Reviews
Persona (1966)
A film greater than the sum of its parts
Deceptively simple on the surface, "Persona" may be one of cinema's most complex expressions. Critic John Simon has gone so far as to say that "'Persona' is to film what 'Ullysses' is to the novel." The comparison is apt. In capsule reviews Bergman's masterpiece is often reduced to something like... a story about an actress who stops talking and is sent to recuperate at a beach house with a talkative nurse at which time the two women's personalities mesh. (The self-referential elements, like the projector starting up, the film appearing to catch and burn, and the soundstage shot at the end, are usually not dealt with in these reviews.) But I think Bergman's working title for the film--"Cinematography"--gives a clue to what the film is REALLY about--or at least one of the things. "Persona" is about film; it is about the duplicity of film (tricking the eye into seeing motion; creating an illusion of reality, etc.) And it is about the mind's willingness--even eagerness--to accept the duplicity. It is about the duplicity of art and the artist (is s/he a humane observor, a voyeur or vampire--sucking the life from those observed?) In fact, it could be said that "Persona" is about duplicity in its broadest sense--the dual nature of things and the western obsession with seeing the world broken down into black and white dualities. But what's black is also white. Who's really the nurse and who's the patient in "Persona"? Who's the actress; who's playing a role? (If ever a film demanded to be made in black and white, this is it.) Yet "Persona" is much more than just a treatise on duality. It is a film that seems to be enriched with each viewing, and the viewer is enriched in the process.
Intervista (1987)
Mixed bag; brilliant moments
Watching Fellini's "Intervista" is a mixed bag--sadness, frustration because it is not better... coupled with moments of brilliance. I'm not sure there is a more poignant moment in the movies than the scene of a wrinkled Marcello Mastroianni and obese Anita Ekberg wistfully watching their former youthful black & white selves in "La Dolce Vita" being projected on a makeshift screen. That scene alone is a richly-charged commentary on time, memory, regret, self-delusion, love, missed opportunity, life and death--unlike any other I have ever seen.
En passion (1969)
Passion's masterful conclusion
"A Passion" is one of Ingmar Bergman's underrated classics (inaccurately titled "The Passion of Anna" in the U.S.) and includes one of cinema's great movie endings. "Identity" is one of the primary themes of the film, and the film concludes with Max von Sydow's broken Andreas pacing back and forth in the frame--in an empty, bleak landscape. As the camera pulls back, Bergman (or rather, Nykvist) optically moves in--creating an effect where the image "flattens out" and Andreas literally dissolves into the grain of the film. Brilliant!
Plenty (1985)
an under-rated tour de force
"Plenty" needs to be seen on a big screen in a theatre; more than most, this is a film that suffers in its translation to a TV screen. (Among other things, there are scenes that are simply ruined in the format change--like the hilarious scene of Streep and Sting on a sofa as Queen Elizabeth's coronation plays live on the tellie!) Sound is also important to fully appreciating the film--like the constant reminders of the sound of opening parachutes that echo throughout the story.
It's easy to understand why the film was not a box office success; it focuses on a woman who is not terribly likeable, but I contend that it is a movie rich in observations that transcend post-war Britain and the borish woman who develops in that milieu. "Plenty" is (among other things) about passion, diplomacy, memory, self-deception and the great expectations that are so easily squashed in our unheroic modern world. The film (and Hare's play before it) revolves around a crucial scene brilliantly played by a startlingly mad Streep and Ian McKellan's icily insightful foreign service officer--well past the film's mid-point. After his long-in-coming dose of reality, Streep's Susan takes a tailspin into the movie's melancholy conclusion. It's not an easy film to "enjoy," but the uniformly brilliant performances from Streep, Charles Dance, Tracy Ullman and John Gielgud make the film fascinating to watch and rewarding to have experienced.
Le notti di Cabiria (1957)
on the timelessness of Fellini's overlooked masterpiece
As a film-lover, there are movies that I've outgrown, movies that disappointingly lose their connection to me as I age and mature. Fellini's "Le Notti di Cabiria" is one of those movies that seems to grow with me. It grows richer with each yearly viewing. I never tire of it; I am moved in different ways each time I see it. Fellini and his amazing muse, Giulietta Masina, created one of those rare movie masterpieces in 1957 that comments on its time, yet remains fresh and contemporary as well. But I lament that this gem is so little known today. I trust its recent restoration will help remedy the movie-going public's oversight. The film's rich concluding scene alone (and Masina's glance into our eyes) remains one of the most magical moments ever projected on a screen.