Gycklarnas afton

I first, and probably, last saw this wonderful film over 40 years ago. It has not been easy to catch again and then I think that when the time since you have last seen a favourite gets too long you begin to have concerns as to whether it will live up to your memory of it. There was particular concern here because, although in the 60s and 70s I would bore people by going on about this film whenever talk of Bergman's more well thought of films came up, this was never considered to be one of his best. Having just watched it again I am blown away all over again. I cannot believe how much of the fantastic visuals I remembered and the extent to which the power of the film is still so affecting. There is not a wasted frame, this is pure cinema throughout. The acting is stupendous, the cinematography outstanding and the bitter sweet tale so seemingly simple, yet so devastatingly all consuming. I know Bergman has made more poetic films and more profound ones but I still think this one is hard to beat for so eloquently presenting those basic issues that matter to everyone.

This is a fantastic early film made by the master of the psychological, Ingmar Bergman. This film is much easier to understand than say, Persona, Cries and Whispers, or the Seventh Seal, and therefore, I suggest this as a first-time introduction for anyone interested in learning more about his films and/or his filming technique.

This movie is quite simply, a dream. The introduction sequence is a brilliant example of Bergman's work...we see a long shot of 5 horse carriages moving across the plains at dawn, which dissolves into a reflection of a single horse & carriage in the water below a bridge, which dissolves into a series of shots...windmills, foggy paths, the carriage driver and the finally, a fade into the carriage where our protagonist, Albert Johansson, sleeps with his girlfriend Anna. Bergman is the king of the dissolve...a style he no doubt picked up from 1920's German expressionism. Bergman's mise en scene is a blend of sequences which depict a very dreamlike orientation of our immediate surrounding.The result: We are passive observers, watching the all-too-real reality of our modern world subside into something very mysterious and surreal. Bergman's style removes time from the equation of film. Time, as we know it, takes a back-seat to objects, people, and places. Real life becomes more dreamlike than any dream, and the darkest and most mysterious corner of the universe becomes the human mind.

This is a fantastic movie.

Thanks to Criterion Collection for making a sparkling fresh print of this film available on DVD. Sven Nykvist's cinematography is seen as excellent as ever, especially those brooding cloudy skies. The story moves along nicely, and Bergman's women are clearly their own people (most of the time anyway). The tawdry lives of circus folk is a film cliché, but the characters do live and breathe in this movie rather more completely than we could have hoped. Special attention should be paid to the music of Swedish Modernist composer Karl-Birger Blomdahl. Those punching dissonant chords at the beginning of the film are not unlike much of his music for the outer-space opera he wrote, "Aniara." There is a recording of that work, but it's hard to come by. But you can try to find his Symphony No. 3, "Facetter", and you'll be delighted by how it grows on you. Nevertheless, Bergman pretty much left Blomdahl behind in his subsequent work, and you can see why: Much of it doesn't really fit, which is something you can say about a lot of famous composers who try their hand at film music.

It's amazing when a film is disliked and misunderstood when released, and is then praised and labelled as a masterpiece decades later. Ingmar Bergman's 'Sawdust and Tinsel' is one of those films. I'm not exactly sure why the film was regarded so lowly, but thankfully, it is now recognised for what it is.

The film isn't quite Bergman's best, but it is certainly close. 'Sawdust and Tinsel' is a pessimistic, yet truthful study of human nature in relationships. The film's central character, Albert, is a ringmaster of a travelling circus, and is passing through the town where his wife and children are living. The pair have been separated for some time and are clearly dealing with the situation in different ways. His wife Agda has moved on. Albert is still affected and has been unfaithful to his wife, as he is travelling along with his mistress. What unfolds is an interesting character study that looks at human insecurity, disloyalty, selfishness, unhappiness and emotional strain.

It's no wonder that Ingmar Bergman is titled 'The Swedish Master'. 'Sawdust and Tinsel' is full of insight and certainly shows Bergman's talent. He does some excellent things with mirrors in certain shots and creates a lot of mood throughout the film. The highlight is, without question, one of the first scenes in which Frost, the circus clown, comes to collect his wife Alma from the ocean, where she is swimming with an army regiment. Every element works and Alma's selfishness and Frost's pain are clear in the scene, adding to the effect. Practically everything that Bergman has done in this film is excellent. The only point of criticism though, is that the cinematography is a bit hit and miss, as some scenes are too bright, giving them an overexposed look. Then again, it could be that the film has just deteriorated with age.

This is an under-appreciated film that is certainly worth viewing. It is quite hard to come by, but maybe one day, someone will do a proper release on DVD.

A flea-bitten traveling circus makes its way to a small coastal town. The ringmaster (Ake Gronberg) has grown tired of the nomadic and impoverished life of the circus, and as this was his hometown, he hopes to reconnect with the wife and children that he abandoned years earlier. Meanwhile, the ringmaster's young lover Anne (Harriet Andersson) feels rejected and considers joining a theater troupe, hoping to find comfort in the arms of handsome actor Frans (Hasse Ekman).

This early triumph from Bergman marked his first teaming with cinematographer Sven Nykvist. Their collaborations would go on to become one of the greatest between director and cinematographer in film history. This film already exhibits the Bergman/Nykvist look, with striking close-ups, atmospheric black and white compositions, and almost unearthly landscapes. The performances are good, particularly from Andersson. There's an anarchic, almost grotesque quality about the way both the circus folk and the theater troupe are presented that reminded me a bit of Fellini. Recommended.