Una vampata d'amore

Ingmar Bergman has left a reputation as one of the premier cynics of the cinema. A lifelong agnostic, he always held the belief that God did not exist and this life offers little, if any condolences to counter that feeling.

After experimenting with various genres and trying to find his niche in the late 1940s, Bergman slowly began to establish himself as the finest Swedish film director ever known. This film, released in 1953, reminds me in many ways of the great Federico Fellini's 1954 film La Strada, also about a circus troupe and also focusing on the relationship between the aging circus leader and his female companion. Despite this common ground, the two great directors differ in that Fellini turns his attention to the joy and zest of performing and the difficulties that still lie within. With Bergman, troubles always abound and there is no shortage of sadness and sorrow. Indeed, none of these characters are truly happy in the way of the definition. Yet, they continuously search for some sort of satisfaction and happiness. Life is a long, sluggish journey that may never find its ultimate goal.

Despite the downbeat tone, Bergman was a fantastic cameraman and his early films show him finding his footing, foreshadowing the great films he would make later in his career. Here, his collaboration with the great cinematographer Sven Nykvist has its beginnings as we see some fantastic angles, mirror shots and uses of depth of focus and framing. The acting is terrific, particularly by Harriet Andersson, and the script supports the story well. A small gem, but nevertheless a gem from the great Swedish director Ingmar Bergman.

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.

While traveling in caravan through the country of Sweden, one member of the decadent Alberti Circus tells the owner and ringmaster Albert Johansson (Åke Grönberg) a sad story about the clown Frost (Anders Ek): seven years ago, his wife Alma (Gudrun Brost) was surprised by him bathing naked in a lake with a regiment. When the circus arrives in the town where Albert's wife Agda (Annika Tretow) and sons live, he decides to pay a visit with his young mistress Anne (Harriet Andersson) to a famous local troupe to borrow some capes, hats and vests for their tonight show. They are humiliated by the director Mr. Sjuberg (Gunnar Björnstrand), but he lends the pieces, and the lead actor Frans (Hasse Ekman) gives an unsuccessful pass on Anne. When Albert decides to visit Agda, the jealous Anne meets Frans, who seduces her with an apparently valuable necklace, and they have a love affair. Anne finds that the necklace is actually worthless and returns to the circus. Meanwhile, Agda refuses to accept Albert back and he sees Anne leaving the theater and going to the jewelry. During the exhibition, Albert and Anne are submitted to humiliations by Frans.

"Gycklarnas Afton" is a dark and unpleasant story of the cruelty of mankind, where losers, desperate people without any perspective in life, are humiliated by the cruel human beings, reaching the lowest human condition. The clown Frost and his decadent wife Alma; the aging and tired owner of the circus trying reconciliation with his former wife to have a stable life; the mistress Anne trying to find another man to support her; all of them stuck together in a decadent circus due to the lack of perspective in life and courage of committing suicide. The cinematography in black and white is amazingly beautiful, and the introduction sequence, with the caravan moving in the dawn, is very similar to Brazilian classic "O Cangaceiro" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0045595/), of the same year. Harriet Andersson is extremely sexy and gorgeous in the role of Anne. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "Noites de Circo" ("Nights of Circus")

It's undoubtedly true, as has been pointed out in a newsgroup review, that the characters in this film are not particularly likable. I have never been able to understand why that should necessarily work against a film's worth or effectiveness, though. Profound darkness seems to me an integral part of Bergman's work, at least the earlier films like this one. If you're looking for action, adventure, or romance, you're certainly barking up the wrong tree here, and the idea of identifying with the characters in this film scares the hell out of me. Maybe it's just not suited to some viewer's personalities.

You're not likely to come across `Sawdust and Tinsel' much these days, unless it's at an art-house, museum or festival screening, or on video. Here in the U.S., Public Television used to show Bergman films in the distant past. That time is long gone, but I can well remember seeing it on TV as a kid, and its imagery lingered in my mind like a vivid nightmare. The black and white cinematography, with wonderful use of darkness and silhouettes, makes it a very beautiful-looking film, but it is unrelentingly dark and gloomy.

Not for everybody, but it is what it is, and Bergman is Bergman. Its dream-like imagery and brutal, primal view of human nature can leave a deep impression, especially on impressionable viewers. This is undoubtedly why having seen it when growing up, I've never forgotten it. Though it doesn't seem to be particularly well-regarded these days, I regard it as great and powerful cinema in the Bergman/Nykvist tradition. At the very least, its cinematography should be well-appreciated by anyone who admires the look of films like `The Virgin Spring, ` or `The Silence.'