Sunday, February 24, 2008

Fanny, Alexander and Isak

At the risk that this blog is going to turn into a movie review site, here are some words about one of the greatest movies of all times, Ingmar Bergman's Fanny and Alexander
I watched the complete TV version (over 5 hours) again last night, and once more discovered that this is a film that never gets boring, but just becomes more fascinating the oftener one sees it. Whereas the Hollywood style forces the viewer to have exactly this-or-that emotion at this-and-that moment, and thus leads him or her through a predetermined trajectory that leaves very little room for any alternative interpretations or reactions, here we have a movie that leaves the viewer endless freedom to look at the same images, the same characters and the same story from ever new perspectives.
There are many amazing scenes in this film, but one part that always impresses me particularly was (I think) deleted from the abridged cinema version. Fanny and Alexander had been kept imprisoned by the sadistic Lutheran pastor who has married their mother, and have just been miraculously liberated by their uncle Isak, the stereotypical Jewish merchant and money-lender, and an old friend of the family (he used to have a secret affair with the grandmother when they were both much younger, they were discovered by her husband, who went for his gun - and the two men ended up becoming friends for life!). Isak now lives in a big house full of magical objects and moving puppets, together with his brothers Aron and Ishmael, who is living in a locked room because he is considered dangerous (and for good reasons, as the viewer finds out). The children have barely begun to recover from the nightmare of the pastor's house, and while they try to get used to the fact that they are now safe, Isak sits down and reads them a story. Modern directors would never dare to even consider a scene like this: 15 minutes at least, mostly consisting of continous shots, showing nothing but the face of an old man telling a story. It's captivating, but I will not try to summarize it here: you'll have to find the DVD and watch it yourself. Alexander's dreamlike vision at the end of Isak's story catches some of the deepest messages that I think Ingmar Bergman wanted to convey. And that means someting, for the whole movie is full of such insights. What a delight to see the contrast between the cold, austere and inhuman asceticism of the Pastor and his household, and the human warmth and colourful richness of the Ekdahl family household, with unforgettable characters such as Fanny & Alexander's uncle Gustav Adolf, whose sexual escapades with the maid servants are known to the whole family, including his wife Alma, but who is such a warm and generous character that nobody can remain angry at him for long. As a whole, the movie is a grand affirmation of life against the life-denying powers represented here by religious fanaticism and moral rigidity. In a key conversation, Fanny & Alexander's mother, Emilie, compares the austere "purity" of her husband's God with her own God, who is fluid and formless, hides behind countless masks and never shows his true face. For a time she is tempted by a desire to see behind those masks and roles, and the message is clear: this quest for spiritual purity, final clarity and definitive answers is deadly - it almost ends up destroying herself and her children.

1 comment:

Weathervane said...

I'm not sure that I'm wording this correctly but the Japanese government asked Akira Kurosawa to make a movie celebrating Japanese culture. The result was the resplendent, Dreams. While I can't verify it, I recall reading, somewhere long ago, that the Swedish government asked the same of Ingmar Bergman, and the result was the superlative, Fanny och Alexander.

Perhaps the closest Hollywood has ever come to an National Cultural Story is Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America. While it wasn’t directed or written by “one of us,” one of us could be any of so many other cultural origins, so perhaps it does represent us best.

I certainly agree with you that this is a special story and, I feel, Ingmar Bergman’s best. It’s all the more pertinent for us today because of the question it poses: Are we to live under authoritarian cruelty or be free as authentic human beings?

I watch this story at least once a year, usually over the Winter Solstice. Glad you brought it up.