociologists can point to “I Vitelloni,” the film that brought director Federico Fellini to international renown, as an indicator of the tight-knit nature of Italian families. Cinephiles will mention that casting, back in the day, didn’t always conform to age-appropriateness. Social justice warriors, should they deign to watch a 70-year-old entertainment, will have plenty to say about toxic masculinity and how heavily it weighs on the body politic.

Really, though, shouldn’t the cohort of moderately-aged guys that form the nucleus of “I Vitelloni” know better? That was, of course, Fellini’s point. The title of the film, roughly translated from dialect, refers to goldbrickers, good-for-nothings, mama’s boys, and, in the immortal locution of W.C. Fields, slugabeds. The movie underscores, albeit with a fond moral compass, that boys will be boys even when they’re men. Is it a sign of progress that Fellini’s unembarrassed paean to misspent manhood comes off as a bit antiquated? Maybe.

Antiquated and, it should be noted, beguiling. Here is Fellini before he became Fellini, a young screenwriter and director finding his bearings, an inquisitive sensibility open to experimentation and, especially, risk. In retrospect, we can see how the picture is marked with trademark Fellinisms — its headlong rhythms, for one, and a not altogether sensible conflation of life and art. But even within its fairly conventional strictures, “I Vitelloni” retains a loose-limbed bonhomie. Movie-goers who find the mature Fellini too mannered will enjoy this film’s shambling good will.

Who are the loose-limbed cadre of man-boys at the center of “I Vitelloni?” There’s Riccardo (Riccardo Fellini, the director’s younger brother), a wanna-be actor and singer. Leopoldo (Leopoldo Trieste) has aspirations to become the Ibsen of Italy. Alberto (Alberto Sordi) is a mooch on his sister Olga (Claude Farell) and a clown down for anything. Fausto (Franco Fabrizi) likes the ladies and shows little caution in chasing them down. Moraldo (Franco Interlenghi), the most serious of the bunch, spends an inordinate amount of time pining for better things — preferably beyond the provincial township he calls home.

The picture begins with a beauty pageant, follows up with a shotgun wedding, and then ambles with no particular place to go through an unnamed city on the Adriatic. Each of the characters is given his own moment of individuation and crisis, especially Fausto with his skirt-chasing ways and, in a minor key, Leopold and his hankering for recognition. When the latter encounters the famed stage actor Sergio Natali (Achille Majeroni), he hopes for artistic validation, but, instead, finds himself the subject of unwanted attention. Dreams die hard.

Fellini encountered significant flack when making the film, particularly when it came to casting. Investors demanded name talent, and the two names that had any bearing for the public, Fabrizi and Sordi, had just come off major bombs. But what do money men know? Upon release, “I Vitelloni” made Sordi a star and garnered huzzahs from critics and audiences the world over. Nino Rota’s soaring score added significantly to the film’s appeal, as did Italy itself, here seen as an extension of Giorgio de Chirico’s dead-end romanticism. 

Should you want Fellini at his most innovative, look elsewhere, but make a pitstop here for a filmmaker at his most approachable. “I Vitelloni” makes for good companionship.