Ingmar Bergman's Autumn Sonata
November 13th 2008 03:35
Ingmar Bergman’s harrowing 1978 drama, one of the legendary Swedish director’s final masterpieces, is painfully hard to watch at times, dredging up long held animosities as it does between a mother and daughter who haven’t seen one another for seven years.
Liv Ullmann, the veteran of Bergman’s most productive period in the 60’s and 70’s, is Eva, living a peaceful life in a remote Norwegian town with her pastor husband, Viktor (Halvar Bjork). She’s still haunted by the drowning death of their young son a few years previous, and feels it’s time to mend ways with her famous classical pianist mother Charlotte (Ingrid Bergman).
Eva invites her to visit between touring duties but when she arrives – after initial pleasantries – things take a dark turn when Eva confides that her sister, the mentally and physically challenged Helena (Lena Nyman), is now living in her care – another child Charlotte had long ago abandoned, unable to cope with the grotesquery of what her own flesh and blood had become.
She intends to stay for a few days at least, but what follows is an explosive, cathartic dark night of the soul for both women as bitter grievances are aired, stemming from Eva’s troubled childhood when her mother was rarely home, leaving her with major abandonment issues. These are two vastly incongruous human beings, reluctantly drawn together through both fateful ties of blood and the hatred that burns in their hearts, seeking reconciliation or revenge.
As every façade between the two is stripped away to the raw, poisoned truth beneath it, the drama becomes more difficult to watch. In typical Bergman style - with the unerring intimacy of Sven Nykvist’s paralyzing eye behind the camera - we watch in uncomfortable close-up as the final, fatally-contrived pretences unravel.
As usual, Bergman illicits stunning performances from his actors - Ullmann is one of world cinema’s finest ever, able to provide a sweet, childlike wonder and the sinister twist of a blighted conscience in the same scene. As in other Bergman landmarks Persona, Hour of the Wolf, and Cries and Whispers, she’s an awe-inspiring presence.
Ingrid Bergman, appearing for the last time on screen, and having just been diagnosed with cancer at the time, gives an equally powerful portrayal as the guilt-riddled Charlotte, who has been haunted by her failures as a mother for her entire life but subliminated nearly every trace of that guilt. She earned an Oscar nomination for performance and would have been a deserving winner.
Autumn Sonata possesses a richness to savor and revisit again and again with its gripping dialogue, pervasive close-ups, and first-class acting; the film is worth watching for two scenes alone – long takes with each women studying the other through the course of a monologue, in one case, Charlotte playing a Chopin piece in another - and the range of expressions that are revealed on their beautiful but troubled faces.
Ingmar Bergman’s films can be an acquired taste but anyone else who shares his predilection for probing the dark hearts of his characters will love and admire this stunning, mature masterpiece, a work of genius from one of world cinema’s greatest artists.
A revealing key sequence in the film:
Liv Ullmann, the veteran of Bergman’s most productive period in the 60’s and 70’s, is Eva, living a peaceful life in a remote Norwegian town with her pastor husband, Viktor (Halvar Bjork). She’s still haunted by the drowning death of their young son a few years previous, and feels it’s time to mend ways with her famous classical pianist mother Charlotte (Ingrid Bergman).
Eva invites her to visit between touring duties but when she arrives – after initial pleasantries – things take a dark turn when Eva confides that her sister, the mentally and physically challenged Helena (Lena Nyman), is now living in her care – another child Charlotte had long ago abandoned, unable to cope with the grotesquery of what her own flesh and blood had become.
She intends to stay for a few days at least, but what follows is an explosive, cathartic dark night of the soul for both women as bitter grievances are aired, stemming from Eva’s troubled childhood when her mother was rarely home, leaving her with major abandonment issues. These are two vastly incongruous human beings, reluctantly drawn together through both fateful ties of blood and the hatred that burns in their hearts, seeking reconciliation or revenge.
As every façade between the two is stripped away to the raw, poisoned truth beneath it, the drama becomes more difficult to watch. In typical Bergman style - with the unerring intimacy of Sven Nykvist’s paralyzing eye behind the camera - we watch in uncomfortable close-up as the final, fatally-contrived pretences unravel.
As usual, Bergman illicits stunning performances from his actors - Ullmann is one of world cinema’s finest ever, able to provide a sweet, childlike wonder and the sinister twist of a blighted conscience in the same scene. As in other Bergman landmarks Persona, Hour of the Wolf, and Cries and Whispers, she’s an awe-inspiring presence.
Ingrid Bergman, appearing for the last time on screen, and having just been diagnosed with cancer at the time, gives an equally powerful portrayal as the guilt-riddled Charlotte, who has been haunted by her failures as a mother for her entire life but subliminated nearly every trace of that guilt. She earned an Oscar nomination for performance and would have been a deserving winner.
Autumn Sonata possesses a richness to savor and revisit again and again with its gripping dialogue, pervasive close-ups, and first-class acting; the film is worth watching for two scenes alone – long takes with each women studying the other through the course of a monologue, in one case, Charlotte playing a Chopin piece in another - and the range of expressions that are revealed on their beautiful but troubled faces.
Ingmar Bergman’s films can be an acquired taste but anyone else who shares his predilection for probing the dark hearts of his characters will love and admire this stunning, mature masterpiece, a work of genius from one of world cinema’s greatest artists.
A revealing key sequence in the film:
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Comment by Cibbuano
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Comment by David O'Connell
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Comment by Tracy
Movies and Life
I'm quite ashamed to admit I haven't seen any Bergman films. I must rectify that, thanks for the reminder.
Tracy
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
Cries and Whispers is my personal favourite and its even more harrowing than anything in Autumn Sonata!! (Not sure what that says about me!!!). But it's well-worth tracking down too.