Persona
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Movie Reviews of Persona
Movie Review: Unique
Summary: 4 Stars
Persona, Ingmar Bergman's 1966 black and white film, reminds me of Herman Hesse's novella Siddhartha. Not in the subject matter, but in that both works of art perfectly marry their messages with their forms, and both say so much with so little a narrative spine. In that sense, both are great works of art that transcend any of the discomfit their often dubious artistic and social claims make. Persona has only four main actors, two of which dominate the film, and only one of which speaks. That would be a 25 year old nurse, sister Alma (Bibi Andersson), who is hired to take care of a famous stage actress who has had a nervous breakdown and refuses to speak. This is Elisabet Vogler (Liv Ullman). The other two actors who appear and speak are Mr. Vogler (Gunnar Björnstrand), who makes a brief hallucinatory appearance late in the film, and the doctor of the asylum where Elisabet is housed and where Alma works (Margaretha Krook).... The title, also, given that Elisabet is an actress, has been endlessly argued over, even though it's perhaps the most manifest part of the film. In his defense, I think Bergman realized that he could not make too long a film out of this material, lest be charged with filmic narcissism, so wisely it only clocks in at about an hour and twenty minutes, for there are loads of people willing to overpraise this film for Bergman, without relying on himself to do so. That said, Bergman does give a little bit of narration, to most manifestly inject himself into the proceedings, as he does in shots where Elisabet is his surrogate, physically guiding Alma in her scenes with Mr. Vogler.
Bergman takes the usual smug swipes at artists- that they are selfish, lazy, narcissistic, etc., but these are rather hollow moments, as true as they may often be. So are those moments involving pain, ecstasy, truth, ego and superego, and their critique. The real core of the film comes from the most artificial of the artifices. That Bergman acknowledges that art is all artifice (they come from the same Latin root, as I've long championed) it can never be reality nor truth, therefore, what the film really declaims is that all human pretensions to the nobility of art and truth and suffering are just that, pretensions. That so few people and critics have not realized that Bergman is not attacking the `deep' questions of existence, in this film, but affirming the immediacy of the shallow, is part of the film's brilliance. And this is true, whether or not Bergman claims it so, because the intent of the artist is meaningless. Once the art is completed, he or she has no more claim over it than any other interested percipient of it.
That all said, the film is a technical tour de force due to the stellar camera work of cinematographer Sven Nykvist. The composition and lighting of every scene is breathtaking, heightened by the black and white (mixed with multiple grays), which is the true coin of the dream state, which this film fully exploits. Also, other than Alma's speaking, much of the rest of the film works as a de facto silent film, recalling to me the great Carl Theodor Dreyer film Vampyr, or Roman Polanski's Repulsion, which came out a year earlier. Both films are superior to Persona, for both have better tales, and are less self-conscious. Repulsion was set in a real world setting, and took off from there, while Persona is all artifice, with experimentation at its core. But that fact does not deny Persona its own form of greatness. There are numerous scenes which blatantly and slyly reference vampires, and Persona seems to have lifted much of its imagery and symbolism from Polanski's film, and Bergman's own earlier The Silence. Persona is indeed a horror film, in the sense that all horror is based internally, not in monsters manifested externally.
Many critics refer to this film as deconstructive or Postmodern, but they are again missing the point. Those terms are merely inward terms, gawking at the art. That is only the veneer of this film, the toolkit used, as it gazes outward at the viewer. The film, however, is a small film, in every sense of the term, which holds up a mirror to the viewer, not the art it is. In that sense, it is anti-deconstructive, for the art is what it is, and the viewer is the subject matter under examination. The acting by Andersson and Ullman is consummately fine, especially with Ullman's realistic and hyper-realistic acting without words. Only four decades into the talky era, she has utterly shed all of the artifices silent films' acting required, and the acting and visual virtuosity of the film are more than enough to cancel out the hollow psychology, and dated artsy clichés.
Persona is self-conscious, narcissistic, and not too psychologically deep, for there is no real reason offered for Alma's identification with Elisabet, nor her breakdown, but it is the ultimate style over substance film, and as such attains its true greatness, despite the visual sleight of hand that leads many to be sucked into its hollow posturing as some source of great depth. But, more so, it's a grandly entertaining film, more than it is a deep one, giving the psychologically naïve much to talk about as Bergman deceives the viewer into deep thought over the shallow. As such, it was most deserving of its Oscar for Best Foreign Film in the year of its release, but I urge every viewer to ignore any reviews of the film beforehand, even this one, for a naked approach to it is the only way to fully plumb its essence. Good luck.
Movie Review: The subject of "Persona" is spite.
Summary: 4 Stars
They say that Bergman is a complex director. But he's really all about one thing: cruelty. Almost all of his major films are about people hurting other people. The violence can be physical, like in "The Virgin Spring," but usually it plays out through lengthy dialogues and monologues. The characters choose their words very carefully, in order to construct the most devastating phrasing. In all of cinema, Bergman is the absolute master of the art of hurting people with words.
About halfway through his career, Bergman stopped dressing up the emotional abuse with religious allegory. His films became less dependent on plot, their settings became narrower and more intimate. But the more they were reduced to their cruel essence, the more shockingly convincing they became. The later films are Bergman's best work -- "Cries And Whispers" (the best, in my opinion), "Scenes From A Marriage" and "Autumn Sonata" are all vicious and riveting. The one exception is "Fanny And Alexander," which is much kinder than usual, perhaps because Bergman had some warm feelings about childhood.
"Persona" fits into this fine tradition. The cinematography is stark and unadorned. The sets have very few props, which appear when they are needed and disappear again. Many scenes take place against a plain white background, without even discernible walls. It's impossible to get any sense of the layout of the house the characters live in. There are only four people in the film, only one of whom has a large speaking role. For the most part, the camera alternates between close-ups of their faces. Half of each face is often covered in shadow, which leads to an unsettling visual trick toward the end.
The sterile visuals put the focus on the emotional conflict. Only Bergman could have thought of that famous scene where Alma moves the piece of glass into Elisabeth's way. That elaborate, passive-aggressive malice is his calling card. The scene is similar in spirit to the flashbacks in "Cries And Whispers" where the women drive their husbands to despair. Bergman's characters attack with something as delicate as nudging a piece of glass with one's foot.
Prior to this scene, the film feels slow. The odd, arty opening, the cinematography, the silent main character are all disconcerting, and make it difficult to feel involved. But when the sharp piece of glass appears on the ground, the effect is heart-stopping. Before Alma has even moved, while she's still eyeing Elisabeth's movements, the hostility is so tangible that it's overwhelming. From there, it doesn't let up until the end.
The verbal violence comes later, in the other famous scene, the double monologue in the end. It doesn't really matter whether Alma's assessment of Elisabeth's character is accurate. She wants to draw blood (a literal wound suddenly appears soon after), so she says exactly those things that will hurt Elisabeth the most. Her choice of words is extremely sophisticated -- you'd have to try pretty hard just to think of the things she says, even if you were talking to your worst enemy. And, of course, she winds herself up as she's talking. Bergman's characters hate themselves as much as they hate everyone else. So, Elisabeth's silence is an equally sophisticated response, it's like a nightmare where you can't get through to your interlocutor no matter what you say.
While Alma speaks, the camera shows Elisabeth's silent face. Then, the monologue is repeated, but now the camera shows Alma talking. Bergman's reuse of the same dialogue in this scene has already been analyzed by everyone. But I think it's simple -- the film repeats the scene so that you won't miss any of the pain inflicted by the words. This way, you get the full reaction from both women, first you're forced to watch Elisabeth listening to the whole thing, then Alma speaking it.
You might ask if Bergman had any point in mind aside from showing people emotionally devastating each other. I don't know -- I'm sure there are many interpretations of the film that try to find one. But I don't think it matters that much. Although Alma talks a lot in the film, Bergman never really gives you any way to understand her. Her long sex monologue (Bergman may appear boring and old-fashioned now, but actually, he is often extremely explicit) really only shows that she's a very cold person. For this reason, she deeply resents having to be nice to people, including her husband. That's about it. Bergman is always more convincing when he's depicting coldness than when he's trying to explain it. "Autumn Sonata" is like that too.
Are there any actual people who act like these characters in real life? Maybe, maybe not, but that's beside the point. The hostility is very real, however stylized the expression. Why you'd want to watch that is another question, but if you do, it may be hard to forget.
Movie Review: Persona- A wonderful film
Summary: 4 Stars
Persona (1966)
Bergman's Persona begins with many seemingly random images, including an eye being removed from its socket, a child crying, an erect penis and an animal being slaughtered. The first three minutes of the film is a jumbled, cluttered and fast-paced sequence that appears to have no continuity whatsoever. The genius of Bergman, as a masterful "auteur," is revealed as many of these same images conclude the film, only now they clearly have a significant meaning to the action of the film. Bergman's ability to symbolize abstract concepts such as loneliness, abortion, rage and sadness in this confusing sequence clearly depicts film as art. Persona, technically, visually and symbolically demonstrates the ability for film to be seen as a form of art.
