Gritos y susurros

The idea of this film that is considered by many as Bergman's crown achievement came to him in his house at Faro where he lived by himself for sometime in a melancholy state of mind after a rather painful breakup. One image kept coming to him and it was a very vivid and persistent image of a red room (red walls, red furniture) and four women sitting at the window in the room and dressed by the fashion of the beginning of the 20th century. He could not shake the image out of his mind and he knew that the only way to deal with it would be to start writing about the women – who were they, what was their relationship, their lives, their fates?.. He also knew that should the movie be made of his writing, the dominating color of it would be red. Bergman talked with affection and gratitude about his friend and long time collaborator Swen Nykwist who spent many days creating the passionate haunting red world of "Cries and Whispers. The title came to Bergman from one of the reviews on a Mozart's sonata (he does not remember which one). The sonata was described as sounds of cries and whispers…

"Cries and Whispers" is about pain, death, love, lust, hate, and self-loathing. There are more than one scene in the film that I found unbearable, horrifying and depressing. In the same time, it is about beauty and power of life, every minute of it - how little we appreciated it until it is too late. Typical Bergman's subjects, Bergman's actresses giving amazing performances, strikingly beautiful – it even hurts your eyes cinematography by Sven Nykvist - typical Bergman's masterpiece - what less do we expect from him? I admire the brilliance of it: acting, cinematography, Bergman's simple but devastating approach to Death as an inevitable part of life. The ending is heartbreaking - with Harriet's face and her words from beyond the grave about appreciating every minute of life...

Powerful and devastating film.

I generally don't like using 'it has its merits' to describe a film. If it's not a backhanded compliment, a diplomatic way of saying 'it doesn't suck eggs but comes awful close to it', then it's just short of that. But 'it has its merits' is all the good will I can muster for a movie where the liveliest thing about it is the fire-engine red of the walls and drapes. A crushing deadly bore for most of its duration, the movie suddenly jumps to life through grotesque shenanigans somewhat atypical for Bergman before settling back to its catatonic stupor. My problem with it is not slowness of pace. If blockbuster extravaganzas where terrorists hold entire cities at ransom and secret agents battle supervillains in space stations orbiting around Earth need a fast breakneck pace to sustain our interest as they sprawl their way around aerial shots of the Pentagon and Monte Carlo, then it's only fair that narrative time be stretched out to allow us to observe the subtle shades and minutest nuances of human psychology. But Cries and Whispers doesn't earn that slow pace. Bergman keeps his usual soliloquys at a bare minimum but doesn't have anything with which to fill that absence. The scene near the end where the two sisters visit dead Agnes in her deathbed hammers home the same point as the entire first half of the film. And how about the denouement with Agnes' reverie in the garden? Was it meant to be cynical (her last happy memory of peace and tranquility was with people who would show indifference and coldness to her in her waning days) or bittersweet hopeful (small moments of happiness is the best one can expect from life but they're worth all the pain and anguish)? Good acting and cinematography aside, such enduring staples in Bergman's career that would more shine with their absence than their presence, the movie doesn't have a particularly profound insight into human nature to depart.

It was a haunting and shattering film experience, as promised.

I've never before seen a Bergman film, however, judging by the praise awarded to "Cries and Whispers," I decided to try this one out first. And I couldn't have been more rewarded. The film, even though it clocked in at a short ninety-one minutes, I estimate less than half of those minutes contained dialogue. As Gloria Swanson put it in "Sunset Boulevard," they "had faces." And how they used them! The facial expressions and mannerisms the characters in this film used were breathtaking. Going from Liv Ullman's smug, teasing grin in her flashback scene with the doctor to Ingrid Thulin's anguish-cum-rhapsody in the scene with the broken class (that undoubtedly stays in the minds of all who see the film for one reason or another!) is truly incredible. Each character uses their body language to convey the meaning of their characters and their situations. In fact, I could have watched the film in Swedish without English subtitles and still have known perfectly well what was going on. The dialogue was truly superfluous and unnecessary. Combining the characters' body language with Bergman's masterful use of color to convey the personalities of the characters as well as their environment in general is something that (1) I've scarcely, if ever, seen used in a film before and (2) could not stop marvelling at its brilliance.

The performances were top notch. All of the performances by the four leading ladies were exceptional and perfect in every way. The homoeroticism that pervades the film is perfectly captured by the ladies in a manner that is not sexual, but rather something the farthest possible being from sexuality.

I do not even need to speak of Sven Nykvist's cinematography beyond that it is perfection incarnate.

I am now convinced that Bergman is a master, and I cannot wait to see another of his films! Sure, the film is depressing and certainly is not for those who think that "The Italian Job" is the best film of the year, however, for those who can just watch the relationships of the sisters unfold in all its splendor and anguish, this is truly a work of art rivalling those of any medium.

MY RATING: 10/10 (and I don't give tens lightly)

HIGHLIGHTS: Liv Ullmann, Harriet Andersson, Ingrid Thulin, Kari Sylwan, Sven Nykvist's cinematography, Bergman's use of color and his direction in general

Cocooned within a shell, an echo chamber close to hell, as your resonance rebounds, and your conscious thoughts just hound; in a prison made so strong, it encases all lifelong, only two ways to escape, one involves a lifelong wait; though you put on a brave face, mask reality with grace, to remain a little distant, the façade is inconsistent; it's the curse of who you are, the situational bazar, as you're nurtured to be who, the polar opposite of you.

Ingrid Thulin is immense, Harriet Andersson is outstanding, Liv Ullmann is brilliant, the direction and cinematography surreal, the story far from pleasant and often full of pain.

Death is one of those things that no one really likes to talk about. When a family member or loved one is terminally ill, the lives of all that surround the individual change, sometimes forever.

This film deals with a terminally ill woman, her devoted servant, and the woman's two sisters, brought together by the tragedy. As the women live through the last days of their dying sister, the superficial layers of each begin to disintegrate, and we eventually see the very core of their being --and it isn't always pretty.

Also not pretty are the deathbed scenes. I found them harrowing, painful and frighteningly realistic. No one at the bedside had any sense of the purpose of so much pain -- not even the priest.

Bergman uses silence like other directors use explosions. The ticking and chiming of the clock are almost startling as time drags on and on. Everyone waits for the inevitable, and the inevitable takes it time.

The cinematography is extraordinary, as is the use of color. Red is used to an almost overwhelming degree, but also used to perfection. When I think of red, several ideas or images come to mind, such as blood, passion, and heat. Each of these are presented in various degrees in this film.

The redeeming figure in this film is the servant. Her love for the dying woman is completely unconditional and selfless. It was for her grief that I wept.