Persona (1966, Ingmar Bergman)
Persona is, to say the least, a challenging film, and considering the film is now over forty years old, I consider that an astounding achievement on Bergman's part, to create a piece of art that still dumbfounds, baffles and intrigues people after so long. It's a film that is difficult to summarise, as it's open to a multitude of interpretations, and is so multi-stranded that to attempt to condense it likely won't do Bergman's piece justice.
The film begins by breaking the fourth wall immediately, showing us various film equipment in flashes, a Brechtian device in a sense, letting us know that this is indeed a film. From this, we are shown many quick flashes - notably an erect penis and the word "START" from the beginning of a film projection, and following this, also a short cartoon clip. An animal is then shown being brutalised and disembowelled, and a hand is nailed to the floor, all before the opening credits. From the outset, Persona is incredibly surreal.
A boy is then shown in bed, and sits up to read, and is presented by a blurred face staring at him - is this face a window into some sort of other world that we are presented for the majority of the film? Is everything we see some sort of mental manifestation of the boy's mind? To say that a great deal of enigma is dredged up very quickly in this film is an understatement. At this point, even the most hokey-sounding theory could hold some credence.
The basic premise of Persona is that Alma, a nurse, is sent to tend to Elizabeth, an actress who has become a mute, although appears to be exhibiting no signs of otherwise abnormal behaviour - she is sane in every sense of the word. Whilst Alma makes the natural attempts to ask Elizabeth questions, she recieves no response, and instead, as Bergman has stated himself, the film relies heavily on the facial expressions of Andersson to convey feeling and some form of a response.
More and more questions are quickly piled into the mix, in that the brief glimpse we get at Alma's personal life at this stage makes her life seem rather empty, and even at this point it's not a far cry to guess from the way that Alma talks to herself that she is highly intrigued by Elizabeth's not speaking. It's a valid question, though - why is Elizabeth not talking? Her psychiatrist deems that her inertia is a "fantastic system", and claims that she in some way wants to be seen through. Perhaps this is some sort of shot at psychology by Bergman, I can't be certain, but needless to say, even as I write this review, I'm unsure as to whether the psychiatrist was right.
Alma and Elizabeth then proceed to take a trip to the doctor's cottage, where Elizabeth is considerably more receptive and cheerful, bonding with Alma, although still failing to speak. She will occasionally answer in nods, and they have some sort of physical bond that allows them to essentially communicate in some sort of base reciprocal fashion. It's at this point that the most interesting and important scene of the film takes place - Alma opens up to the silent Elizabeth about her life and her relationships, and judging by Elizabeth's facial expressions, she appears genuinely interested, but is either unable to or doesn't want to chime in.
Curiously, this relationship develops rather deeply rather quickly, with Alma proclaiming Elizabeth to be "the sister she never had", and the rapport, the dialogue between these two individuals could be said to be something of a "pre-Tarantino". It has that same infectious and highly-engrossing quality yet is essentially pretty inconsequent in relation to the plot. Elizabeth is essentially a sordid diary for Alma, and Alma begins to invest a great deal of trust in Elizabeth, telling her stories of her underaged sex affairs and her infidelity. The great attraction of Elizabeth to Alma appears to be that she cannot speak, and as such cannot tell anyone these secrets. At this point, it seems, at least to a point, that Alma loses all concern or interest in helping Elizabeth to speak. Alma proclaims she wishes to be two persons at once, and perhaps through essentially utilising Elizabeth as a vestibule to dump her dirty laundry, Alma is two people, especially if you consider this idea within the context of the events to follow.
There is also something of sexual, or perhaps more sensual, tension between the two. In a similar vein to David Lynch's recent Mulholland Drive (not least that one character is an actress), the two seem to have some deep understanding of one another, and at this stage at least, it appears very loving, and similarly to the aforementioned, the relationship takes something of a dark nosedive. It really never becomes clear whether the physical aspect of this relationship is overt or even reciprocal - one scene in particular where Alma intimately examines the contours of Elizabeth's face could be entirely non-sexual, a one-sided sexual fantasy, or a reciprocal sexual attraction that is hindered by Elizabeth's inability to speak. The fact that by this point, Alma is somewhat obsessed with Elizabeth (an obsession seemingly totally unmarked by sexuality, other than Alma's slight remark that Elizabeth is attractive) makes it difficult to pinpoint the sexuality of the relationship
It becomes clear not far from this moment that there is the possibility that Alma is insane. She swears to hear Elizabeth not only speak, but enter her room and interact with her, yet Elizabeth denies this with a shake of her head. At this stage, one cannot also rule out the possibility that Alma is dreaming.
Alma is finally able to gain something of an insight into Elizabeth's mindset by reading one of her letters to her doctor. Whilst the contents of the letter miff Alma somewhat, it is clear that Liz is an insightful, intelligent human being, whilst Alma is exposing herself as more and more unbalanced and emotional. If not clear to the viewer before this point, it should now be recognisable that whilst this is a verbally intellectual film, some of its more vital and truthful moments are espoused by actions and written verbiage, which is a feat by and large unmet since, and likely never perfected as masterfully as Bergman does here.
An important scene follows, where Alma's obsession with hearing Elizabeth's voice continues to grow, to the point of leaving broken glass where Elizabeth will walk, perhaps unconsciously, which barely gets a small whimper out of Elizabeth, much to Alma's disdain. Following this moment, the two stare at each other, and then the mysterious world these two live in again begins to break down into another surreal montage of imagery shown to us at the outset. When we return, Alma is gone, and Elizabeth is searching for her, eventually finding her in different attire at the beach. Was that interlude the missing reel in a film being made (an idea postulated by the brief shot of a camera crew in the closing moments of the film), or was it just some incongruent glitch in the mind of whoever was dreaming this (perhaps the boy shown at the start of the film)? Again, Persona is a film that raises many questions without many easy answers.
Elizabeth ultimately begins to find a sense of serenity in the cottage, a huge leap from her lethargic, hopeless self at the film's opening. Conversely, Alma is becoming increasingly tiresome, and seems hopeful that Elizabeth will soon want to leave, but her not wanting to do this can be seen as the catalyst in an intense argument between the two. Alma feels used and berated, particularly angered at Elizabeth writing about Alma's morally bankrupt escapades in the letters to her doctor. This tirade eventually becomes physical, and only once Alma makes a highly dangerous advance does Elizabeth utter one word - "stop". Whilst this seems to sate Alma briefly, it doesn't quiet her obsession, and only seems to feed the idea that Alma is in fact mentally unstable. Whilst deeming Elizabeth as false to the point where Elizabeth storms off, Alma moments later attempts to apologise, in a somewhat pathetic fashion blaming herself and breaking down. Once again, Liz, initially deemed to be the abnormal one, is reasoned, simply attempting to distance herself from someone being abusive to her, whilst Alma, initially seen as the "helper" and stable person, is something of an indecisive mess, and it makes for a gloriously telegraphed role reversal.
The true turn of the film comes as Alma and Elizabeth begin to merge into one person, namely indicated by a visit from Elizabeth's husband, who, proclaiming Alma to be his wife, has intimate relations with her, whilst "Liz" (as she seems to be some sort of a manifestation at this point) sits by silently, showing what is best described as marked apathy.
Arguably the most wonderful and iconic scene in the film involves Alma verbally attacking Liz, detailing Liz's pregnancy to her, heavily suggesting that Alma knows this because Liz knows this, in that they are in fact one and the same. Liz's inability or not wanting to speak had up to this point worked as a wonderful means of defence - she could learn much about Alma without having to reciprocate, yet this backfires, as when Alma runs this scathing criticism, all Elizabeth can do is pull faces, which appear to be either worry, sadness or shame, or perhaps an amalgam of all three - I'm not quite sure yet. What makes this scene so remarkable is that once Alma's speech is over, she repeats it again, although whilst the first time the majority of the shots focused on Elizabeth's face, this time they focus on Alma's face, and so we get some sort of a dichotomous criticism. Alma was at first scowling at the Elizabeth portion of herself, and now this time she's either criticising herself, or validating to the Alma portion of herself what has been said.
Alma from this point tries to convince herself she's not Elizabeth, and whether or not she is, it would be fair to say that by this point, Alma is not of sound mind, and the idea that she is perhaps insane has great weight. Furthermore, Alma's further irrational behaviour - hitting the table repeatedly, speaking incoherently, and rather disturbingly cutting her wrists all contribute to this theory.
As the film draws to a close, and we are shown glimpses of a camera crew, and the young boy from twice previously, there are a number of theories as to quite what has transpired in the last 80 minutes, and as Alma boards her bus, one is taxed with another question - is Alma escaping from Elizabeth? Elizabeth is now left alone, but more importantly, which side is real, and which one, if either, is disappearing for good?
Whilst this was more of an analysis of Bergman's existential classic than a review, Persona is a highly intellectual and intriguing film that likely requires multiple viewings to both fully appreciate and attempt to understand. After one viewing, whilst left somewhat miffed at some parts, I was impressed by the cinematography - this is arguably the greatest use of close-ups in cinema history, in that they are vital in telling us what Elizabeth is thinking and feeling. Persona is a film that people will still be talking about for decades to come, and especially with the recent death of Bergman, I feel bestowed to declare - rightly so.
Rating: 8/10