Face à face

Ingmar Bergman's films always had, or at least, most of them had, a very dark and almost horror-ish tone to them, particularly films such as "Persona" and "The Seventh Seal", both which I consider among the finest films ever made. It was no surprise that his two 'official' horror films - this one and the slightly superior "Hour of the Wolf", come across as being not only of the genre's finest, but also one of the scariest of all time. Liv Ullman gives a breathtaking performance of a psychiatrist who turns out to be just as crazy as the people she takes care of. We follow her as she is lost in the hellish labyrinth of her subconscious, and harassed by horrible demons she created herself. Meanwhile, on the outside world, her 'darker side' takes over, and her friend and co-worker, played by the great Erland Josephson, tries to save her. Ullman's gradual descent into insanity is jaw-dropping, and here she gives her most twisted, hysterical performances for the likes of Isabelle Adjani in "Possession" and Catherine Denueve in "Repulsion". For the acting and Bergman's superb direction alone the film manages to convey a sense of dread and fear unlike anything Hollywood had done to this point, and indeed, the film does make the majority of American horror films made at that time look stupid in comparison. Overall, 10/10. A masterpiece.

This movie is nothing short of of a masterpiece of dramatic power and psychological insight. If the mark of a great work of art is that it takes a lot out of you while at the same time giving you a lot, then "Face to Face" is a great film by one of the cinema's (and the theatre's) greatest directors.

During the 136-minute film we are confronted with the spectacle of an intelligent woman's soul being laid bare. It is the soul of Jenny Isakson (Liv Ullmann), a Stockholm psychiatrist, as she finds her confidently professional self-assured hold on the world slipping perilously into disarray. Liv Ullmann is of course no stranger to this type of intense Bergman role, from the mute actress of "Persona" to the defeated wife in the 1974 "Scenes form a Marriage" and in films like "Shame," "The Passion of Anna," and "Cries and Whispers." What a marvel!

For virtually the entire length of this harrowing piece, the actress is on screen, and she is such a mistress of her craft, one feels like reaching up to the screen to embrace and perhaps congratulate her. It is that kind of moving performance. The much-praised scene in which she tells Erland Josephson about an attempted rape she experienced has the intensity of an operatic aria as she shifts moods: bemused laughter, pleading sobs, hysterical abandon. It is hard to see the junctures between each emotion. They meld into an overwhelming emotional experience. This and the other collaborative efforts of Bergman and Ullman have very few parallels in the history of cinema. Some of them might be: Roberto Rossellini and Ingrid Bergman, Josef von Sternberg and Marlene Dietrich, G.W. Pabst and Louise Brooks, Federico Fellini and Giulietta Masina.

I saw this film in its original release in 1976 and to this day it haunts me as if it were a part of my past (though nothing about this film is). Liv Ullman's raw performance remains best performance by an actress in my history of filmgoing.

I saw this with friends when it was first released and twenty minutes after we had left the cinema we realized that no one had spoken. This is a masterful film with Liv Ullman's performance eclipsing any seen on screen. You feel the pain, the hurt and the confusion as you watch this woman's journey. A film for those who like intense, thought provoking and intelligent story telling.

Jenny has a successful career, a psychiatrist with a future that's clear, but her anxiety, takes her sobriety, overwhelmed with her demons and fears; open wounds born from scars as a child, generations define how she's styled, unable to break, from nightmares when awake, perpetually standing on trial; she's decided to fold and resign, stop the clock, disentangle, untwine, enough is enough, the candle must snuff, the coil must become a line.

Seldom will you encounter a performance as powerful as the one presented by Liv Ullmann as Jenny. Conveying the trauma and terror, the chaos and confusion, the despair and anguish of mental illness, alongside the inevitable pathway to escape, this is nothing short of exceptional.