All language subtitles for Bergman - A Year in a Life (2018) -- Jane Magnusson

With these insanely high expectations
and these impossible demands,

not only here in Sweden,
but around the world, generally,

it amounts to a lot of pressure.

So one just has to try and forget
these demands on one's person.

The year of 1957...

When it comes to Bergman's tremendous
productivity, all I can do is ask:

How was it possible?

Who are you?

I'm Death.

- Is that your ride back there?
- Yes.

A bit antiquated, eh?

It's impossible to imagine

how he could cope
with such an enormous workload.

Directed by Ingmar Bergman.

When I try to date something,
I date it according to films and plays.

I don't remember much
of my private life.

I can't remember
when my children were born.

I can't tell their ages. Only roughly.

But I can't remember
which years they were born.

Well, shall we get started?

Right, let's start.
Let's ask them to turn off the lights.

Every artist who creates intense
depictions of his own problems,

which he believes not only to be
important to him, but also to others,

needs to use himself.

And then, the issue of egocentricity
will always pop up.

It's inevitable, actually.

Uncle Isaac is a selfish old man.

Totally ruthless
and refusing to listen to other people.

He got a lot of inspiration
from his own life,

and dressed himself up
as all those different characters.

That's how I've seen it.

I would like to be
warm, tender and alive...

That's all Ingmar's own shitty life,
as he'd describe it.

He told me: My life is piss-awful.
All I have is my work...

- But your marriages, and your kids...?
- My life's still piss-awful.

Why the angry look? Are your nerves
playing up? Are you feeling tormented?

Shut up! Shut up!

I think this is obvious
in many of his films.

Take Autumn Sonata, in which a pianist

lives for her art,
but neglects her children.

Help me!

All these films, which people
think are about someone else

are always, without fail,
about Bergman himself.

...the Swedish Film Society Plaque to
Ingmar Bergman and Viktor Sjöström.

INGMAR BERGMAN'S NEW FILM

Do you like wild strawberries?

I know where they grow. Shall we go?

We can do it. We can go where we want!

The Seventh Seal
- best Swedish film this year

No Swedish dramatist has narrated about
medieval Sweden with such passion

since Strindberg's The Folkunga Saga,

and it's all the more amazing we have
the resources to do it on film...

I see - the camera's over there.

When I got there, people whispered:
Ingmar is over there. Better be quiet.

That kind of thing. Ingmar was there,
like the mast in the middle of the ship.

After that success,

no one has ever meddled with
what I wanted to do.

I've been allowed to do what I wanted.

- The plague!
- Stay on that side of the trunk!

I'm afraid of dying!
I don't want to die!

I remember the scene where
Erik Strandmark gets so scared

of the approaching Death
in his black robes

so he climbs a tree
and settles on a branch.

And Death gets closer and closer...

Damn, is it my tree he is sawing down?

Drat you, you scoundrel!
What's with my tree?

- No! I haven't got the time.
- No time, eh?

Then, the fool says:

Is there no escape?
No exceptions for actors?

Nope. Not in this case.

"No exceptions for actors?"
Such a wonderful line.

He was careful where the camera went
to avoid filming the blocks of flats.

They were there, not far from
what we called the forest.

- Who are you?
- I'm Death.

- Have you come for me?
- I've been by your side a while now.

- I know that.
- Are you ready?

- One moment!
- You all say that. I give no respite.

But you do play chess?

"Who are you?" And the man
in black replies: "I'm Death."

Then, either you accept that he is Death

or you think:
"No way, that's Bengt Ekerot.

His face has been whitened
and he's wearing a robe."

But that's the amazing
power of suggestion.

That's the amazing excitement
when you do things

and make people believe it all.

This film was an attempt

at ridding myself of my fear of death.

And to a certain extent, it worked.

I grew up in a rectory family.

I'm the son of a priest, and as such,
you live quite close to death.

Alexander, my dear boy...

Before these witnesses, you've accused
me of murdering my wife and children.

What?

There. He walks...

That's it.

Portraying that cold,
cold character was great fun.

He was...

A character made up
of so many unsound beliefs.

I don't understand...
Do you think a person can go unpunished

after dishonouring another person?

It was a horrific scene,
that whipping scene.

And Bergman said: "Goddammit,
you really remind me of my father."

Yes, I resembled his dad.

What form of punishment would you like?
Cane, castor oil or dark cupboard?

- How many strikes with the cane?
- Ten.

The cane.

I dealt with my upbringing
by lying and pretending.

And by assuming an identity which

my parents could view as acceptable.

I lied unreservedly and with ease.

Every now and then,
one was found out and heavily punished.

Stand up, Alexander!

- What would you like to say?
- Nothing.

You should apologise to me.

Like so much else in Bergman's life,

he projects some of the things that
his brother experienced on himself.

It's very odd.
It could be beatings, for example.

Ingmar wasn't the one
who was beaten, it was Dag.

I remember one summer at our country
place. I was 10 years old and he 5 or 6.

He was coming fishing with me.

I didn't want his company.
He babbled and scared the fish.

I said he could come on the condition
he kept the worms in his mouth.

He agreed, and I can see him
with worms sticking out of his mouth.

Half-crying, he was.
He probably swallowed a few.

- I'll put the coin here.
- What do you want me to do?

- You're going to eat this worm.
- What?!

- Shut your gob and stop looking silly.
- Alright, give me the bloody worm.

Let me tell you:
Ingmar was the favourite pupil.

We had the same teacher in some cases.

One day in front of the entire class,
this teacher said to me:

This morning, I taught your brother,

Master Bergman in whose
knowledge there are no gaps.

Looking at you, you're master Bergman
in whose gaps there's no knowledge.

Open your book.
The homework for today.

Faster! Faster!

The battle lasted for three days.

But haven't Swedish critics believed

that Ingmar was referring to himself
as a kind of self-portrait?

Well, it can't have been, as Ingmar was
a little angel at school, loved by all.

That was the case until he graduated.

That's cheating, Sir. Cheating!

Well, Ingmar was without doubt
our father's favourite child.

I was dad's whipping boy.

Dad hit me more or less
whenever he saw me.

Ingmar didn't really suffer, and was
happy to spend time with father.

He soon realised
that if he asked clever questions

on the life of angels and
what little Jesus and Heaven were like,

he was often rewarded
with hot cocoa and biscuits.

Holy, holy, holy
is the Lord God Almighty.

Heaven and earth are full of His glory.

My brother was in many ways

a human being who...

...was totally and irreparably damaged

because of the way he was brought up.

And in some way,
I had a similar upbringing.

You could almost say I was brought up
in the same way as my brother.

The damage was long-lasting.

And I have...

...spent most of my life sorting
myself out after that upbringing.

There's no getting rid of me.

What are you reading, Alexander?!

Good night, my boy.

In the 1930s, it was very common to send

middle-class and upper-class children
to Germany to learn German.

In those days, Germany was the great
cultural nation we admired and loved.

Even bigger than the US is today.

Ingmar Bergman himself has described
that stay in Germany as life-changing.

He came from a rather grey and dull life

into a world where people believed in
something and could die for something.

He admired this
fantastic speaker called Hitler.

He was on Germany's side
throughout the war.

I just could not understand
that he still, after the war,

when the concentration camps
were opened up...

That still, after the war,
he maintained that he supported Hitler.

And...

...that he still, even then,
defended him!

That is horrific.

My father didn't really
take this too seriously.

On the contrary, he was quite angry
with Bergman's way of describing that.

I'm pretty sure my dad
regarded that side of Bergman

as little more than posing.

As if he somehow wanted to show off with
feigned Nazi sympathies in his youth.

Some people are hesitant
and find it difficult to believe Bergman

when he says he was a Nazi.

I can somehow understand that.

Ingmar Bergman is a master of mythicism.

He weaved stories,
including around his own life.

You might think he was trying to make
himself - this famous man - look ugly.

There are such syndromes...

But after having spoken to him in depth,

I'm convinced that
he really did have such sympathies.

Sometimes, my reality
is completely distorted.

I manage to contrive of a reality

which is completely... ludicrous,
to tell the truth.

In retrospect, I've often thought...
I hardly dare voice it, but...

Today, we talk a lot about diagnoses...

I suppose today, he'd be said to have
an untreated diagnosis of some kind.

I was tall, hunched up
and terribly, terribly thin.

Like a scratch in
a photographic negative.

On top of that, I had terrible acne.

And I was most unhappy with my body.

And besides,
the girls used to think that I...

That I looked incredibly funny.

He didn't socialise much
with other youngsters.

He didn't know how to dance,
play tennis or fiddle with motorboats.

Nor could he dive head first
off the jetty.

He mainly sat in his room,
performing plays with his puppets.

From very early on, the world of women
was a separate country to me.

Unknown territory, and I eagerly
decided to start mapping it out.

Karin Lannby and Ingmar Bergman
met in an Old Town collective.

This was a dramatic period,

when we'd seen Denmark and Norway
being occupied by Nazi Germany.

One of the first things
he said to her was supposedly:

"We're just as mad, both of us."

There's every indication
that it was a stormy relationship.

Bergman was very jealous.

This was confirmed
by many who worked with him.

- Are you already jealous?
- I can't take you being unfaithful.

- Will you come home and kill me then?
- Indeed.

Well - do it!

And Karin did have a secret life.

She was signed up
by Swedish intelligence.

She was to spy on people in restaurants.

On foreigners that were
suspected of various things.

But Bergman didn't know this.

Why wouldn't it be true?

The first draft he wrote
was for his autobiography,

and at the same time,
in the same autobiography he wrote

that Karin Lannby
meant a great deal to him,

also on a sexual level.

He puts it like this: "She opened
the bars and let out a lunatic."

One's writings can sometimes
have a therapeutic quality.

