Review #1,413: 'The Passion of Anna' (1969)

By the mid-1960's, Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman had already established himself as one of the true masters of cinema. He had unleashed the likes of Wild Strawberries, The Seventh Seal, Through a Glass Darkly and - one of my personal favourites - the criminally underrated Sawdust and Tinsel, all sombre black-and-white masterpieces the director would be remembered for. 1966 saw Bergman kick off a series of films where he would experiment with cinematic form, while still exploring his favourite themes of memory, love and madness. This resulted in arguably his finest achievement, Persona, and he would go on to make the likes of Hour of the Wolf, Shame and The Passion of Anna. Bergman frequently commented on his own pictures, citing The Passion of Anna as one of his greatest failures. While it may not be on the same level as his best work, the raw emotion of Anna cannot be ignored or indeed forgotten, so I'll have to wholeheartedly disagree with the great man on this one.

The story concerns ex-convict and estranged husband Andreas Winkleman (Max von Sydow), who has isolated himself on a Swedish island (actually Bergman's own) and only occasionally socialising with the handful of locals spread across the land. One day he is approached by the beautiful but unhinged Anna (Liv Ullmann), a widow who now walks on a crutch following the car crash that took the lives of her husband and son. She wants to use Andreas' phone, and the hermit is happy to oblige. Only he can't resist eavesdropping on the conversation, which results in Anna hanging up the phone in anger and accidentally (or purposefully?) leaving her bag behind. This leads to a dinner involving married couple Eva (Bibi Andersson) and Elis Vergerus (Erland Josephson), who are both going through their own mental anguish. Eva is an insomniac who has been unfaithful in the past, and Elis is a pompous misanthrope who hoards photographs he takes of everyone he meets. Andreas and Anna start a passionless affair, but their shady pasts are destined to resurface. The island is also struck by a serial animal killer, who attempts to hang a dog before butchering cattle and setting a barn on fire. 

Bergman isn't known to be a 'fun' director, and The Passion of Anna is no different. There are sweeping monologues to camera and existential conversations over dinner. Much of this will be lost on most viewers, including myself, but there is something undeniably hypnotic watching Bergman's favourite actors spewing psychological observations or recollecting strange, nonsensical dreams. Bergman also opts to intercut the film with interviews of the actors talking about their characters, in what appears to be spontaneous behind-the-scenes footage. These sections were in fact scripted, and although the actors do well masking this fact, this experimental approach only interrupts the story. The director himself has also voiced his regret for leaving something in he knew wouldn't work. Still, merely solid Bergman would be the highlight of most director's back catalogues. Bergman explores people's tendency to fall back into previous cycles of behaviour, and how memory can be corrupted by both time and wishful-thinking. Anna frequently recalls her perfectly balanced marriage with a man she shared an unbreakable bond with, but we know from Elis that her husband embarked on an affair with Eva. The final shot leaves many questions unanswered, and we are left to ponder them for ourselves. Despite the confusing manner with which the story is told, we are left with a kind of unspoken understanding.


Directed by: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Max von Sydow, Liv Ullmann, Bibi Andersson, Erland Josephson, Erik Hell
Country: Sweden

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #452: 'The Sacrifice' (1986)

Exiled from his native Russia, Andrei Tarkovsky shot his final film, The Sacrifice, on Faro Island, where Ingmar Bergman produced his body of work (and also lived). Tarkovsky also used Bergman's cinematographer, Sven Nykvist. He was also aware that this would be his ultimate film, as he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Unfortunately, whilst he survived till the release of the film, he died shortly afterwards, in the same year. The subject of his concluding piece is telling of his knowledge of his impending departure from the world, and it is fitting and profound, as you might expect from the Russian master of the poetic, and aesthetic.

Alexander (played by Erland Josephson - a Bergman regular, who also worked on Tarkovsky's 1983 Nostalgia), has a birthday, where some family and close island friend, Otto (Allan Edwall), come to offer their congratulations. They here on a statically-interrupted television broadcast. that a nuclear strike is imminent. With this news the family break down emotionally, and Alexander pleads to God to alter this reality, and offers himself in sacrifice to the ones he loves. This offering is seen to its fundamental conclusion when he wakes (possibly from a dream), and all is as it was, the threat of World War III seemingly never a subject of genuine certainty. Towards the climax of this film, is a one-shot take lasting several minutes, whose logistics are incredible, but Tarkovsky still manages to infuse the scene with some kind of mystical power, that I believe permeates all of his films.

As you would expect from a Tarkovsky film, the pace is slow (which gives the audience time to immerse themselves within the intricacies of philosophical thought, and the profound nature of the situation). But with this comes a flurry of beautiful imagery. The muted colours reflect the setting, with its cold, and subdued backdrop. And what is it that we do when we face death - a difficult moment to comprehend? We perhaps reflect on our achievements, and speak to our friends and family. And perhaps when we die, our spirit lives on in others, or new beings. Or maybe we simply continue in the minds and spirits of our offspring, passing on knowledge, character, and morality. 

Directed by: Andrei Tarkovsky
Starring: Erland Josephson, Susan Fleetwood, Allan Edwall
Country: Sweden/UK/France

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy