#15 - PERSONA
My words mean nothing to you.
Persona
1966
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Bibi Andersson, Liv Ullmann
A famous Swedish actress has gone, inscrutably, mute. She has simply stopped talking. Her nurse accompanies her to the country in order to help with her recuperation.
Thus begins a battle of wills that is the entry to Bergman's philosophy. The film opens with a series of images that let you know this is going to be The Quintessential European Art House Picture, then gets underway. The nurse, Alma (Bibi Andersson) is fascinated with her ward, the famous actress Elisabeth Vogler (Liv Ullmann). No one knows why she has suddenly gone mute - in the middle of a play, she just simply stopped talking. Alma is determined to get her speaking again. She suggests that the solitude of a country house might be just the thing.
At first, Alma is clearly the one in control. She ministers to Elisabeth, who seems weak and docile. Alma is powerful and dominant, forcing Elisabeth to listen, filling the void in the country with her words. She is stronger, she is more powerful.
Quickly, though, this begins to crumble. Forced to talk to someone who does not respond, Alma's words turn from those of strength and assurance to confessions of deep, long-held secret. Most notable is Alma's story of an orgy she had on a beach - notable because Alma has previously stated she desires a "normal" life with a husband and children. "Normal" life is not supposed to include orgies in one's past. She exposes herself to Elisabeth, exposes her soul. Almost immediately afterwards, Alma begins to mistrust and doubt Elisabeth. She purposely places a piece of broken glass on the patio floor, waiting for Elisabeth to step on it. She is scared of the power Elisabeth seems to exert over her, and must physically lash out at her to attempt to regain dominance.
Ultimately, it's to no avail. Elisabeth's strong silence, defiantly mute against society, weakens and eventually crumbles Alma. Alma is no match for Elisabeth, and finally has no choice but to run away from her, to reject Elisabeth and the uncomfortable independence she represents. Alma is a weakling, her soul crippling under the overwhelming magnitude of Elisabeth's silence.
This paints the film as merely a power struggle. Hardly. Being a Bergman film, the power struggle is a means through which Bergman examines society as a whole. We are all so like Alma - superficially wishing for marriage, children, a house, without stopping to ponder what it is we truly want out of life. Elisabeth is stronger - she sees past these facades, past tangential human relationships. Her silence is a damnation of society, of its vain superfluousness. Ultimately, when Elisabeth proves to be stronger, it is frightening. Frightening because the basic structures of society truly do not hold up upon further inspection in this film. Is the basic family unit really such a flimsy tenet as Bergman believes? This is a frightening thought.
Persona is a hypnotic film, a cinematic opiate. It should come with a warning - "do not operate heavy machinery after viewing." The first time I saw it was in a movie theater, and the power of the film was almost suffocating. I sat there, stunned by what I had seen, unable to move, glued to my seat. Few films are as powerful as this.
Persona
1966
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Bibi Andersson, Liv Ullmann
A famous Swedish actress has gone, inscrutably, mute. She has simply stopped talking. Her nurse accompanies her to the country in order to help with her recuperation.
Thus begins a battle of wills that is the entry to Bergman's philosophy. The film opens with a series of images that let you know this is going to be The Quintessential European Art House Picture, then gets underway. The nurse, Alma (Bibi Andersson) is fascinated with her ward, the famous actress Elisabeth Vogler (Liv Ullmann). No one knows why she has suddenly gone mute - in the middle of a play, she just simply stopped talking. Alma is determined to get her speaking again. She suggests that the solitude of a country house might be just the thing.
At first, Alma is clearly the one in control. She ministers to Elisabeth, who seems weak and docile. Alma is powerful and dominant, forcing Elisabeth to listen, filling the void in the country with her words. She is stronger, she is more powerful.
Quickly, though, this begins to crumble. Forced to talk to someone who does not respond, Alma's words turn from those of strength and assurance to confessions of deep, long-held secret. Most notable is Alma's story of an orgy she had on a beach - notable because Alma has previously stated she desires a "normal" life with a husband and children. "Normal" life is not supposed to include orgies in one's past. She exposes herself to Elisabeth, exposes her soul. Almost immediately afterwards, Alma begins to mistrust and doubt Elisabeth. She purposely places a piece of broken glass on the patio floor, waiting for Elisabeth to step on it. She is scared of the power Elisabeth seems to exert over her, and must physically lash out at her to attempt to regain dominance.
Ultimately, it's to no avail. Elisabeth's strong silence, defiantly mute against society, weakens and eventually crumbles Alma. Alma is no match for Elisabeth, and finally has no choice but to run away from her, to reject Elisabeth and the uncomfortable independence she represents. Alma is a weakling, her soul crippling under the overwhelming magnitude of Elisabeth's silence.
This paints the film as merely a power struggle. Hardly. Being a Bergman film, the power struggle is a means through which Bergman examines society as a whole. We are all so like Alma - superficially wishing for marriage, children, a house, without stopping to ponder what it is we truly want out of life. Elisabeth is stronger - she sees past these facades, past tangential human relationships. Her silence is a damnation of society, of its vain superfluousness. Ultimately, when Elisabeth proves to be stronger, it is frightening. Frightening because the basic structures of society truly do not hold up upon further inspection in this film. Is the basic family unit really such a flimsy tenet as Bergman believes? This is a frightening thought.
Persona is a hypnotic film, a cinematic opiate. It should come with a warning - "do not operate heavy machinery after viewing." The first time I saw it was in a movie theater, and the power of the film was almost suffocating. I sat there, stunned by what I had seen, unable to move, glued to my seat. Few films are as powerful as this.