gleywong
Joined May 2001
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gleywong's rating
"Karin's Face" was shown as part of the Bergman retrospective organized by the National Gallery, the American Film Institute, and the National Museum of Women in the Arts. It was paired with his 1958 "Brink of Life" in an insightful match.
This is a surprising and lovely film, and thoroughly engrossing, given its brief length. Shot and framed with exquisite care, it validates a favorite past time and the value of looking at old photographs of family members to gain insight into one's self.
Amassing as many of the old photos as he could of his parents and grandparents, their relatives and offspring, Bergman takes long, lingering views of their faces, their hands, the expressions in their eyes and mouths, registering for us all, something special in the faces of siblings and relatives young and old. These are long loving looks, with no narration, just a piano playing a simple slightly abstract tune. It was quite moving to see, just through juxtaposition, what Bergman could lead us to think about how he regards his mother, father, aunts, uncles, cousins, -- anyone who was pictured, including himself as a boy.
This film recalled the movie "Best Intentions," of 1992, because the actors in that film really looked like his parents. What was striking in gazing at these photographs, was that Bergman's father had the more feminine face, with his soft features, large eyes, and receding chin; whereas his mother had the more masculine face, smaller eyes, strong jaw, intelligent but not stern. She was quite a beauty when young (her mother opposed the marriage, as in the movie) and being a parson's wife took its toll on her beauty, but instilled great character in her face, which never grew hard, as some faces can in old age.
Of particular interest was the fact that many of the faces of his relative had traits of the actresses, especially, that he favored, their expressions recalling them uncannily. One face looked very much like Liv Ullmann, and Bibi Andersson's features seem to resemble something of his mother's when she was young.
The simplicity and power of this film, its rhythm and pacing, earn Bergman a new epithet as a conductor, so musical did the entire piece seem to this viewer. Definitely recommended to all film goers who appreciate character development in cinema and abhor its absence in so many of today's films.
This is a surprising and lovely film, and thoroughly engrossing, given its brief length. Shot and framed with exquisite care, it validates a favorite past time and the value of looking at old photographs of family members to gain insight into one's self.
Amassing as many of the old photos as he could of his parents and grandparents, their relatives and offspring, Bergman takes long, lingering views of their faces, their hands, the expressions in their eyes and mouths, registering for us all, something special in the faces of siblings and relatives young and old. These are long loving looks, with no narration, just a piano playing a simple slightly abstract tune. It was quite moving to see, just through juxtaposition, what Bergman could lead us to think about how he regards his mother, father, aunts, uncles, cousins, -- anyone who was pictured, including himself as a boy.
This film recalled the movie "Best Intentions," of 1992, because the actors in that film really looked like his parents. What was striking in gazing at these photographs, was that Bergman's father had the more feminine face, with his soft features, large eyes, and receding chin; whereas his mother had the more masculine face, smaller eyes, strong jaw, intelligent but not stern. She was quite a beauty when young (her mother opposed the marriage, as in the movie) and being a parson's wife took its toll on her beauty, but instilled great character in her face, which never grew hard, as some faces can in old age.
Of particular interest was the fact that many of the faces of his relative had traits of the actresses, especially, that he favored, their expressions recalling them uncannily. One face looked very much like Liv Ullmann, and Bibi Andersson's features seem to resemble something of his mother's when she was young.
The simplicity and power of this film, its rhythm and pacing, earn Bergman a new epithet as a conductor, so musical did the entire piece seem to this viewer. Definitely recommended to all film goers who appreciate character development in cinema and abhor its absence in so many of today's films.
"Brink of Life" was shown as part of the exhaustive Bergman retrospective organized by the National Gallery of Art, American Film Institute, and the National Museum of Women in the Arts. The film curator at the NMWA paired it insightfully with "Karin's Face (1984)," a film of stills about Bergman's mother.
As the two previous reviewers have observed, this little-mentioned film is a classic of its own, dealing with a most challenging and difficult phase of life undeservedly neglected by directors, male or female. Numerous thoughts passed through my mind while viewing it. For those who have experienced some of the events in the film, it rings true. Bergman, with the assistance of the excellent script by Ulla Isaksson, is able to penetrate female psychology about this very elemental subject and to elicit powerful and honest performances from all of his actors. To say that Bergman proves himself to be both psychologist and psychiatrist of the female psyche would not be an exaggeration. But here in 1958 he feels no need for the pathology of "Cries and Whispers," or the sexual neuroses of "Persona."
The setting is "given," almost like a stage play, as it takes place in mainly two rooms of a hospital, and the situation of each of the three women, while different, might even seem a tad "set" or "canned." But as their situations unfold, and as we are drawn into each dilemma, we see how vital this inter-action is between them, between them and the head nurse, and between each of their spouses and lover. From the intensity of being alone (as we see in vivid closeups), their circle of life is gradually drawn wider, encompassing others and us in it. Ultimately, we see how this inter-action deeply affects each of them.
From the standpoint of film making, we can feel how much Bergman loved the archetype Woman, and felt compelled to present in as straightforward and sympathetic a way possible, without melodrama or sentimentality, her predicament as Child-bearer. We are given insight into her innermost fears (what woman has not feared pregnancy before marriage, or a miscarriage, or an abnormal or still birth, an indifferent lover or spouse?), and we are shown how some kind of closure or resolution might be offered through an honest reaching out and sharing of those fears with someone who listens and sympathizes without judgment. Bergman's genius was the ability to reach into the female psyche, to gain the trust of his actors, to allow them to reveal themselves in this most intimate and personal of human emotions and acts, and to make a statement about greeting and accepting life as well as death. He must have obtained this insight early on in life, and for that gift we must thank his mother Karin.
One final note about the men in these women's lives. Ingrid Thulin is matched with Erland Josephson, Eva Dahlbeck with Max von Sydow, and Bibi Andersson speaks on the phone with her lover. Both Josephson and Sydow look very young, much younger than the women appear. Josephson plays a role we seldom see him in, that of the rather unsympathetic spouse, a bit too caught up in himself and appearances.
His sister, interceding for him, is the beautiful and strong, but rarely seen Inga Landgr~{(&~}. Max von Sydow plays a young, very young husband to Dahlbeck -- he seems almost like an adolescent here, even though he was in the "Magician" the same year and "Seventh Seal" the year before. Bibi's errant young man is suitably absent
If we are to read their roles as legitimately portrayed, then I wonder what Bergman was trying to say about Man vis a vis Woman during this phase of pregnancy and childbirth? I hesitate to speculate, but it is almost one of helplessness, even fecklessness, in the face of a life force that is greater than himself.
In all a film of **** well worth searching for and best seen in company with "Karin's Face" if at all possible. I would recommend that all medical students see it, and anyone contemplating childbirth.
As the two previous reviewers have observed, this little-mentioned film is a classic of its own, dealing with a most challenging and difficult phase of life undeservedly neglected by directors, male or female. Numerous thoughts passed through my mind while viewing it. For those who have experienced some of the events in the film, it rings true. Bergman, with the assistance of the excellent script by Ulla Isaksson, is able to penetrate female psychology about this very elemental subject and to elicit powerful and honest performances from all of his actors. To say that Bergman proves himself to be both psychologist and psychiatrist of the female psyche would not be an exaggeration. But here in 1958 he feels no need for the pathology of "Cries and Whispers," or the sexual neuroses of "Persona."
The setting is "given," almost like a stage play, as it takes place in mainly two rooms of a hospital, and the situation of each of the three women, while different, might even seem a tad "set" or "canned." But as their situations unfold, and as we are drawn into each dilemma, we see how vital this inter-action is between them, between them and the head nurse, and between each of their spouses and lover. From the intensity of being alone (as we see in vivid closeups), their circle of life is gradually drawn wider, encompassing others and us in it. Ultimately, we see how this inter-action deeply affects each of them.
