El rito

Imagine that, in 1969, on BBC2, say, an experimental 'Play for Today' was featured, involving various acts of a drama that revolved around three very different actors who are interviewed very rigorously by a 'judge'.

There are various accusations highlighted and all become, or are, squirmingly intrusive, with many very personal subjects being quite explicitly examined. Add a documentary feeling use of static interview room/single set location and with uncomfortably close close-ups, in a rather unflattering greyish sort of black and white.

Considering these 'crimes' border on the uglier emotions and typically Bergman, the dialogue crackles with poetic starkness and honesty, then the Mary Whitehouse brigade of the day would have had a field day. My reference to this, is because The Rite was a drama made for Swedish TV, directed by Bergman and featuring some typically gritty and honest acting. I bet that the TV audience there would have been receptive and revelled in its clever psychotherapy and fascinating insight into human persona. Us Brits would only have seen the 'grubby' bits and blown them out of all proportion.

Whilst this 72minute drama looks odd and dated now - and the few other reviews around almost dismiss this work accordingly, it now comes out as a fascinating but intense montage of human condition and behaviour.

Pros: 1. The aspect ratio of 1.33 : 1 and the usage of close-ups help add weight to the drama and tension, as it provides a more personal feel to the film. 2. There are no weak performances. Ingrid Thulin (Thea Winkelmann), Erik Hell (Judge Dr. Abrahamson), Gunnar Björnstrand (Hans Winkelmann) all deliver great performances. Anders Ek (Sebastian Fisher) in particular is phenomenal. 3. The dialogue is intense, well-written, and enthralling to listen to. 4. The rape scene is suitably uncomfortable and impactful to watch. 5. There is an appropriate insertion of an eerily disturbing and ominous score. 6. The last 12 minutes are captivating and serve as a satisfying end for Judge Dr. Abrahamson.

Cons: 1. The movie at times is a little too slow-paced, despite its relatively short run-time. 2. The editing and cutting is a little too abrupt at times.

Made for television during what is probably Bergman's most innovative period, around the same time as Persona, Shame, A Passion, and Cries and Whispers. Three actors, played by Bergman regulars Gunnar Bjornstrand, Anders Ek, and Ingrid Thulin, are brought up on an obscenities charge in an unnamed European country. A judge (Erik Hell) interviews them over a period of several days, first all together, and then each one separately. We also see scenes of the actors outside of these interviews interacting in pairs (never all three together). There is also a scene in which the judge visits a priest, in a re-enactment of a certain scene from The Seventh Seal, the one where Antonius Block confesses his chess strategy to death. Here, Bergman himself plays the priest/death (in the interview book Bergman on Bergman, he jokingly brags that he got paid extra for having a speaking part in the film). The film as a whole is difficult, as are the other films around this period. But it is an amazing film when taken scene for scene. It's a showcase for these amazing actors. Thulin, Bjornstrand, and Ek are amazing as these absolutely deranged characters. Ek plays the most arrogant person in the world, and he has a little problem with pyromania. Thulin, who is married to Bjornstrand but sleeps exclusively with Ek, has some serious mental problems (and a wig that makes her look like Anna Karina from Vivre sa vie). Her neuroses make Woody Allen seem relatively calm. Bjornstrand is a desperate character who wants to get away from his wife and her lover (also his best friend), but he's not sure if he can live without her. The Rite is actually quite graphic. There are a few very erotic scenes, and Thulin was never more desirable. In one scene, Ek asks Bjornstrand how he can bring Thulin to orgasm, and the description made me blush, of all people. The film would probably have been rated X in the United States. Needless to say, it would never appear on television! When it was originally broadcast, Bergman had a disclaimer placed before it telling everyone that they might want to read or go to the movies instead of watch The Rite! 9/10.

