Ingmar Bergman Trilogy (Through a Glass Darkly / Winter Light / The Silence) (Criterion Collection)

Perhaps the most amazing thing about Bergman's huge body of work is how his style continued to grow and evolve, even
as he was drawn again and again to the great questions in life; is there a God? How do we face death? What is the
meaning of being here? Can we be happy? Can people be kind to each other, or are we doomed only to cause harm? Is love real?

Yet, while the themes stay consistent, how he approached them varied wildly over 50 years of film-making, from the uber-experimental,
groundbreaking poetic surrealism of "Persona", to the highly symbolic "Seventh Seal", to his later works, more grounded in naturalism and
day-to-day realism, but no less profound for it. Pieces like "Scenes From a Marriage", or "Cries and Whispers".

These three films, which I've heard referred to as "the Faith Trilogy", "The Silence of God" trilogy, or simply "The Trilogy" as Criterion labels
them, represent a paradoxic step forward from his earlier work. On one hand they are more poetic, subtle, works - even the highly surreal
"The Silence" is more fragile and etherial than, say, the earlier "Virgin Spring". The film making is more stylized, from the never moving camera
of "Winter's Light" with it's very self conscious framings, and six minute long monologues, to the almost Fellini-esque "The Silence".

On the other hand, the performances themselves are even more grounded in the kind of understated hyper-realism that was Bergman's ever
growing trademark.

While not my personal favorites of Bergman's work (I am most attached to his later pieces) these are still must-see, if not 'easy' films, for any
fan of grown up thoughtful film-making. The direct depth with which they ponder the meaning of existence, and the depths of despair that
struggle for meaning can bring is breathtaking, if sometimes hard to take. The work of his actors is consistently amazing, and the images are unique
and unforgettable.

These are films that only grow with time, and re-visiting, so owning copies is worth-while. There's no way to get all the levels of these
existential explorations at one go. And the Criterion transfers - as is almost always the case - are first rate.

Some specific notes on the films from my 'film diary':

Through a Glass Darkly (1961)
My personal favorite of Bergman's earlier works, I find this tremendously moving and haunting in equal degree.

Bergman is still dealing with some of the same big issues (Is there a god?, What's the meaning of art?, etc.) but now on a much more human
level. The preachiness is gone, and the characters are no longer archetypes. Just human beings struggling with the difficulties of living.

Phenomenal, understated performances all around, and beautiful cinematography more than compensate for occasional hints of staginess in
this chamber drama with just 4 characters; a father, his son and schizophrenic daughter, and her husband who loves her in spite of her illness.

All the characters are human, identifiable, occasionally ugly, and always true. This film led to me thinking much more deeply about my own
life then the impressive, but more on-the-nose cosmic questioning of 'The Seventh Seal' or even 'Wild Strawberries'.

Winter Light (1962)
I was slightly less affected by this than by `Through a Glass Darkly', which opens the trilogy, though a number of critics rank it higher, and
a couple call it one of the greatest films ever made.

Certainly, once again the acting is terrific, and the cinematography superb. More even than `Through a Glass Darkly' this film mines
the subtle shadings of the human face to an almost supernatural degree.

But this film returns to Bergman's early tendency to be more on-the-nose with his themes. It's the story itself. A pastor has
lost his faith, in the face of God's silence at the dark things of life. But in this story, just about everyone has surrendered to that
sort of hopeless depression, so the film feels more one note, more talky and `heady' than `Through a Glass Darkly', if more quiet
and subtle in its approach than the early Bergman works.

It's not just that the characters don't change that bothers me, its that it feels clear from the outset there is no hope of change, which
made me feel I'd already gotten the power of the film's questioning and aching loss (which is still considerable) long before its final moments.

None-the-less, how rewarding to see any film that is about the big questions, and addresses them in a serious, beautifully made way.
And I do find it haunting me since I've seen it.

The Silence (1963)
My first reaction was the same I've had to many of Bergman's earlier films: deep admiration, but not personal
adoration. In this case, the more extreme, self-conscious surreal style threw me off. This feels more like
something by Bunuel, Fellini, Beckett or Lynch (all of whom I love).