From the standpoint of film making, we can feel how much Bergman loved the archetype Woman, and felt compelled to present in as straightforward and sympathetic a way possible, without melodrama or sentimentality, her predicament as Child-bearer. We are given insight into her innermost fears (what woman has not feared pregnancy before marriage, or a miscarriage, or an abnormal or still birth, an indifferent lover or spouse?), and we are shown how some kind of closure or resolution might be offered through an honest reaching out and sharing of those fears with someone who listens and sympathizes without judgment. Bergman's genius was the ability to reach into the female psyche, to gain the trust of his actors, to allow them to reveal themselves in this most intimate and personal of human emotions and acts, and to make a statement about greeting and accepting life as well as death. He must have obtained this insight early on in life, and for that gift we must thank his mother Karin.
One final note about the men in these women's lives. Ingrid Thulin is matched with Erland Josephson, Eva Dahlbeck with Max von Sydow, and Bibi Andersson speaks on the phone with her lover. Both Josephson and Sydow look very young, much younger than the women appear. Josephson plays a role we seldom see him in, that of the rather unsympathetic spouse, a bit too caught up in himself and appearances.
His sister, interceding for him, is the beautiful and strong, but rarely seen Inga Landgr~{(&~}. Max von Sydow plays a young, very young husband to Dahlbeck -- he seems almost like an adolescent here, even though he was in the "Magician" the same year and "Seventh Seal" the year before. Bibi's errant young man is suitably absent
If we are to read their roles as legitimately portrayed, then I wonder what Bergman was trying to say about Man vis a vis Woman during this phase of pregnancy and childbirth? I hesitate to speculate, but it is almost one of helplessness, even fecklessness, in the face of a life force that is greater than himself.
In all a film of **** well worth searching for and best seen in company with "Karin's Face" if at all possible. I would recommend that all medical students see it, and anyone contemplating childbirth.
Several years ago, when I first saw this movie, I felt that it was melodramatic with awkward dialogue and clumsy direction, and not worth my time, except for the dancing segment with Moira Shearer and James Mason ("Jealous Lover"). After this recent viewing, I have a better appreciation of the finished product and wonder at the curious division of directors, Minnelli and Reinhardt, and committee of script writers, which may account for the structural and dialogue flaws in the film. Throughout the movie I had the curious feeling that the influence of the great team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger was haunting the producion. Both script and direction fall short of their work, such as "The Red Shoes" or Stairway to Heaven." Yet on this second viewing I still felt it worth my time.
First, the casts are well chosen and the camera loves them, especially the three female leads: Shearer, Caron and Angeli. One cannot find three more gorgeously photogenic and sensitive faces captured by Hollywood and its lenses than these -- and without excessive makeup. Being English, French and Italian (in that order), they also embody the international strength of post-war Hollywood, and are strong complements for the male leads, Mason, Granger and Douglas, all of whom made their careers in America (Mason was born English, I believe). These three leading ladies were certainly chosen for their youthful radiance and sensitivity, and the luminous close-ups plus the saturated color and lush music by the great Rozsa (who appears as the conductor in the first segment) lend a baroque richness to each of the segments reminiscent of Visconti's "Senso," or possibly even "Il Gattopardo."
Second, the camera work and lighting are excellent, both subtle and dramatic at the same time, fully enhancing the flashback aspect and sense of fantasy in all of the stories and revealing the delicacy and individuality of the three women, not to mention the great Agnes Moorehead in the first segment. The delicacy of Shearer, Caron and Angeli with the differences in each of their coloring and bone structure, contrasts dramatically with their respective male leads, the forceful articulateness of Mason (given an incredibly weak script stilted and overwrought when compared to P & P's dialogue for Lermentov in "Red Shoes"), the boyish tenderness of Granger in the second segment, and the snappy personality of Douglas in the high wire segment.