Throughout the film, Bergman uses many symbols to show the progression of the relationship between Elizabeth and Sister Alma. Twice in the film, Bergman visually shows how Alma and Elizabeth have switched roles. The "overlap" between the two women is first seen when Elizabeth enters Alma's room while she is asleep. As Elizabeth is about to exit the bedroom, Alma jolts out of her bed and embraces Elizabeth. As the two sit side-by-side, they embrace, as Elizabeth physically crosses her head over Alma's far shoulder. The same sequence occurs toward the latter part of the film. From these identical scenes, it is easy for one to conclude that Alma has become Elizabeth. Alma and Elizabeth have switched roles; Alma has become the one needing help and Elizabeth appears to be the silent, yet attentive listener. As we see later, the roles have changed when Elizabeth writes to the doctor that she has been "studying" Alma. The most significant role-reversal between the two occurs when Alma has sex with Elizabeth's blind husband and pretends to be Elizabeth. Yet, it is the image of the two beautiful women intertwined that seem to describe the complexities of their relationship much more appropriately than Alma making love to Elizabeth's husband.
The film visually shows us the emotions and mind-sets of the main characters. In the opening sequence, Elizabeth is seen lying in a room that resembles a morgue. There is no movement or sound (diagetic nor non-diagetic) and everything in the room appears dead. It is quite startling when Elizabeth suddenly opens her eyes, as if she is suddenly awoken from a horrible dream. She appears terrified and at the same time lifeless. She does not make a sound, nor does she utter more than a couple sentences in the entirety of the film. This one scene shows that Elizabeth is terrified as if she is keeping a secret. The secret that is later revealed, not by Elizabeth but by Alma shows that Elizabeth has feared motherhood and it has caused her to become a mute.
The film is largely about identity roles and how we perceive each other. Bergman creates these unbelievable scenes that force us to question reality and how we perceive reality. He also uses misrepresentations to depict false perceptions. Initially, Alma believes that Elizabeth is good-natured and sincerely interested in her difficulties. As the film plays out, we see that Alma's perceptions are wrong and that Elizabeth is in fact using her. It seems as if Bergman is saying that it is truly impossible to really know someone else. Our own projections, however false they may be, are largely the only way we think we know a person. Bergman's most significant message of Persona tragically shows our inability to truly know anyone else from ourselves.
Movie Review: Beautiful women going mad
Summary: 4 Stars
Let's give it four stars instead of five, just to tone down the adulation a hair. Face it, although this is a penetrating and powerful film, some people are going to be left completely cold by it. It's not for today's Spider-Man 2 plot compulsive viewers.
I just watched this film again tonight -- we're blessed with a Bergman festival here in Washington, DC just now (July 2004). I watched it as a quasi-double bill with Through a Glass Darkly -- another movie, like this one, in which Bibi Andersson goes mad. Yet two completely different performances, portraying different-seeming women.
In this one, as the other plot summaries state, Andersson nurses an actress played by Liv Ullmann who decides to stop talking. Andersson takes that silence as a cue to start talking herself, opening up about herself and the sins of her past. Like so many other serious sixties movies, this one toys with the idea of who is the sane one.
You should pick your friends carefully and Ullmann proves maybe not Andersson's best bet. Let's not give away too much about what happens, but like so many Bergman pictures this is about whether any two people can truly know each other -- whether you can know the person you're talking to and living with, or whether you only know a mask that person is wearing. Ullmann and Andersson are made up to look very much alike, lending an overt touch to the idea that their personalities are somehow merging or overlapping as they explore themselves through their interactions with each other.
Their interactions are about all you get -- there are only a few other characters in the film. The two actresses do their thing in seclusion in a typical Bergman seaside setting. Don't expect any car chases!
Movie Review: Self punishment
Summary: 4 Stars
Two beautiful actresses, almost identical in their physical appearance, bettle it out on screen. Liv Ullman plays an actress, Elizabeth, who during stage play goes silent (probably every director's nightmare). There is nothing wrong with her physically or empotionally according to the doctor, so she is assigned a young nurse Alma (Bibi Anderson) to take care of her. There is no need for them to stay in the hospital, so doctor let's them use her summer house in hopes that fresh air and rest will aid patient's recovery from the unexplainable illness. As two women settle in house, it is amazing to see them interact in spite of the fact that Elizabeth does not speak at all and the young nurse is doing all the talking. As the time goes by, it is the young nurse who opens herself up bare to her silent companion. It is almost as if their roles are reversed. As long kept secrets keep pouring out, the initial tenderness between two of them turns into violence and cruelty both verbal and physical. It turns that solitude and deep reflection are cracking their personalities in the ways neither one of them expected. Or could it be, that the two personalities are part of one that imagines it all as a form of self-healing? Reconciling one's life is never easy, so it is not surprising the we witness all the psychological twists unfold in front of us. Deeply intelectual film that can have many meanings, it is quiet, but not slow and engaging from start to finish. We really want to know what will come out of these characters at the end.