Two sisters, polar opposites - one sensual, emotional, promiscuous, self-centered, representing the body, the id.
The other, intellectual, sickly, sexually isolated stands for mind or super ego. The child of one, perhaps 8 years
old, is accompanying them on a train trip, heading home. We never know where they're coming from or why
they went. They stop in a city clearly preparing for war, or under some sort of military occupation. They stay
in a baroque but almost abandoned hotel, unable to communicate with anyone, since this unknown land has a
language none of them speak.

While one sister picks up lovers, and the other languishes ill in bed, the boy explores the creepy hotel ("The Shining"
was definitely influenced by this), making friends with a circus full of dwarf performers, who, pointedly, are the most
normal people in the film.

All of this is done with very little dialogue (to the point where the effect feels forced and self- conscious at times). I
had a hard time clicking in while watching the film, but images and moments have really stuck with me, and there's
good reason why so many intelligent critics think it's a masterpiece. And certainly the exploration of surrealism here
helped prepared him for the leap to one of his greatest achievements, "Persona".

Of late, I have developed an interest in Bergman movies. I can't seem to get myself away from them, as the "artfullness" of Bergman's movies transcend time and even Bergman's weightly "popularity". When he was allowed to pursue his "art" by being given the "poetic license" of his popularity i.e. he could write, direct, attract stars that he wanted, I feel he produced what one would hope, all he was capable of as an artist.
Yes, this sounds grandiose on my part to give such an uninhibited glowing review of what would seem to be such stark movies. But folks, these DVD's are worth it, because the viewer is given the opportunity to see the behind the scenes making of the movies, and more than a peek at Bergman himself. Bergman appears to be an artist not afraid to look at himself beyond the curse of Narcissus. What he was able to see and show through these movies is remarkable.
I bought these DVD's with some trepidation, thinking that I may be pursuing my interest to nurture my proclivity to wallow in depressive affect or worse to try to in my older middle aged years imbibe as much art as I can tolerate as the trash that is produced and maketed by the media is exponential. I'm afraid to say that much of the "art" sits on my bookshelves or in a pile here or there, gleaned once and put away for another time. I could not do that with these movies, or any other Bergman DVD's that I have watched. I bring up the DVD issue, as the VCR versions are nice, but do not offer the "extras" of the DVD's i.e. interviews with Bergman, etc. I have VCR versions of some of his movies, but will buy DVD as well of some of them i.e. Persona when they are available. Enough said, anyone with an interest in Bergman should own this exceptional Trilogy plus "Ingmar Bergman makes a movie".

As with Beckett's trilogy of novels _Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable_ this trilogy of novels seems to imitate Baroque music in its structure--at the time, through Bergman's marriage with Kabi Laretei (sorry if this is misspelled), Bergman became even more interested in Baroque music, especially the music of Bach. Bach was a master of chamber music--that is, music with few musicians that give the viewer/listener a sense of intimacy. And the trilogy seems to have, in its three films, the three movements of a traditional chamber concerto. And Bach's music figures prominently in at least two of the films--in the first, with the soundtrack lifted from Bach, and in the last, with one of the few moments of communication centered around Bach's music. (I am not sure if the organ music in the second film is also Bach; it seems a reasonable hypothesis.) The trilogy represents a cinematic break for Bergman from the large, intricate productions exemplified by _Wild Strawberries_ and _The Seventh Seal_.

But the trilogy seems to represent a transition for Bergman from problems of theology to those immediate problems people experience. This is the reason for the necessity of cinematic intimacy--to be close to these people's problems, one must first be close to the people represented.

I have attempted, here, to avoid obscurities. The interpretation of such details has gone on apace, as with all Bergman's films. But these obscurities are often not too dificult to understand, as Bergman often uses the same themes of religion and despair in all his films. The point is that these three brilliant films represent a complete change in structure and technique for Bergman--he even began, here, to use more radical cinematic methods (an example is the revolutionary six minute close up on Ingrid Thulin's character in the misnomered _Winter Light_). The importance of these films from an historical standpoint is their evidence of a paradigm shift for Bergman, as discussed above. That, and their thematic genius.