I'm one of those: Ingmar Bergman is a true artist, a great filmmaker who's connection with the brightness and deepest darkness of human nature, of faults with religion, with close relationships, horrors of the mind, dreams, was so strong that it's hard to believe that he made so much and didn't succumb sooner to his most dogged troubles- death. In the case of the Rite, it's basically an experiment. He has ten scenes, four actors (not counting himself in an uproarious cameo appearance/in-joke on the Seventh Seal as a priest), and a lot of sado-masochistic psychology to work with. There aren't quite as many monologues as in Persona, and not the same depth of a relationship ala Scenes From a Marriage. But for the most part, the Rite works well as another exploration of Bergman's into the frayed mindset of actors, the discombobulated circumstances they get themselves into personally that mucks them up in the real world. Only the theater is their strange refuge, might be the message here, if there is one.

One thing's for certain, among the many performances that Bergman stock-company members Bjornstrand and Thullin have given in past films (Winter Light maybe their best pairing), the Rite provides them some of their best work. It might be almost too easy considering the material- a married couple that is completely miserable, full of the kind of bile that is found in the worst boils- and brought to a more succinct point by the actor Anders Ek (who has also been in a couple other Bergman flicks, notably Seventh Seal as the Monk), who might be the most exhaustedly p-o'd actor one's ever seen. They're all on trial for some Kafkaesque reason by a judge (Erik Hell) who is making their nerves totally on edge with his insistence on all the 'facts' coming in. The scenes particularly with him and Thulin are explosive, and even shocking to a point, where as before there's been subtlety and insinuation.

As it stands, approximately 9/10ths of The Rite is close to vintage Bergman as one could hope for, coming out of a period in the 60s where he plunged into a deconstructionist approach that found him working at full-steam (Persona, Shame, and Hour of the Wolf are some of the most daring 'art-house' films ever conceived and executed), and considering this as just an exercise is nothing to sneeze at...That being said, there is that final scene in the office I can't get out of my head, and unlike other times with Bergman I'm not sure it's such a good thing. It's a turning-the-tables scene where the actors come in costumes and masks ala Eyes Wide Shut and freak the f*** out of the judge, and Hell (no pun intended) goes into a rant about how wrong he was and how he sees that he's just a lawyer who didn't want to do this and that and so on. And it just doesn't feel the same as the rest of the material in the film, an 'off' quality, despite (or in spite) of the fact that on its own it's a truly outrageous thing to see: the costumes are sado-masochism incarnate, with a certain appendage that is ridiculous, and a bowl of wine that is obvious symbolically.

Maybe someday if I re-watch the Rite I'll come to admire or find something else about the scene that works better, but for now it's the only thing that is really a bugger about what is otherwise an exemplary work of cinematic theater. If you can find it somewhere in your local video store (emphasis on 'video', it's not available on DVD), and are already head-deep in the master of Scandinavian motion pictures, it's worth it.

Seven stars. This isn't essential Bergman by any means. But it's well worth watching for Bergman fans. The tiny cast (four speaking parts, with Bergman himself as a silent priest) and the staging show Bergman's connection to the theatre. But the way it's shot is pure art-house. Nothing but near shots and extreme close-ups. And all that intricate framing! Things like the shots of both Thulin and Bjornstrand (two Bergman regulars, going back to the early 50s, in absolutely knock-out performances) with Erik Hell's arms around them, coming down from above. Or the framing of the actors against the carefully chosen backgrounds in the backstage scene. Any one who comes into this thinking it's going to be a standard narrative film will be utterly lost by scene 2. It's a cinematic fable. Complete with a "moral" at the end. Bergman made this in 1969 (for TV! Think about that, given the costuming in the last scene), in the middle of a period when he was making genre pictures, and clearly wasn't sure of what he was up to. After the monumental (if flawed) Persona, he stumbled for about six years before he roared back with Cries and Whispers. This film fits squarely in with The Hour of the Wolf (gothic horror), Shame (Bergman does a war film) and The Passion of Anna (an experimental film about disintegrating relationships), as movies that strike me as experiments for Bergman to work out what he wants to do. So let's strip things down to the barest minimum -- four actors, no sets to speak of, no story in any obvious sense. Instead we get this Kafka-like situation, in which a group of artists are being questioned by an official about something in their show. No one ever talks about it directly. In fact, no one ever talks about ANYTHING directly. Even Abrahamson's confession just beats around the bush. And then we get that last scene. . . . 24 May 2024.