theachilles

Stig and Marta are two young musicians playing together in a Swedish orchestra. They meet, they fall in love and they get married. If this synopsis leaves you expecting a romantic film, you'll be disappointed to find out a rough, realistic, yet very sentimental piece of art.

In this film, Bergman uses a quite interesting storytelling method that works really effectively. Although the way their marriage ends is revealed to us in the opening sequence making the rest of the film a flashback (a technique with which Bergman is already familiar with), when the movie reaches its final scene, one can't help but be extremely moved by the way things end up.

Once again, the performances are great and it is clear that these actors open up their own private world for all of us to see, and they can do that simply because they feel comfortable with a director like Bergman. They know they are in safe hands. Victor Sjostrom definitely steals the show (and Bergman will work with him again in Wild Strawberries), but it is the face of Maj-Britt Nilsson (Marta) that will remain in your mind for a long time.

Already in these early films of his, the Swedish master shows his love for close-ups. He likes to diminish the distance between the audience and the actors, especially their faces, sharing the belief that not only their eyes, but also the texture of their skin can reveal to us a whole lot of things about the characters. After all, close ups are one of the great advantages of cinema that have ultimately become one of the most characteristic building blocks of this art form, and Bergman working simultaneously in the theatre, is very much aware of that. Although the extreme close ups are easier to notice and admire, Bergman has also a great arsenal of shots and camera movements that so easily uses in this film. The shots of the orchestra performing either from high above or through the musicians, shows a camera that can move constantly but also in a discreet and, one could say, abstract way. He also proves to be very capable with mise-en-scene, as deep-focus long takes are used in several scenes.

The use of music is also notable, as you will definitely see for yourselves in the remarkable montage sequence in the ending. Classical music is of course common in the director's filmography, but it follows certain stages that are worth mentioning. In his first period, in which "To Joy" is definitely included, Bergman uses pieces performed by large orchestras, grandiose in a way. And it's certainly no coincidence that in these films, a great number of characters are used for narrative purposes (surely Stig are Marta are in the foreground, but there's also the conductor, Sonderby, the mistress and her old husband, Marcel and a few others). But from early 60's on, begins a period in which Bergman uses music of a smaller scale (especially string quartets) and in these films very few characters are introduced to us and, very often, in an isolated place (e.g. Through a Glass Darkly, Silence, Persona).

If you watch carefully this film, you will see many signs of what Ingmar Bergman is going to evolve to. His dramatic approach in human relationships and his effort to capture those moments between two heartbeats, between two lovers. But also his realistic point of view, especially when it comes to marriage (as Scenes From a Marriage a good 20 years after will confirm). A very good film.

While Gosta, a seaman, arrives in Gothenburg, a young girl, Berit, makes a suicide attempt in the city harbour. After saving her, a rather promising relationship seems to begin but much work needs to be done from both of them in order to be together.

In 1948, Ingmar Bergman seems already familiar with the themes that he will never stop examining throughout his career. He observes and studies human behavior in everyday circumstances, in an effort to get a glimpse of its roots. Berit is depressed, but her situation has a long story, starting from her childhood. Growing up with a mother that never cared for anything and anyone but herself and a father that had a problem hiding his temper, she ended up in a reform school and the implications are therefore predictable. Gosta has just finished working in the ships and he finds himself working in the docks of Gothenburg, despite his ambition for something bigger. They are both in the need of a clean start in their lives, carrying their burdens from the past on the left and their dreams for the future on the right.

When they first meet, they can't possibly imagine how similar they are. In fact, they seem incapable of realizing anything because of the wall they have built around them in order to protect themselves. But she desperately needs to free herself from her mother (who impersonates all of her past) and he desperately needs to find someone to relief him from his loneliness. So, they will fight through all the difficulties for these goals. Eventually, she will learn to have some faith in other people, he will learn to forgive and they will both learn to face the past.

This film also works on a political level as the story takes place among the dock workers struggling everyday just for the essentials. Bergman himself admits the influence that the Italian Neo-Realists had on him in his first films and Port of Call is a characteristic example. It is mostly shot on location and the work in cinematography is really admirable, the black and white photography and the camera movement is stunning and Bergman proves how talented he is when it comes to framing. The leading actors give notable performances, especially Nine-Christine Jonsson.

Overall, Port of Call is an interesting film, a typical example of the first period in Bergman's filmography that will reach its climax with "Summer with Monika". The story may sound clichéd and naïve at times, but it is its honesty that engages its viewers, as well as the masterful shots of the great Swedish director.

I have no doubt that the filmmakers had great expectations about their creation. They may have thought they were delivering a new "Pulp Fiction". And I'm not making just a random reference here, since "Lucky Number Slevin" is a classic example of the disaster Tarantino's success has brought in cinema. Every year, dozens young filmmakers come out with a straight recipe of copying the Tarantino's filmic universe (that is, if we accept the existence of such a universe after a very short – so far- career of the man). However, in this particular film we shouldn't blame only the director, Paul McGuigan, who had after all warned us for his limited potentialities since his previous film "Wicker Park", where one could easily see the absence of a personal style and his tendency in stumbling in front of weak choices from the scriptwriter. Once again, a great deal of responsibility for this hollow film should be "recognized" to Jason Smilovic, who wrote the screenplay. When Tarantino made the choice of using everyday dialogue and scenes that until the dawn of the 90's the rest filmmakers would leave out without any second thoughts, he made it with a certainty. The certainty that was given to him, first of all from his wide ranged knowledge on cinema, and also from his contact with literature – more particularly with contemporary American novels from which he has borrowed his famous narrative techniques and devices. And this fertile dialogue of mediums, combined with Tarantino's intelligence, created a very distinctive signature, both on the grounds of subject and style. And "Lucky Number Slevin" lacks all these.

Someone could argue that McGuigan also starts a dialogue with cinema - Tarantino's cinema. But it's more than obvious that he hasn't got neither the talent nor the knowledge needed, so he just copies. The characters speak in between their troubles about their favorite films or about super heroes (sounds familiar?). And when we are presented with original lines, they aren't much superior than this: "I'm a world class hit-man", Bruce Willis says in one of the worst moments of his career. And that's too bad, because of the excellent cast including Morgan Freeman and Ben Kingsley, who little can do to save this mess. As leading actor, Josh Hartnett who also starred in "Wicker Park" and who Hollywood systematically promotes with no obvious reason, not even after this film (waiting for "Black Dahlia" from master Brian DePalma). So, "Lucky Number Slevin" is indeed a well made film, but one made by craftsmen. But cinema is art, not craft, and more than a hundred years after its birth, it shouldn't feel the need to prove it.