Dark, gloomy, and chillingly melancholic; the nihilism of Bergman. As close as it gets to total desolation and utter despair. Here he doesn't find any need for a direct recourse to "God", just the silence of mankind's failed search for meaning in a universe devoid of (inherent) meaning. Attitudes, whether based on rabid materialism, or resolute principles, seem to encounter the same lonely fate of inevitable death. The eternally rotten core that youth must take from a saddening bite.

The dystopic, impenetrable environment, complete with Charlie-Brown-adult-speak jibberish, only seems to magnify the fact that the obsessive problems of Bergman's characters are increasingly juvenile and stupid. That's Bergman's great paradox: whether you assume God's Silence (the original title) or God's Presence, both mindsets reveal your personal demons. And our attempts to justify our issues with pride only make matters worse. Sven's camerawork makes these dense ideas strangely tangible.

A dystopic stirring; no purchase on faith.

The weakest of Bergman's Faith Trilogy but still a great film by itself.

Strange atmosphere. You can feel the Bergman signature.

Hard to connect with. Impressive onirical imagery.

I truly love this film.

452

Bergman's vision of a world where God is silent (or perhaps never revealed himself at all) is almost like Bergman doing dystopia. Conceptually very interesting, but I can't say I was particularly enthralled; sometimes it just seemed weird for the sake of being weird. The hints of war were the more interesting parts of the film, for me.

Typically smouldering but highly emotional piece of cinema from Bergman, dealing with the intense, incestual (?) relationship between two sisters and young son/nephew. Interesting juxtaposition of playful whimsy as the boy explores the hotel, with scenes of startling sexual frankness (both for the 1960s and for Bergman) and intense suffering, foreshadowing CRIES AND WHISPERS. As usual, cinematography and performances are superb, especially Lindstrom as the boy and Jahnberg as a helpful porter.

Quite an unpleasant experience, though this is not to say I was dissatisfied. It's just that I pretty much felt empty by the end of it, and not in the contemplative way that I generally feel at the end of a Bergman film. Yeah, the sisters represent the duality of human experience, and the child's curiosity is compelling, but I guess it just wasn't subtle enough. I guess I'm just spoiled. I really did love the entire opening scene on the train, and the sound design in general really grabbed me.

Man, how do I rank this? There came a point in this movie where I realized I was going to need to rewatch this film in the hopes of catching anything. This movie made me feel stupid. It also made me feel a little uneasy, disoriented, and helpless to communicate. So I guess I got the emotional response down. Now I need to formulate an intellectual response.

So many questions left unanswered to mention, it sure stays with you forever.

#496

utterly disturbing, beautifully shot.

Bergman may know what this was all about, but it's a certainty that no one else did; so everyone thought it must be very clever and went to see it. Superficially, as usual, it is careful and fascinating.

My first one by Bergman. I was impressed by the feeling of despair and loneliness that kills everything human inside our souls. I cannot say everything was accessible for me and it is absolutely my fault. Next time I guess I will be more prepared.