From the Life of the Marionettes
May 31st 2010 05:39
Made when he had been briefly forced into exile in Germany to avoid the taxman, Ingmar Bergman’s From the Life of the Marionettes (1980) is one of the finest works from the last phase of the Swedish master's career. Told in non-linear fragments this remains a provocative, dense exploration of one man’s disturbed psyche as related from contrasting viewpoints. The film is immaculately shot by Sven Nykvist in black and white, though two colour sequences are used as framing scenes, the first of which - employing a garish red as the dominant shade - depicts the murder of a prostitute, Katarina Kraft (Rita Russek), which is central to everything that follows.
This being no mystery, the murderer is never in doubt: Peter Egermann (Robert Atzorn) is a successful businessman with a seemingly well-adjusted, enviable life. Secretly however, he harbors hideous desires. As we learn through the musings of his therapist friend, Professor Mogens Jensen (Martin Benrath), Egermann has recently struggled to come to grips with an explicit, terrifying urge to commit a murderous act. Increasingly it is his wife Katarina (Christine Buchegger) who has become the focus of this dark yearning.
Leapfrogging backwards and forwards over the fateful day on which Egermann’s desires no longer remained containable, we see the developing warning signs as his relationship with his wife became increasingly strained. Bergman adds layers to his central portrait by examining the ramifications for those in close proximity as well, including Egermann's mother (Lola Muthel), a once-famous actress, and a gay confidante of his wife, Tim (Walter Schmidinger).
Though the assembly of viewpoints seems disjointed initially, Bergman’s screenplay allows for a natural flushing out of key details that add weight to this disturbing portrait of Egermann as he struggles to prevent an implosion from ruining his life. Atzorn’s memorably intense portrayal of the man is very much in keeping with the tortured protagonists of Bergman’s best work, like Pastor Ericcson in Winter Light (1963) and Johan Borg in The Hour of the Wolf (1968). The emotional detachment in Egermann and contradictory expressions of love for his wife are nakedly drawn with all their ominous associations intact. Meanwhile the internal pressure begins to mount, stretching their relationship to breaking point.
Buchegger gives an equally tormented, dour performance, one not unworthy of comparison with those so often elicited from that triumvirate of suffering Bergman leading ladies, Liv Ullmann, Bibi Andersson and Ingrid Thulin. The haunted look affecting her in the final despairing moments of the film is a very familiar one.
Filled with fascinating insights, relayed through typically lengthy, brooding monologues, From the Life of the Marionettes is far from second-rate Bergman despite its relatively anonymous status. The context of the film’s production makes it a curiosity to some degree - notwithstanding the fact that it was funded by German television and screened in that country alone on the small screen. But this is a matured, cynical deconstruction of alienation and aberrant psychology, with a fascinating structural approach that is unique to Bergman’s body of work.
A lengthy clip:
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Comment by Matt Shea
Comment by David O'Connell
20/20 Filmsight
Screen Fanatic
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Comment by David O'Connell
20/20 Filmsight
Screen Fanatic
Marionettes is interesting for a number of reasons, not the least of which is how reflective it was of Bergman's state of mind when he wrote it. That whole stressful time leading up to his self-imposed exile left him suicidal at one point and I think he channeled a lot of that despair and disconnectedness into the screenplay. He'd attempted similarly profound psychological insights in some of his earlier works, and though in many ways they may have produced better films, sometimes they just didn't project the depth that some of the standout moments in Marionettes achieves.
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile