Ingmar Bergman has failed to make good on his promise to retire for close to 20 years now. We can only be grateful that the man can’t keep his word.
For the past two decades, Sweden’s greatest filmmaker has been busy directing stage and television productions and writing screenplays. His new movie, “Saraband,” proves that, though he is well into his ’80s, Bergman’s cinematic gifts – along with his prodigious comprehension of human anguish, longing and distemper – are as vital as ever.
A very tangential sequel to “Scenes From a Marriage,” “Saraband” is actually a four-hand chamber piece in which the couple from the 1973 film and TV series, Liv Ullmann’s Marianne and Erland Josephson’s Johan, concede most of the emotional spotlight to younger generations.
Still vibrant and warm 30 years after their divorce, Marianne gets a wild desire to visit her retired professor ex-husband, unannounced, at Johan’s summer home in the woods. He’s as difficult as ever, but glad to see her, even though Marianne can’t really explain why she got in touch after so long.
Despite the old pair’s past conflicts, Marianne soon discovers that the real drama is unfolding in another cabin on the property. Johan’s son from a previous marriage, Henrik (Borje Ahlstedt), has been living there since his beloved wife died, training his own teenage daughter Karin (Julia Dufvenius) to be a concert cellist. A self-sabotaging loser despised by Johan, Henrik has sunk ever further into despair and destitution since the loss. All of his love and few remaining hopes are focused on Karin, who is feeling the pressure.
When Johan engineers a great career opportunity for his granddaughter that would require separating her from his son, Henrik and Karin must make heart-rending choices. While the relationship between the two men is one of contemptuous, mutual bile, the father and daughter are at a much more painful impasse, each truly loving the other and aware that what they need to take or withhold will cause more suffering.
There is a hint of incest to all of this, but small physical improprieties are outgrowths of much more gaping, psychic wounds. “This is all explanation, not an excuse,” Henrik acknowledges as he apologizes to Karin for an angry assault, in the bed they apparently share every night. Only Bergman could write and stage such a scene with devastating emotional impact but not a trace of prurience.
As ever with Bergman, it is the actors’ faces that leave the most indelible impressions. Watching old hands Ullmann and Josephson hit every nuance of feeling with consummate grace brings an odd giddiness to an otherwise sad tale. Dufvenius shows us that the current generation of Scandinavian actors is as capable as its illustrious forebears, especially in a long, introductory monologue that could come off as overwrought self-parody in a lesser performer’s hands.
And Ahlstedt – who started out in a different kind of Swedish film, the 1967 porno sensation “I Am Curious Yellow” – gives a master class in screen acting with expressions so pure and controlled that he can turn Henrik from pathetic to monstrous, or defenseless to oppressive, in but a few, thoroughly persuasive beats.
“Saraband”
****
R for nudity and language|1 hour, 47 minutes|DRAMA|Written and directed by Ingmar Bergman; in Swedish with subtitles; starring Liv Ullmann, Erland Josephson, Borje Ahlstedt, Julia Dufvenius|Opens today at the Chez Artiste.
