Il rito

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.

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.

This is a somewhat odd and enigmatic film from Bergman; perhaps in keeping with many of the other films that he produced during the mid-to-late 1960's, and one that seems to be an extension of the artistic and psychological themes established in his more widely-acknowledged masterpiece, Persona (1966). Like that particular film, The Rite (1969) is a carefully structured drama built around a small cast of characters warring with one another in a close and claustrophobic environment that stresses the theatrical nature of the script. By refusing to extend on the material as many other filmmakers would when adapting one of their own works from stage to screen, Bergman creates a much tighter situation that gives the drama a stark, nightmarish quality that removes us completely from reality. Here, we are isolated with these characters, with all notion of the outside world or life beyond those drab, grey, minimalist locations having been removed completely, creating a void that overwhelms us.

The film also extends on some of the director's more recognisable themes, such as performance and persecution, with the idea of actors playing actors creating a performance that is not simply a part of the film, but also a comment upon it. It's perhaps a little clumsy in some places, especially compared to the aforementioned Persona, or indeed, similarly themed films like Hour of the Wolf (1966) and A Passion (1968); with the deeply enigmatic nature and theatrical presentation working towards an incredibly cold and uncomfortable atmosphere that never quite explains itself. I suppose this is a result of the short-running time and the fact that it was produced quickly and cheaply for Swedish television. However, it is still an incredibly bold piece of work, and one that definitely needs to be experienced by those with a real taste and admiration for the filmmaker; with the typically "Bergmanesque" themes and the strong performances and intense and troubling characterisations created by the cast making this a much more interesting and rewarding film than the brief plot outline might suggest.

The structure of the film is intended to somewhat distance us from the drama in a way that many of Bergman's better films would. Here, he uses chapter headings to disrupt the narrative; bringing to our attention the theatrical nature of the presentation and the artificiality of the world to, in effect, remove us from it. It works on a similar level to the self-reflexive interview sequences that punctuate the narrative of the previous A Passion, albeit, on a much more subtle level. Again, it is intended to add a further dimension to the film, but also to make the viewing process even more difficult. It also denies us a central character, with both the central government figure and the three performers all moving from hateful to sympathetic from one scene to the next. There are also at least two scenes that seem to be even further disconnected from reality. One such scene involves the youngest of the performers setting fire to his hotel room, lying back on his bed with his sunglasses on and staring up at the ceiling with a cool detachment as the room is engulfed by flames. It is never referred to or explained whether this scene actually takes place or if it is merely symbolic; though I suppose it could be read on an analytical level in regards to that particular character and his somewhat damaged and detached personality.

The second scene I won't go into, as it's one of the most important moments in the film. However, it is interesting how it sets up the atmosphere for that troubling and enigmatic finale, which again, is never fully explained and seems to sway the film away from the performers and more towards the self-appointed judge. There's a definite Kafka-like influence developed here, not only with the characters but with the situation that they find themselves in. So, we have a small group of characters put on trial for what we later learn are "obscenity charges", but the actual scenes between the judge and the performers seems to be much more cryptic and personal. If you're fond of the mind games and psychological role-playing developed in Persona then you should get a real thrill out of the five interview scenes that form the backbone of the film in question, with each character playing up to their own emotional strengths and weaknesses whilst finding themselves in this hopeless and incomprehensible situation.

Given the nature of the film I won't discuss the ending too much, though suffice to say it changes the way we look at those preceding scenes and seems to open up the narrative to further ideas of self-reflexive interpretation. So, we have the idea of a film within a film, or perhaps something more literal. Or is it a metaphor for the struggle of creativity in the face of government oppression. Indeed, at the time this film was made, Bergman was fighting his own battles against both theatre and cinema and how they were being developed back in Sweden at this particular time. It seems like he had lost faith in his audience and those who were paying for his work to be developed and these fears and anxieties are presented in the film alongside a rage of fury and aggression. For certain, this is a dark, troubling and enigmatic psychological piece that rewards patient viewers with a thought-provoking, Kafkaesque moral dilemma with room for personal interpretation.

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.

Rite, The (1969)

*** 1/2 (out of 4)

A judge (Erik Hell) asks three actors (Gunnar Bjornstrand, Anders Ek, Ingrid Thulin) to enter his chamber for individual questioning so he can determine whether their performance is obscene or not. While the play their acting in is the main reason for questioning, the three actors as well as the judge have other issues to deal with as well. This was the first film Ingmar Bergman made for television and I really wasn't expecting too much and was honestly shocked at how well the film worked considering there's no real story to deal with. The dialogue is wonderfully written and Bergman's bleak direction builds a nice little atmosphere. The rest of it is up to the four actors who all deliver very good performances. Bergman even appears in one scene playing a Priest. It's also rather funny to see what could be shown on Swedish television back in 1969. There's no way in hell this thing could play in America today let alone way back then.