The Human Voice

Cocteau's 'The Human Voice' was produced for television by David Susskind who never shied away from the controversial or the unusual. Ingrid Bergman was cast in this one woman production. Hollywood had 'forgiven' Bergman for her adultrous affair with Roberto Rosselini, when she received her Oscar for 'Anastasia' in 1957. And so, without a trace of irony, Bergman plays a woman who is trying to win back a lover who has abandoned her. Since we are on a TV set, the Cocteau's spare decor of a telephone, a desk and chair, has undergone interior decoration: Bergman is in an apartment with bedroom but nothing else seen in the flat. It is disorderly, ashtrays filled with cigarettes and ash, empty bottles, an unmade bed. Every is so arranged to set the tone, create the mood and the psychological mood of this lonely, edgy woman. Bergman brings her talents more as a plea than a declaration of love to revive the embers of a relationship that has gone cold. Cocteau, cleverly constructed the play, so that the telephone is cut and then as the connection is reestablished, Bergman's voice weakens as she tries to put on a brave face. We can imagine that his voice that we never hear is soothingly measured, perhaps not inflected, to soothe her bruised soul, since it is revealed, she has tried to kill herself. And in spurious urgency she realizes he is lying to her and that he telephoning from his new lover's place. And as fights back tears and her extreme desire to maintain contact with him, his lack of interest in her, in the end, defeats her struggle to stretch out conversation with him has reached its limit. And tearfully the human voice rings off. For French speakers, I suggest listening to Simone Signoret. For the opera lover, Francis Poulenc's one act opera.

This is what used to be called a TV Movie or Straight to TV Film. Do we categorise films this way anymore or has streaming done away with such things. It's a slight cheapening of the feature film in that the production values are much lower, the run time clipped and the expectations reduced. Now true, this is clearly filmed on different stock to what you'd expect from 60s cinema, but it's bright realism actually helps. As does the 4:3 ratio that makes modern eyes feel as trapped as the woman on screen. Ah yes, the woman. The only character here, that's seen at least. She remains simply 'A Woman' throughout, but this is Ingrid Bergman. Even if you're not a cinephile, I'm sure that name instantly suggests class and this oozes it. She awakes in a room in Hampstead according to the rotary telephone, alone for only a dog. Chain smoking and distressed. Clearly she's troubled. We're searching the room for clues as the telephone rings and we learn of her lover on the other end. We only ever hear her side of the conversation and her inner thoughts. Slowly picking through the details of events that have lead her to this frazzled person before us. Bergman is magnetic. Running through a dizzying array of emotions and portraying each magnificently. Holding the camera that only moves when it really needs to and always effortlessly. It does look very simple, but the camerawork is gorgeously understated. Interacting with Bergman like a dance partner. We learn that the lover is now a recent ex-lover. Torn photos next to the overflowing ashtray. Based on a play, it's set like a stage. A life in a small apartment single room. A bed, a chaise, a sink, a chair, a desk and a table... with the telephone. The telephone is the device by which we learn everything. Props around the room only used to heighten her distress. But the telephone is also her anchor. Whilst the conversation continues, she clings on to hope, before another wave of reality washes over her. At 50 minutes, it's essentially one long scene, playing out in real time. Giving us a window into the cruel world of a break up. Bergman was 50 when this was filmed. She looks great of course, but she uses her age to inject an extra neurosis to her panic at being left alone. It's heartbreaking stuff, as she descends further into a wallowing grief. It's hard not to project where we're headed and it's quite agonising. Every word rung for as much tension as possible, but there's an understated control here. As staged as things are, it's feels honest, truthful... and captivating.

Renowned playwright Jean Cocteau's THE HUMAN VOICE is a riveting drama that unfolds through one woman's monologue. Played by the talented and beautiful Ingrid Bergman, the protagonist a middle-aged woman who is in the midst of a psychological breakdown as a result of a recently ended love affair.

Another gem from that amazing 'BROADWAY THEATRE ARCHIVE', which brings superb stage performances of so many stars into our homes (what a pity though the USA DVD's have no -English or H.O.H.- subtitles).

Here the suave icon Ingrid Bergman enthralls in a solo-performance; we all know she is a fantastic actress, but in the 50 minutes of this one act play she completely grips the viewer and never lets go.

Next to the actress only a telephone is of importance, a dangerous apparatus since it is a device that changes the fastest in these modern times. By going back in time (this play was recorded in '66 and written well before that) the telephone must give the piece a dated feeling to it; on the other hand, in a modernized version the actress might well be using a mobile phone with the signal strength faltering occasionally, without hurting the consensus of the original play.

This televised play was aired and recorded in 1966, and it shows. Nothing terribly dodgy or weak, but the image isn't crisp and camera work isn't brilliant either.

But all that is of no importance, since Grand Dame Bergman will captivate and magnetize you !! Sweden meets France (by way of the superb play by Jean Cocteau) in an American production. It's in encounters like these true beauty can be found...

The Human Voice can probably be counted as Ingrid Bergman's best dramatic performance along with Autumn Sonata. The excellence of her performance cannot be very well expressed in words - it's better experienced. It is only possible for an actress of her calibre to portray varying emotions like utter frustration to immense love to sheer anger and all that at times within a single sentence!

As rightly put in another comment, facts like it being a play with only a single actor or that the same backdrop is used throughout does not matter, because Ingrid never lets your attention waver. She mesmerizes one & all with sheer brilliance.

Absolute recommended!