En passion

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.

I think, En passion is indeed not a perfect film, but who likes perfection? In fact, I think, up to now, it belongs in Bergman's top 10 and is a great addition to the issues argued in Vargtimmen, Skammen and Rite. All these characters here are not really authentic, but one: Verner, the old man suspected by the villagers on that island to be the animal abuser, and therefore excruciated. Everyone else, including Andreas, Anna and the couple they are friends with, are people who call for problems, get entrapped by them and catapult themselves into an almost-catastrophe. It's interesting that Verner, writes to Andreas, who seems to be the worst of all, i.e. most un-authentic, a suicide note, saying: "I can't look into anyone's eyes anymore", is, to my understanding, the key to the film - self-made problems contrasted with problems created externally. Given Verner's suicide, driven by slander and torture, Andreas' and Anna's issues in their relationship fade, normally, but then an axe gets involved, a stable burns down and a horse runs off, ablazed, kindled by the real animal tormentor who still is on the loose. An inferno.

What I like most about this film, though, is its situational context: the island. I can't think of another Bergman film where the environment plays a bigger role than here. All figures are moving in a lost, iced vastness, in defoliated, sparse woods, get stuck in morass and dirt. Animals get brutally tortured and killed, wood gets chopped, wagons bog down in mud. The forlornness and menace of the people in nature is wonderfully captured by Nykvist, mostly in long, high-angle or panoramic shots and is an intriguing contrast to the interior (of the cottages, where the talking, cheating and fighting takes place) - inside there lurks the psychic, outside there's the physical death. That is a great imagery. However, I'm not satisfied with these interview snippets which I think is a nice idea (such as Bergman's verbal directions in the off in Vargtimmen), but it's executed quite poorly.

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.

Bergman is a name one hears so often, and it is so associated with slowness and close-ups that he's intimidating even before one gets to watch him. I picked this movie off the shelf just as I could have picked any other of his movies, and since I haven't seen others, I wouldn't know how to compare this to the rest of his work.

But I liked it, I really liked it. I didn't find it as 'slow' as much as 'focused,' where even the twitch of an eyebrow or a glance to the left is an action. This minuteness was truly amazing. In a lot of ways it reminded me of Bresson's Journal of a Country Priest. Because of this minuteness, I also found it very cruel and raw. I am particularly thinking of the scenes with the animals (not only the sheep, but the dog as well, and especially the bird).

And I have to say something about the colors. They were amazing, so warm and so different from the narration, which was in itself detached and indifferent (maybe 'disinterested' is a better word). The light was amazing (like what seemed like an eternal sunset when Eva and Andreas have dinner). If this were a painting I suppose it would be realist or naturalist work, but the way the interviews cut in make it hyper-realist. Other reviewers have criticized this but I found it as adding depth to the characters, because it gave them a new, real, life.

The English title is misleading though, because it forces the viewer to focus on Anna, whereas the original title doesn't do that. I found myself waiting for things to happen to Anna until I found out that there was no reason for that to happen.

I am very happy to have seen this, and will definitely not shy away from watching more Bergman movies.

"A Passion" is one of Ingmar Bergman's underrated classics (inaccurately titled "The Passion of Anna" in the U.S.) and includes one of cinema's great movie endings. "Identity" is one of the primary themes of the film, and the film concludes with Max von Sydow's broken Andreas pacing back and forth in the frame--in an empty, bleak landscape. As the camera pulls back, Bergman (or rather, Nykvist) optically moves in--creating an effect where the image "flattens out" and Andreas literally dissolves into the grain of the film. Brilliant!