Criterion Sunday 237: Sommarnattens leende (Smiles of a Summer Night, 1955)

I’ve seen this Bergman film before and what I like about this comedy — and it is very much a comedy, even if it has moments of existential doubt and crises of faith — is that its characters are so flamboyantly ridiculous. At least, I should say, its male characters: the pompous lawyer Fredrik with his ridiculous beard (though his charm seems largely that he’s aware of how he’s mocked); Count Malcolm with his high-handed manner; and the foolish young Henrik, who falls for Fredrik’s younger bride. Sondheim adapted all of this for a musical, and that all makes perfect sense when you see this parade of emotions play out on screen, with particularly strong roles for the older woman Desirée who so effortlessly manipulates everyone around her, not to mention the maid Petra who cares so little for their bourgeois affectations. It’s a fun film, and one that I wish more of Bergman’s filmography could be like.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director/Writer Ingmar Bergman; Cinematographer Gunnar Fischer; Starring Eva Dahlbeck, Harriet Andersson, Gunnar Björnstrand, Ulla Jacobsson; Length 111 minutes.

Seen at home (Blu-ray), London, Friday 22 February 2019 (and originally on DVD at home, London, Monday 12 August 2013).

Criterion Sunday 209: Såsom i en spegel (Through a Glass Darkly, 1961)

I’m willing to concede that Bergman was a great filmmaker, and I have no doubt that if I came to this with the willingness to engage with it that Bergman comes to his filmmaking, then I’d probably connect with it more. It looks beautiful, to be sure, with lots of full-face close-ups, and that windswept Fårö scenery. It’s intense in its psychodrama, dealing as it does (and as is not unusual for the director) with faith, the connection with God, so tenuous and so alluring. The woman has mental health issues from which she’s recovering, and this much feels a little bit rote: beautiful women suffering for the love of God is something of a worn trope. But, as I say, were I to revisit this again, perhaps I would connect with it better, or perhaps if I came from a certain type of family, I’d appreciate the dynamics more.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director/Writer Ingmar Bergman; Cinematographer Sven Nykvist; Starring Harriet Andersson, Gunnar Björnstrand, Max von Sydow, Lars Passgård; Length 91 minutes.

Seen at a friend’s home (DVD), London, Sunday 1 April 2018.

Criterion Sunday 101: Viskningar och rop (Cries and Whispers, 1972)

The experience of working through the Criterion Collection is one of having a slightly patchwork introduction to the ‘great directors’. We’ve had a few Fellinis, a bunch of Kurosawas and a clutch of Bergmans, amongst smatterings of Hitchcock and Powell/Pressburger, so I’m by no means an expert on these grand old men of the artform. However, my feeling is that for Ingmar Bergman, having largely moved on from his early, funny stuff (and I’m a fan of his 50s comedies like Smiles of a Summer Night and The Seventh Seal), he went through a more bleak period of introspective psychodramas, and amongst these Cries and Whispers is perhaps a good — if not the archetypal — example. It’s a chamber film, largely set in a single home in the late-19th century, as two sisters, Maria (Liv Ullmann) and Karin (Ingrid Thulin), take care of their dying third sister Agnes (Harriet Andersson), with the help of the family’s maidservant Anna (Kari Sylwan). No one really has much love for anyone else, save for Anna’s love and affection towards Agnes, as we learn in flashbacks. These depict each of the four struggling with earlier relationships, such as that of Karin with her husband, or Maria with a young doctor, and each is bookmarked by a brief image of the woman’s face in close-up, looming out of a red-filtered darkness. Indeed, red is a key colour in the film: formally, Bergman employs frequent fades to red to mark scene transitions, and in terms of the set design, one of the room’s in the home is the “red room” — truly a vision of bourgeois hell, though at least each of the sisters makes sure to wear white when they’re in there. It’s hardly genteel either, as under this etiquette-ridden formally-dressed exterior are all kinds of roiling emotions, expressed most forcefully by one scene of Karin’s self-mutilation in order to escape her husband’s attentions (which I’m sure didn’t escape Michael Haneke either). It has a certain cumulative force to it, though whether you love it depends on how you respond to Bergman’s moralistic hand-wringing.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director/Writer Ingmar Bergman; Cinematographer Sven Nykvist; Starring Liv Ullmann, Ingrid Thulin, Kari Sylwan, Harriet Andersson; Length 91 minutes.

Seen at a friend’s home (DVD), London, Sunday 12 June 2016.

Sommarnattens leende (Smiles of a Summer Night, 1955)

Note that I have reviewed this film again since for one of my Criterion Sunday posts.


Ingmar Bergman is one of those feted directors of the past who I imagine is more admired than actually watched these days. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but his reputation is nowadays largely founded on the idea of dour Scandinavian films grappling with faith, death, and other big themes. As it happens, these are ideas that come more from parodies of his style than the actual films, though even in this comedy (and Smiles of a Summer Night, his first major film, is a comedy) there are scenes of questioning doubt and existential torment, not to mention an attempted suicide — it’s all just worn rather lightly.

The film takes as its central character a middle-aged lawyer, Fredrik (played by Gunnar Björnstrand), whose pomposity and ridiculous affectations (not the least of which is his carefully-shaped beard), not to mention his much younger wife Anne (Ulla Jacobsson), make him a figure of gentle fun for many of the other characters. And yet, at heart, he seems perfectly aware of himself and his foibles, as much as those around him, which makes this film more subtle in its comedy. He has not yet consummated his marriage to Ann, and finds himself straying back to an old mistress, the actress Desirée (Eva Dahlbeck), for guidance and consolation. She is now the mistress of the jealous Count Malcolm, who himself is married, while amongst all these characters flits the maid Petra (Harriet Andersson), unencumbered by their bourgeous morality with respect to sex.

What results is a delicate ronde of relationship drama, as each character finds their more ideal match in a denouement at Desirée’s mother’s home in the country. The plot and characters were taken by Stephen Sondheim pretty much without alteration for his musical A Little Night Music, and there’s something almost musical to Bergman’s film too in the way it reconfigures these pairings, nimbly moving among the different storylines with a bit of wraught melodrama in between.

What’s also evidently clear from the film is that the men are all fools, each in a different way a victim of his ego and self-importance. Therefore it’s the female actors who dominate the film, and it’s wonderful to watch Dahlbeck’s face react to the petulant and demanding men around her, and the ease with which her character Desirée manipulates them. The other key character is Petra, who despite her servile role has little time for the games the others play, and toys delightedly with both Fredrik and his son Henrik.

The film takes place in the 1890s and the sets feature plenty of ornate decoration, while stuffy period clothes are used to good effect — when Fredrik changes into a nightshirt and is forced to wear it home, it’s difficult to keep a straight face. The beautiful black-and-white photography makes good use of light and shadow, such as when Fredrik is hiding in a corner, and there are plenty of melodramatically heightened two-person shots with each character facing off in a different direction.

Almost 60 years may have passed, but this is still a delightful romantic comedy, almost slapstick in places, but still suffused with Bergman’s sensibility and some of his abiding themes. It also shows up plenty of more recent comedies in the strong, liberated roles it gives to women, still apparently a problem for too many filmmakers. It may be time to reassess that mental image of Bergman.

CREDITS
Director/Writer Ingmar Bergman; Cinematographer Gunnar Fischer; Starring Eva Dahlbeck, Harriet Andersson, Gunnar Björnstrand, Ulla Jacobsson; Length 111 minutes.
Seen at home (DVD), London, Monday 12 August 2013.