A theatre viewer’s Bergman films: The Silence of God Trilogy: a case study

 

A theatre viewer’s Bergman films:

The Silence of God Trilogy: a case study

 

A recent article of Bratya Basu published in Boier Desh (July-September 2020) on Ingmar Bergman and his autobiography The Magic Lantern, compelled me to revisit the world of perhaps the foremost auteur of the medium of cinema and at the same time, a compulsive theatre-maker. I went on devouring nine of his cinemas almost in an incessant regimen. Basu, in discussing the artistic journey of Bergman explored the Swede’s background of theatre, and had commented that this fact had never been discussed by any theatre analyst, critic or scholar of the Bengali theatre ever. This particular insinuation brought to my mind a reference the legendary thespian of the Bengali stage Shombhu Mitra had mentioned in a class that I had the opportunity to attend to, in Santiniketan in the late 70’s. He was giving us a lesson on how to see a theatre performance, and went on giving examples from world cinema. And in doing so he mentioned Ingmar Bergman amongst others. But what intrigued us was while he mentioned Bergman, he pointed out that the Swede had had an enormous experience of stage production that had vastly influenced his making of his signature films, and that Bergman was an ardent admirer of Henrik Ibsen and, of course, August Strindberg. For the record, it would be worth mentioning that Mitra had also discussed the works of John Ford, Charles Chaplin, Sergei Eisenstein, Vittorio De Sica, Akira Kurosawa, Orson Wells, Michelangelo Antonioni, Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut, and from where one could perceive the ideas of framing, lighting, movement and such other things that make-up a ‘scene’.

But as there was no YouTube facility then, I had to wait for film-clubs, and there were many such, to arrange for such films in Sunday morning shows. I did see a few films of a number of these giants. Mitra had pointed out that Kurosawa had imbibed the traditional form of Noh in his films, particularly in films like The Throne of Blood, which I had the opportunity of seeing at the FITI, Pune, shortly afterwards.

However, the present exercise is a direct fallout of reading Basu’s article. As a theatre enthusiast and a cinema lover I felt it a sense of compulsion to dissertate the theatrical elements in the films of Bergman, though a number of scholars have written, published and spoken on this subject since the last couple of decades. This present dissertation is a very personal exercise for me to hone my senses regarding the wonder world of Bergman and that of theatre, as well.

Apart from the very obvious fundamentals of theatre like the acting forms, costumes, make up, sets, props, etc., other essentials like the narrative form, distributions and building up of dialogue scenes, background score and ambient sounds, and of course, the mise en scene that define the work and its creator’s artistic bend of mind, are shaped out depending on the very basic nature of the medium, that is, whether it is the medium of cinema or it is the medium of theatre. And that is where a theatre-maker’s stage job differs from a film-maker’s cinematic design.

But what happens if someone who happens to be world’s one of the most productive stage directors plunges into the world of cinema to create a new language? Ingmar Bergman happens.

Johannes Riis in his article ‘Notes on Ingmar Bergman’s Stylistic Development and Technique for Staging Dialogue’, had pointed out that two influences had developed Bergman as a complete author of films: his vast works in theatre and the theories of the Finnish psychologist and philosopher Eino Kaila. We would be concentrating on the first influence, that is, the influence of theatre on his films. As Jan Holmberg, the CEO of Ingmar Bergman Foundation had said that Bergman regarded theatre as the faithful wife and cinema as the exciting mistress – and that he would always return to the wife. It would have been prudent to discuss his theatrical ventures in short, but that, too, would also be a pretty lengthy affair.

For our case study we have selected the three films that he had initially called a Trilogy but later denied, and which he had made one after the other at the peak of his creativity. He had said, ‘These three films deal with reduction. Through a Glass Darkly – conquered certainty. Winter Light – penetrated certainty. The Silence – God’s silence – the negative imprint. Therefore, they constitute a trilogy.

Watching these films is a cinematic experience that has no parallel in the film world. And these films also have intensive theatrical attributes that a student of theatre would find greatly enriching.   

Considered as twentieth century’s one of the most prolific directors of the stage, having made 171 productions, including radio ones, Bergman, over a span of six decades, made 59 films that included television films and non-fiction documentals as well. So, it is naturally a challenge for anybody to discern out the evolutionary vivacity of his themes and his craft. The Ingmar Bergman Foundation has roughly chalked out five periods of his cinematic activities with the principal thematic elements in each. They are (1) 1944-1953: Working class and Young lovers, (2) 1952-1955: Marriage and Woman, (3) 1956-1964: Metaphysics and Man, (4) 1966-1981: The role of   and the artist and Woman, and (5) 1982-2003: Epilogue and Autobiography. The third period (1956-1964: Metaphysics and Man) is that span of his career when he made his most significant and his most defining films like, The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, and his ‘silence of God trilogy’ Through a Glass Darkly, Winter Light and The Silence.

