A very feeble attempt at affirmatie action

A lot of fun.

Clever and entertaining enough to recommend even to members of the 1%

Tells a fascinating and unsettling true story, and does so well, without pretending to have all the answers.

If anyone familiar with the works of Bergman were to see this without advance knowledge, it would not take long to peg it as classic Bergman, even if Liv Ullman were not playing a main part.As the film opens Marianne (Ullman) is looking over many photos spread out on her desk. This prompts her to take a trip to see Johan, an ex-husband whom she has not seen in decades. Describing the complex relationships that exist between Marianne, Johan, Johan's son Henrik, and Henrik's daughter Karin could take several pages. Suffice it to say that, in the classic Bergman style, there is enough bitterness, anger, angst, destructive ego, sublimated love, and brutal verbal sparring to satisfy anyone who appreciates Bergman .Since most of this movie is dialog with close-ups of faces, it would fail without the superior talent of the actors involved. I was particularly taken with Julia Dufvenius as Karin. Where does Bergman find these beautiful and talented women?What is the value of sitting through such an emotional experience? For one thing it is to appreciate actors at the top of their form. And witnessing the men's inner selves exposed to the extent that we can see how they have come to live such unhappy lives, and how they can poison the lives of others, is instructive. The women fare better than the men.It is fitting that Bergman should end his film career with such an emotionally complex and accomplished movie as this.

The best way to thoroughly understand the films and theories of a certain director is to view as much of their work as possible. With Ingmar Bergman, the greatest Swedish director and one of the cinema's most enigmatic figures, it is no easy task. There are so many layers and levels to his films, implying the same goes for himself. After seeing his final work as a film director, I can honestly say these past few weeks during which I viewed at least 15 of his films have been the saddest, most depressing and thoughtful weeks of my life. Never has any other filmmaker been so challenging and stimulating as the quiet, serene Swede.In this quiet and serene work, Bergman explores even further the underlying emotions and feelings from the same characters as his great 1973 masterpiece, Scenes from a Marriage. He uses the passing of time and old age as catalysts to understand what the couple of Johan and Marianne have done since their marriage and what they continue to do now and why. A few other characters are introduced; Johan's son from another relationship, Henrik, and his daughter, Karin. These four people have much to say, particularly Johan and Marianne. Some scenes are so brutal in their depiction of raw feeling it can be hard to contemplate how someone could act so. Yet, Bergman never looks away, lingering his close-ups in order to extract as much as possible from the faces of these people.Watching this, I had greater and deeper understanding and affection for the entire arc of Bergman's career. In many ways, my life mirrors his, thus I feel similar to life as he does. Prior to seeing films like The Seventh Seal and Cries and Whispers, I never knew another person could so exemplify what I felt about life, death and God as he did. Now I know and feel much more empowered to carry on with my own life with the knowledge he has given me. Now, he is gone and it is sad. Yet, he wouldn't dwell on that, but rather carry on with what can be done. I thank you, Ingmar, for your empowering films and will never forget how you have changed my life.

