Après la répétition

This is a brilliant work of art - it manages to be both an outstanding piece of theatre captured on film and an equally engaging film about theatre. There is no plot in a conventional sense, and absolutely no action. Instead, Erland Josephson, utterly convincing in his role as an aging theatre director, quietly and with ruthless honesty interacts with both his current new star and an actress from his personal and professional past. During this interplay, the director on the screen (speaking for the director behind the camera?) explains his love for actors and the theatre, while simultaneously modeling and undermining the sense of alienation that he feels he needs to have in order to get his job done in this world that he loves. At the same time, his young star examines her reasons for acting, and the woman from his past presents yet another take on the function of theatricality.

The dialogue is, as always with Bergman, perfect; the film is saturated with ideas; and the simple stage where every moment of the film takes place works in two directions at once, reminding us that we are watching a performance even while it insists we are also seeing "real" people at work.

Bergman is always amazing in his ability to express, in films that are set in singular specific locations, deep emotions and concepts that are nonetheless universal - in this film he gives us a little bonus, an insight into the motives behind manufacture of representation itself.

This is only my second Ingmar Bergman viewing, the first being the magnificent "Seventh Seal", which left me with a long lasting impression. Perhaps it is not fair to compare this little ditty to the impressive, thoughtful epic that was the former film, but it was with such unrealistic expectations that I started watching "After the Rehearsal".

Unfortunately, I left the film disappointed and indifferent. The plot revolves around an aging play director's relation to his young lead actress, and concerns itself with acting, the personal relations of people in the profession, parenthood and estrangement. Alas, I'm afraid even my simplistic presentation makes the film sound far more interesting than it really is. In the end, "After the Rehearsal" only amounts to a monotonous (if articulate) study of romantic and interpersonal manipulation. I suppose viewers interested in acting and the theater might find something of interest in this movie, especially concerning the issues of what it means to act and direct, and how it affects persons of the field.

Personally, however, I was not engaged at all to the characters' petty personal issues, nor could I project parallels to issues larger than their own particular microcosm from their mundane -if eloquent- verbal sparring. If the "Sevent Seal"'s characters could be likened to those of Dostoyevsky's literature, "After the Rehearsal"'s protagonists would be more similar to Oscar Wilde's aestheticists and their monologues. Who do you prefer?

Here's an interesting little movie with a cast of three, set entirely on a stage, and that jumps backwards and forwards in time.

Henrik is a theater director spending some time alone on the stage after a rehearsal of A Dream Play by August Strindberg. He wants to collect himself before he returns to his domicile to take a nap prior to that night's rehearsal. As he sits there, one of his actresses, Anna, arrives on stage with a thin story of looking for a bracelet. What follows is a long conversation between the two that swirls around topics as it operates as some kind of seduction, direction, and exploration of the other.

About a third of the way through, something happens that is quite jarring at first. Another woman shows up on stage. This is Rakel, Anna's mother who has been dead for ten years. Anna sits on the couch watching the scene without moving or speaking, and we soon deduce that Henrik is playing out a conversation he had had with Rakel eleven years before, just prior to her death.

Rakel was a great actress in her day. She played the same role Anna is playing to great acclaim, but she had Anna and quit acting. At the time of the conversation, she's living in a hospital and the small role she's playing (the mother) is almost an act of pity on the part of Henrik. He used to love her, but she spurned his affections before. However, in this conversation, she throws herself at him, and Henrik cannot stand it. He eventually makes an empty promise to follow her to her room, but we get the impression that there's going to be no encounter.

The conversation returns to Anna as Henrik takes up the exact same position he had been in when Rakel had walked on, implying that what we had seen was just a memory that had passed in a flash. In this final third of the film, souls are bared and dark revelations of Anna's recent past come out. There are protestations of love and hate. It's a swirl of emotions that's surprisingly effective.

The movie ends when the camera suddenly cuts to a new view we haven't seen before. The movie has almost entirely shot with cameras from the audience pit, but the final shot is to the stage from the side. We see a giant brick wall and the director and young actress small against it. The conversation even changes tenor becoming more professional in nature than emotional. Something's drastically changed.

Early in the movie, Henrik talks about how he's willing to do anything to work with actors (whom he loves) in order to help them reach their potential. He looks like he's playing in their field, but he's never really involved. So, at that final shot, those words came back to me, and I asked, "Was it all an act?" Were the high emotions and swings all about directing his actor?

It's an interesting exploration of the relationship between directors and actors, something obviously intimately familiar to Bergman. Watching the movie, it became obvious how Bergman could strike up so many affairs with so many of his actresses, and, at the same time, how they could all fall apart in the end. Still, the movie is a little insular to acting specifically which limits its broad appeal. It's a good little movie, a fascinating little footnote in Bergman's career.

Here's a bit of an odd confession. I'm starting to like this Ingmar Bergman guy. Mind you, I've only seen two of his films (the other being Cries and Whispers) but he knows how to make a film, let me tell ya! After the Rehearsal is a great movie that makes you think, while marveling how clever the whole thing is. A theater director (played by Erland Josephson) is putting together a production called "The Dream Play". One of his actresses (Lena Olin) stays behind to talk to him about past experiences, his life and hers, and other existential topics. He does the same. A little while later an older actress comes on the scene, and essentially talks the same talk, only a little older but definitely not wiser. The interesting thing about this is, is that both women don't acknowledge the other.. So what's that about? Was this the same woman, only years later? Did these women exist at all, or are we indeed watching a "dream play" already? So many fascinating theories, I love it when a movie does that to me. The movie somewhat lags during the third act, but let me tell you, Bergman KNOWS how to end movies, like in Cries and Whispers and this one, it leaves some questions unanswered for us to figure out by ourselves, and Bergman seems to rejoice yanking us away from the story to go to the credits, which is great.

I want to see more! I will see more! Yay!

Essentially a playwright, adapted for the cinema, first as a screenwriter and then combining this role with that of director, Ingmar Bergman left an impressive cinematographic work but even more extensive in the theater, whether writing, adapting and directing other people's plays.

In the final phase of his career, he dedicated himself mainly to the theater and the few films he made, after the biopic that was Fanny & Alexander in 1982, were mere adaptations for the cinema or television of theater plays.

This is undoubtedly the case of this "After the Rehearsal" from 1984, which has only three characters and was filmed entirely on a stage, with a single set.

In retrospect, and considering everything that has been written and debated about Bergman since his death, particularly with regard to his relationship with the many actresses he worked with, one would say that this film is clearly autobiographical and reveals the author's sadness in dealing with old age, particularly with regard to his relationship with actresses, who continue to tempt him and seduce him, but to whom he no longer has anything to offer, other than his experience and his ability to make them blossom on stage or on screen.

A feeling shared by most men over fifty, especially those accustomed to a hectic love life, like Bergman, who was married five times and had nine children from five different women, including wives and more informal relationships.

The work is insightful and intelligent, as it could not be otherwise, with Bergman as the author, and the actors are the usual Erland Josephson and Ingrid Thulin, always magnificent, joined by a younger Lena Olin, who had already played supporting roles with Bergman since 1976, but makes her debut here, with a leading role, which would open doors for her future international career.

This is Bergman at his best, but in a static, theatrical, not very cinematic format. It is worth it for the script and performances, but as a film, it feels like too little. After all, is cinema just filmed theater, as Manoel de Oliveira believed?