This was the period when he was equally busy with his theatre productions. During this eight-year period, he had produced fourteen stage productions variously in Malmo City Theatre, Royal Swedish Opera popularly called Dramaten, eleven radio theatres and six television theatres. Thus, both the cinema-maker as well as the theatre-maker in him were equally active, and his theatre works naturally had a profound effect on the making of his films of this period, especially the trilogy, where one finds exceptional instances of chamber films, in the mould of the chamber plays of August Strindberg, and making them extremely personal and challenging for the viewers.   

The first of the three is Through a Glass Darkly was made in 1961. It is a film about Karin, a psychologically fragile woman (Harriet Andersson) who recuperates from a nervous breakdown while vacationing with her family on a remote island. Her father (Gunnar Bjonstrand) has been exploiting her illness for material for his literary pursuits. Her doctor husband (Max von Sydow) fails in his efforts to treat her. Her brother (Lars Passgard) is engrossed in his quest for sexual fulfilment. She further descends into isolation and even indulges in incestuous sexual activity with her brother. The entire family goes into introspection about the deep alienation amongst themselves. and questions the existence of God, while Karin meets God as a monstrous spider coming out of the attic.

Bergman built up the film in the typical structure of a three-act play. Following the chamber plays of Strindberg he kept the number of performers to the minimum; four players only play out the inner struggle of the human being to come in terms with the intangible presence of God and the enigma of love. 

Bergman’s next venture Winter Light (1963) is an exploration of the worth of a meaningless existence and a personal endorsement to face a world that seems to be abandoned by God. Here, a small-town pastor (Gunnar Bjornstrand) trying to minister a declining congregation, finds himself suffering from a crisis of faith as well as his failure to respond to the earthly love offered to him by his obstinately faithful, ailing mistress (Ingrid Thulin). He is thus unable to appease a disturbed parishioner’s (Max von Sydow) devastating fear of nuclear annihilation. He could only convey to the man his own doubts about the existence of God. The man commits suicide on his way back.

In this film, too, number of players is limited, and of which only three are the main conversationists. Bergman’s use of time, a period of few hours, reminds one of the short time-span seen in Strindberg plays and that which enforces the viewer to remain intent all through. As Peter Cowie, a specialist in Swedish films, says, ‘…he shoots the picture with an uncompromising severity that demands total concentration from the spectator’. A six-minute episode of the letter written to the pastor with a normal close-up of Thulin is such an example. The use of light by his cameraman Sven Nykvist brings the coldness of the theme, that is itself a lesson for the theatre student.

The Silence was made just after Winter Light and in the same year,1963.  Ingrid Thulin and Gunnel Lindblom, respectively, playing two sisters displaying contrasting attitudes toward life and are estranged emotionally from one another. The younger who has a kid son (Jorgen Lindstrom), is a bit of the sensuous type as Leo Braudy had argued identifying her with the physical type as she is shown bathing and having sex. She wants to break away from the bindings of her elder sister who is an intellectual type and is a professional translator who keeps sick and, according to Braudy, is repulsed by sex and only masturbates. As they try to reach their destination, metaphorically, their relationship turns sourer. The kid-son remains a spectator and is more of a ‘perceiver’. 

In this last of his trilogy, Bergman absolutely denies the existence of God and the eerie presence of the dwarves in the otherwise empty hotel with an elderly lanky steward-in-attendance gives the film that feeling of silence and emptiness. The Freudian implications, like in the previous two of the trilogy are much more starkly picturized. The nonverbal communication is done by Bergman with the use of the hands, which is a tool that is effectively applied on the stage.      

Bergman’s questioning of the existence of God and the absurdity of existence itself, are the defining themes that recurred in his films. But behind these there is the Strindberg shadow. Mysticism and allegories that the playwright had brought in, in his plays, and the dream forms are all, too, obviously present in Bergman, too. Johannes Riis has quoted Marilyn Johns Blackwell, who has studied how Strindberg’s character patterns of his chamber plays influenced Bergman chamber films. She had said that Bergman draws on Strindberg’s contrast between characters who ‘use words to insulate themselves against an unpleasant truth’ and the variations of those who are capable of perceiving supernatural phenomena, of divining the truth, and of stripping away the facades of lies and deceits, like the schizophrenic woman in Through a Glass Darkly, the forlorn mistress in Winter Light, or the kid in The Silence.        

And then there is the personal conflict with religion that both Strindberg and Bergman had experienced during their own respective lifetimes. Blatantly speaking, both had placed Love above God.

Though it is purely coincidental, but it is worth mentioning here that, Chetana on their forty-eighth anniversary presented Ujjwal Chattopadhyay’s Kusum Kusum, an adaptation of Giris Karnad’s Flowers, which happens to depict the same theme of the conflict of choice between God and Love. And watching it I felt the combination of the father in Through a Glass Darkly, and the pastor in Winter Light, both played by Gunnar Bjornstrand, rolled into the tormented character of the priest Abhay played by Sujan Mukhopadhyay. It was a great experience to perceive Bergman’s presence in an important theatre production of Calcutta.

[I would like to express my gratitude to Ishita Mukherjee for providing me different YouTube links to view some of the films.]