Ingmar Bergman (1918–2007)

The easiest insight into famed film director Ingmar Bergman is probably found through viewing his films. Better perhaps would be an opportunity to witness the many, many plays he staged over his long career, if that were possible. Somewhere in between, I think, lies this autobiography. At times impressionistic, even fanciful. At times sentimental. At times full of anger as he recalls, usually, his childhood relationship with his father. Rarely systematic. Key incidents, such as the spurious show more tax investigation of his affairs which prompted him to later take up a self-imposed exile from his beloved Sweden, get a thorough airing. Others, such as his numerous marriages, births of his children, etc. barely register. An egoist through and through, but with a keen hope that his egoism might yet be translated into a universal humanism.

The autobiography is especially interesting on Bergman’s creative process. He appears to have been primarily gifted with a prodigious capacity for work and the self-discipline to take advantage of that. He seems to be constantly writing theatre plays, screenplays, radio dramas. And when he isn’t being directly creative with his pen, he is painstakingly producing notes towards the production of these plays, films, and dramas. The workload over such a long stretch becomes astonishing. And it confirms his oft-stated claim that he was merely a craftsman diligently working to produce something of use for his audience.

At times he is insightful but more often his vanity and pride blur insight. And with his early confession that he was, even as a boy, a committed liar, there is always a suspicion on the part of the reader that some this might be, well, imaginative. But even through lies we sometimes gain glimpses of truth, obliquely.

Certainly recommended. show less

Wherein I revisit Persona, a regrettable decision.

According to the man, since he won the Grand Prix at Cannes with Smiles of a Summer Night in 1956, his fame meant no-one would give him honest criticism, he said.
"There hasn't been anyone with whom I can discuss my scripts," he said.
"Even when the film is done, there is no-one I can show it to who gives his sincere opinion. There is silence."

Mr Bergman, step this way.

HONESTLY?

I’m really fucking irritated, Mr Bergman that I had to listen show more to a stream of complete drivel from girl one in this movie, whilst girl two says nothing at all. I tried to look on the bright side of this. Maybe if she did speak she’d be even worse.

I follow the idea that you can’t stand people, but nonetheless, women come off badly in a way that now, long time later, is simply oldfashionedly sexist. When they aren’t talking drivel they are being hysterical. Or withholding, that’s another one, thinking of that comedy which has the guy involved with two women, the wife who does’t give out at all and the ex-lover who makes her living out of the opposite, the ex-lover whose mother made her fortune by having secrets to tell too. I guess since you got to fuck any female you wanted to, whilst behaving, by all accounts like a complete pig, you had little cause to respect them, is that it? I sort of get that. They can’t have had much respect for themselves, I guess. There is even the most hilarious (unintentionally, I think) male fantasy of getting to fuck somebody other than his wife, certain it is his wife – even though his wife is watching. I mean, right there watching, not hiding behind the curtain watching. If it WERE true, that girl one was being taken over by the persona of girl two, why didn’t her acting step up? I mean, the other girl was an actor!!! Get with the plot, man. Plot. Well, you know. Not plot obviously. That would be not in keeping with being on the cutting edge of experimentalism.

I understand, further, that you’d just had a disaster, a comedy in which I vaguely recall you got all your shags to star, perhaps that is just a recipe that isn’t likely to work, and yes, the French were experimenting…but. Did you have to?

I’m ploughing my way through your movies again, and with the exception of The Seventh Seal, I am sorely disappointed to date. Maybe I’m on an unlucky run and it’ll get better.

It’s nothing personal, the French are disappointing me too. I’m hoping that the Italians don’t let me down when I get to them.

Please don’t tell me what a masterpiece everybody thinks this movie is. As the man said, nobody is willing to tell him the truth. That’s my take, anyway.

It all serves me right for revisiting my childhood, when I was raised on this stuff and couldn’t get enough of it. Isn’t it splendid, the uncritical nature of childhood? show less

Wherein I revisit Persona, a regrettable decision.

According to the man, since he won the Grand Prix at Cannes with Smiles of a Summer Night in 1956, his fame meant no-one would give him honest criticism, he said.
"There hasn't been anyone with whom I can discuss my scripts," he said.
"Even when the film is done, there is no-one I can show it to who gives his sincere opinion. There is silence."

Mr Bergman, step this way.

HONESTLY?

I’m really fucking irritated, Mr Bergman that I had to listen show more to a stream of complete drivel from girl one in this movie, whilst girl two says nothing at all. I tried to look on the bright side of this. Maybe if she did speak she’d be even worse.

I follow the idea that you can’t stand people, but nonetheless, women come off badly in a way that now, long time later, is simply oldfashionedly sexist. When they aren’t talking drivel they are being hysterical. Or withholding, that’s another one, thinking of that comedy which has the guy involved with two women, the wife who does’t give out at all and the ex-lover who makes her living out of the opposite, the ex-lover whose mother made her fortune by having secrets to tell too. I guess since you got to fuck any female you wanted to, whilst behaving, by all accounts like a complete pig, you had little cause to respect them, is that it? I sort of get that. They can’t have had much respect for themselves, I guess. There is even the most hilarious (unintentionally, I think) male fantasy of getting to fuck somebody other than his wife, certain it is his wife – even though his wife is watching. I mean, right there watching, not hiding behind the curtain watching. If it WERE true, that girl one was being taken over by the persona of girl two, why didn’t her acting step up? I mean, the other girl was an actor!!! Get with the plot, man. Plot. Well, you know. Not plot obviously. That would be not in keeping with being on the cutting edge of experimentalism.

I understand, further, that you’d just had a disaster, a comedy in which I vaguely recall you got all your shags to star, perhaps that is just a recipe that isn’t likely to work, and yes, the French were experimenting…but. Did you have to?

I’m ploughing my way through your movies again, and with the exception of The Seventh Seal, I am sorely disappointed to date. Maybe I’m on an unlucky run and it’ll get better.

It’s nothing personal, the French are disappointing me too. I’m hoping that the Italians don’t let me down when I get to them.

Please don’t tell me what a masterpiece everybody thinks this movie is. As the man said, nobody is willing to tell him the truth. That’s my take, anyway.

It all serves me right for revisiting my childhood, when I was raised on this stuff and couldn’t get enough of it. Isn’t it splendid, the uncritical nature of childhood? show less

Em honra do centenário de Ingmar Bergman

Quem diria que um dos maiores cineastas de todos os tempos estaria totalmente rendido ao teatro em sua autobiografia? Sua vida foi o teatro, é nele que reside as maiores descrições técnicas e sentimentais sobre os ofícios que exercia, gosto de como Bergman mescla essa labuta diária com rápidos lampejos do cinema e a forma como estrutura o livro entre capítulos que narram a infância alternadamente com a fase adulta, na medida que atingem um show more ponto comum ao final.
Aliás, já estava completamente inquieta e indignada que Bergman não havia citado o Gunnar Björnstrand uma única vez no livro todo, o ator com quem mais trabalhara e pelo qual sou apaixonadíssima, até ler o capítulo que ele disse que não falaria dos amigos nesse livro e fiquei mais aliviada.
Um livro relevante para conhecer a intimidade que Bergman nos deixa ver, nem com tantos detalhes, mas com detalhes suficientes para delinearmos uma persona que foi humana e errou muito, mas que nos deixou um legado em película maior do que si.

https://letterboxd.com/ladyspiggott/list/centenario-de-ingmar-bergman/ show less