In the latter, which other reviewers seemed to like the least, I found Angeli's combination of vulnerability and inner strength very moving, all of the emotion held back, but pouring out of those great expressive eyes. Her subtlety provided the proper foil for Douglas's aggressive, almost animal energy and line delivery. I am not by any means a fan of
Douglas (except for his "Lust for Life"), but I liked him in "Equilibrium," and was impressed that most of the aerial stunts seemed to have been done by him. Certainly the circumstances of the war that led to Angeli's suicide attempt in the story lent a depth to the plot that was very much of the time and may be difficult for Americans to understand today. However, Europeans were still deeply affected by the war even in the mid-fifties (see "Act of Love," another film of Douglas's).
What each of the female stars gave to the film, as the focus of the "three loves" of the title -- Shearer in her role as a ballerina with the exquisite choreography by Frederick Ashton (celebrating the centennial of his birth this year); Caron, in an early non-dancing part actually using her French in the dialogue if not in the poems by Verlaine; and in Angeli cast as a victim of the war-- was a sense of authenticity and genuineness. I find these qualities very much lacking in the majority of American films, certainly those made by recent directors.
One final thing I liked about "Equilibrium" was showing how Douglas trained Angeli step by step in the high wire act to build up her strength and courage. One doesn't usually see this in a film. It also looked as if Angeli did her own stuntwork. Even if she didn't, it was effectively shot.
In all, a film worthy of renewed viewing. Of four ****, I give three and a half
First, the casts are well chosen and the camera loves them, especially the three female leads: Shearer, Caron and Angeli. One cannot find three more gorgeously photogenic and sensitive faces captured by Hollywood and its lenses than these -- and without excessive makeup. Being English, French and Italian (in that order), they also embody the international strength of post-war Hollywood, and are strong complements for the male leads, Mason, Granger and Douglas, all of whom made their careers in America (Mason was born English, I believe). These three leading ladies were certainly chosen for their youthful radiance and sensitivity, and the luminous close-ups plus the saturated color and lush music by the great Rozsa (who appears as the conductor in the first segment) lend a baroque richness to each of the segments reminiscent of Visconti's "Senso," or possibly even "Il Gattopardo."
Second, the camera work and lighting are excellent, both subtle and dramatic at the same time, fully enhancing the flashback aspect and sense of fantasy in all of the stories and revealing the delicacy and individuality of the three women, not to mention the great Agnes Moorehead in the first segment. The delicacy of Shearer, Caron and Angeli with the differences in each of their coloring and bone structure, contrasts dramatically with their respective male leads, the forceful articulateness of Mason (given an incredibly weak script stilted and overwrought when compared to P & P's dialogue for Lermentov in "Red Shoes"), the boyish tenderness of Granger in the second segment, and the snappy personality of Douglas in the high wire segment.
In the latter, which other reviewers seemed to like the least, I found Angeli's combination of vulnerability and inner strength very moving, all of the emotion held back, but pouring out of those great expressive eyes. Her subtlety provided the proper foil for Douglas's aggressive, almost animal energy and line delivery. I am not by any means a fan of
Douglas (except for his "Lust for Life"), but I liked him in "Equilibrium," and was impressed that most of the aerial stunts seemed to have been done by him. Certainly the circumstances of the war that led to Angeli's suicide attempt in the story lent a depth to the plot that was very much of the time and may be difficult for Americans to understand today. However, Europeans were still deeply affected by the war even in the mid-fifties (see "Act of Love," another film of Douglas's).
What each of the female stars gave to the film, as the focus of the "three loves" of the title -- Shearer in her role as a ballerina with the exquisite choreography by Frederick Ashton (celebrating the centennial of his birth this year); Caron, in an early non-dancing part actually using her French in the dialogue if not in the poems by Verlaine; and in Angeli cast as a victim of the war-- was a sense of authenticity and genuineness. I find these qualities very much lacking in the majority of American films, certainly those made by recent directors.
One final thing I liked about "Equilibrium" was showing how Douglas trained Angeli step by step in the high wire act to build up her strength and courage. One doesn't usually see this in a film. It also looked as if Angeli did her own stuntwork. Even if she didn't, it was effectively shot.
In all, a film worthy of renewed viewing. Of four ****, I give three and a half