Before watching this final film by perhaps the greatest film maker of all, I looked up the meaning of saraband in one of my dictionaries: "a slow, stately Spanish dance, esp. of the 17th and 18th centuries, in triple meter, derived from a vigorous castanet dance." Much intrigued by that title, and how it relates to a sequel for Scenes From A Marriage (1973), I settled back for a couple of introspective hours.I've seen only seven or eight of Bergman's films. Compared to them, Saraband is different in that the story opens with Marianne (Liv Ullman) talking to the camera, pulling the viewer in as though an old friend or family member. And, throughout the whole narrative, Marianne occasionally glances at the camera, with a wry smile, a confused look, a hurt expression, continuing the intimacy established at the start and firmly cementing the relationship between the viewer and the fictional players. As somebody once said, all the world's a stage, and so forth...Thirty years after divorcing Johan (Erland Josephson), Marianne, perhaps rashly, decides to visit her ex and…what? Even Marianne, after talking with Johan for ten or fifteen minutes, rehashing old times and so on, takes a moment, when Johan goes to see about dinner, to look at me with a resigned expression and say: "Oh, God, I think this was a mistake." As the story progressed, maybe she had a point.Because she becomes enmeshed between the opposing views of Johan and Henrik (Borje Ahlstedt), Johan's son by another marriage, about the future musical career of Karin (Julia Dufvenius) who is Henrik's only daughter and a talented cellist. Henrik, an accomplished organist and also a cellist, wants to continue as Karin's music teacher and get her an audition at the Conservatorium; Johan, instead wants to send his grand-daughter off to a master Russian cellist, mainly to get her away from Henrik who is, demonstrably, overly protective and overly dependent – almost abnormally one might say - upon Karin since the death of Anna, Henrik's wife, two years prior.Hence, Marianne is, in succession, subjected to the individual viewpoints of each, and valiantly listens, as Marianne always does anyway: to Johan's impatience and anger towards Henrik; Henrik's hatred and fear of his father; and Karin's sadness and indecision. The conversations are searing to the soul. Not an enviable position for Marianne to be in, but she copes – and in the process discovers, at the end, perhaps the saddest self-knowledge of all.The resolution of the triadic impasse unfolds, almost inevitably, and this is where the title is so effective – as a metaphor for the slow destructive dance the other three engage upon, each desperately wanting what the other doesn't, and all overshadowed by the ghost of Anna, loved and lost by all three. It's indeed painful and yet powerful to watch: painful because you can easily recognize aspects of your own persona, hopes, and fears; yet powerful because Bergman provides the counterpoints as more-or-less normal choices that face everybody throughout life.Bergman is not beyond making jokes, however, when Johan, in discussion with Marianne, remarks there're only two requirements for a good relationship: "a good friendship and unflinching eroticism." If that's not Bergman talking then it's Kubrick. And, later in a self-referential gybe, Marianne - becoming exasperated with Johan's carping about Hendrik – tells him he's "like a forgotten character in an old film. And a stupid film!"The most important jokes are always those that poke fun at oneself, no?When it comes, as it must, the final scene between Johan and Marianne is a testament to deep and abiding friendship that goes way beyond mere physicality or carnal knowledge. So, in my opinion, as an end to a great career in film, Saraband actually goes on forever and wherever a man and a woman meet to find out whether they belong to each other. What could be better epitaph? This film stands in its own right, as a poignant and truthful statement about human relationships. For better appreciation, however, I'd recommend seeing Scenes From A Marriage first.Recommended for all adults.

I have to say that I found this acclaimed swan-song by a great film-maker to be, at best, third-rate Bergman; even the lesser efforts from his vintage period are a good deal preferable to it – at least, they showed a real cinematic sensibility…whereas this feels merely like a piece of filmed theatre (and not a very compelling one at that!).Anyway, the plot follows on from Bergman’s much earlier SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE (1973; which I still haven’t watched because I can’t convince myself to willfully submit to 8 hours of misery!) – but, actually, the central situation here is almost a reprise of AUTUMN SONATA (1978)...only, it’s even less appetizing! The cast list is restricted to only 4 actors; another one, talked about during the course of the film, turns up in the last scene but her dialogue-less contribution lasts barely half-a-minute. Ironically, I was more drawn in by the performances of the two ‘new’ members of the Bergman stock company of actors and especially the young Julia Dufvenius (though Borje Ahlstedt was actually featured in 6 films written by the Swedish master as well as a TV mini-series, of these the only major title which had Bergman as director was FANNY AND Alexander [1982]) rather than those of old reliables Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson. We’ve seen these two do the ‘miserable routine’ too often to have all that much impact any longer: both are merely happy to acquiesce one last time to the will of the man who made their name – even if, for 80-year old Josephson, it also means having to appear in the nude! The film isn’t bad per se, simply too harrowing – and, for lack of a better word, unreal (surely not what Bergman intended) – to be taken seriously; I, for one, readily admit to cackling out loud at every melodramatic turn taken by the narrative or in the middle of particularly intense stretches of dialogue! Incidentally, much has been said about the inconclusive endings in the films of Michelangelo Antonioni (who, as everyone knows, died on the same day as Bergman) – what about the ending of this one, then? We never get to know whether Karin was informed of her father’s attempted suicide and whether this eventually effected her career as a musician, or even what became of him after the fact, or why Josephson is suddenly unable to reply to Ullmann’s phone calls. Ultimately, the film emerges as a singularly pointless venture – and light years away from Bergman’s best work.