La pasión de Ana

This is par for the course with Bergman, though. I have enjoyed all of his films that I've seen, which I admit is not many. This one touched me even more deeply than the others.

The topics touched on in this film include isolation, truth in relationships, mob mentality, but most importantly isolation from an emotional point of view. The interviews with the actors that are spliced into the film provide insight as well as divisions between sections of the narrative.

Perhaps what I liked best, however, is the inventive way the script reveals elements of the story. Sometimes a voice-over provides necessary information, and other times the information comes through the characters' conversations -- but never in an annoying "quick exposition" kind of way. For example: Although the affair between Anna and Andreas is the central story, it shows up in an odd place in the film.

But that is just one of the examples of the unusual construction that makes this film so unique and masterful. I recommend this to anyone who can read subtitles.

Disappointing after Shame, which was near-perfect. Clearly an experiment to break the third wall in a Bergman film, just not at all something I wanted from a Bergman film. I like to be completely absorbed in the reality of the situation. An improvised dinner-party scene where the actors bandy about miscellaneous pretentious ideas, mockumentary moments where "Liv Ullman" and "Max von Sydow" are interviewed about the characters just didn't work for me. I had to turn it off. Will try again at a later date maybe, but I've only just started finding Bergman films I love, this was not a good choice...

There were scenes I liked, but then I'd get dragged out of the spell by the mockumentary scenes, very strange.

4/10

Bergman is the master when it comes to dealing with the intricacies of love and relationships, this film is extraordinary in the way it slowly gives us an insight into these four lost souls as the struggle to make sense of life and try to find their way which isn't easy, the bleak landscape, the desolation, the sparse dialogue, Liv Ullemans face in close up all come together to produce an explosive emotional roller-coaster with an inevitable outcome, the violence of the characters emotions spill over into the environment in the form of an unexplained killer of dumb animals.

Where are the contemporary films to match such genius, where are the voices to guide us through the fog?

If you take a shovel, and dig right into the middle, there are things you'll likely find, quite impossible to riddle, conundrums wrapped entwined, blind alleys, sacs that bind, confusion, chaos, mayhem all well signed; encompassing them all, is the fear of standing tall, of being seen to fall, of rejection all around, the desire to be found, the need to melt into the ground, just to live as if not bound; but you're moulded in their vision, taught to be so since incision, told what, where, when, who you are, plasters, shields overlay scars, behaviours born from who knows where, send your chaos to despair, no support for your constructions, can relieve these sad contortions.

If you don't recognise something in them in you, you're in denial.

It's a movie about lying to oneself, about holding up fictions about ones life and trying to live precisely by those lies. And yet, the movie isn't as against the idea as the quick summation may imply.

Andreas lives alone on a remote island in Sweden. He's consumed by trying to maintain that isolation, especially at an emotional level. As we learn over the course of the film, he's been scarred deeply by a failed marriage, so he has embraced the idea that he deserves nothing. One day, as he's trying to fix his roof, Anna comes and asks to use his telephone. He eavesdrops on the first part of the conversation, a plea for money, until Anna begins to break down and cry when he silently edges away. She leaves, forgetting her purse, which Andreas promptly rifles through where he finds a letter from Anna's deceased husband that describes the inherent violence in their relationship.

Anna is staying with Eva and Elis, a married, occasionally unfaithful couple who invite Andreas to dinner. In a apparently improvised scene, the four each have moments to highlight their characters. Eva ends up wide-eyed and desperate for something to believe in, while Elis is a cynical man who believes in literally nothing. Each outlook has something to do with their reactions to a failed pregnancy from years before.

So, out of the four characters, three are desperate for some kind of higher truth or lie to help mask the problems in their lives, and the fourth, Elis, looks at the world through as clear a glass as possible. But, that clear vision isn't as true as he makes it out to be. He's an architect (who believes in nothing of the buildings he helps design) and amateur photography (who insists that he can't see the truth in anyone else, even as he searches intently through his photography).

As with most Bergman movies, we have clearly defined personalities that slam up against each other. Andreas and Eva begin a light affair that Andreas casts off as soon as he and Anna begin living together. Eva takes the rejection without emotion. Andreas becomes Elis' employee, typing up notes Elis makes for his architectural work. In the background, there are a string of violent actions taken against animals, including a Dachshund hung by a very precisely tied noose and nearly a dozen sheep slaughtered for no reason. The brutal acts are never explained (though a local hermit is accused, beaten, and then commits suicide because of the suspicion around him), but I think it's eminently obvious that it was Elis. He admits to a fascination in violence, pointing out boxes of photos that show violent acts, but without a solid belief system other than some thin nihilism, he seems like the perfect culprit to decide that torturing animals is a path to finding truth.

All of this is highly intellectual, an exploration of fantasy overriding reality in different forms, but how does it play as a movie? The answer is very well, of course. Bergman was, among other things, a great filmmaker in general. His relationships with actors allowed to extra very raw performances. His knowledge of what to film, whether extremely tight closeups of his actors' faces or subtle combinations of images to create the illusion of multiple suns in the sky is fantastic. Bergman uses all of his skill to tell this intellectual story intimately and on very human terms.