Karin Lannby kept saying to him:

"You have to produce something.

You can't just go on dreaming
about projects and ideas."

And what happened was
that once their relationship was over,

then he started
to produce masses of stuff.

It was a bit like a battery
that had been left to charge

throughout their relationship,
and suddenly, the sparks start flying.

The critics were rather nasty.

However, some recognised his talent
but knew he still had to get there.

He was accused
of being a juvenile joker.

DIRECTED BY:
Ingmar Bergman

My first film, Crisis, was made
at the Swedish Film Studio premises.

I was unmanageable and
generally loathed by everyone.

And I was incredibly insecure.

He was shouting and ranting
throughout the shooting of Crisis

because of his own insecurity
and his ambitions, probably.

This was his chance to make films.

I think he wanted to exude:

"I'm Ingmar Bergman,
up-and-coming director!"

But I think Ingmar was
more nervous than anyone else.

He was worried
and suffered from stomach aches...

And he didn't utter a directive word!

But he kept harassing our very kind
cinematographer, Gösta Rosling.

He obviously wasn't well.
He was forever having stomach pains.

He was always tormented
he wouldn't be up to scratch.

I'm not a therapist or psychoanalyst.

I have the greatest of understandings
for his anxiety.

Anxiety is part of that
European way of making art.

I can't. I just can't!
I have so much angst.

The biggest dramatic production ever

It wasn't a rehearsal,
it was worship.

The atmosphere was palpable.
The air vibrated...

There was structure, a system and rules.

He worked and directed
according to a rhythm.

The practical work...
Everything had a rhythm.

Ingmar was obviously
talented as hell and very good,

and he'd decided to get
what he wanted, at any cost.

There is something odd about the fact
that I constantly produce

and I am always on the verge of starting
a new film, a new play or something...

That means that
the now is all that exists.

If I've finished a film, it's gone.
The same goes for a play...

He may not have been world-famous,
but he was the one in the theatre world.

And then, there's the two of you.
You're meant to be over here.

Let's put you over here. Right...

While Bergman worked there,

there was a huge sign over
the entrance into the main theatre.

It read, in several languages:

Håll käften!
Halten Sie die Mund! Shut up!

People didn't even dare sneeze!

What's that bloody speaker?
How the hell can you put it there?

Quiet!

Move that bloody microphone.

Can you just shut up in the corner!

In my headphones,
I hear a constant hissing.

Silence! Hey!

By all means destroy my play.

His eyes were always half shut.

And sometimes,
he'd do this and turn around...

He'd turn to his side,
look out through the window,

and say something
very clever and very profound.

And then, he'd look back at us.
We'd sit there with our mouths open.

He was always talking about demons,
but he was quite demonic himself.

Then, when you got to see
the dress rehearsal of Peer Gynt...

The play was 5 hours long.

It was so amazing that after those
5 hours, my only thought was:

"I need to get a ticket to see it again.
Now!" That's how brilliant it was.

How does he do it?
How did he do it?

The dynamics were unparalleled.
It was unbelievable.

It's hard to put one's finger on.
Sometimes, you can't specify it.

You just feel something come over you.

This is all adventure movies
rolled into one.

- That's better!
- Right.

There... Okay.

Quiet everywhere.

Silence.

Camera!

146-171, first.

As a director, he was exciting.
He was curiously enthusiastic himself.

He'd often look
at the settings through the camera.

He'd say: "Stop there.
Advance! Yes, bloody good!"

He'd build the whole experience
in an enthusiastic way.

Like this... Then, see, there's the
other one. And then it's down again.

He's totally convincing.

Look at her.

I think that's because he mostly
has well thought-through ideas

and he proposes things for a reason.

He was unique, because he
gave the actors such scope

to use their own ideas

and also their own intuition.

He watched them with excitement.

He couldn't stand when an actor

would only act
on the director's instructions.

He wanted to see
the actors' own inspiration.

I always felt that Ingmar
was very sensual.

A sensual person
in relation to the artistic work itself.

And he was very physical. When he
worked, he was an anti-intellectual.

Then, he let go of
any thoughts of the result.

He was 100 per cent present

and had a beautiful way
of touching the actors.

He was totally present. Seductive.

He was sensitive and incredibly caring.

- What do you want done differently?
- Maybe it's my own...

He'd put his arm around you and say:

"She walks over, turns,
and there he is... and Goddammit!"

He almost created a kind of...

Instead of wasting too many words,
he'd make some emotional gesture.

If you were attentive,
that would give you a lot.

Great! Bloody good!

The way he dealt with that
was to ask his doctor and friend

tell Gunnar that the disease he
was suffering from was quite serious.

Gunnar was put on medication,
and actually became depressed.

Then, he was perfect as a
doubting priest lacking faith in God.

And that, you might feel,
is going a bit far.

I'm tired of your concern.

Your mother-henning.

Your good advice.

Your pretty candleholders
and tablecloths...

I'm sick of your short-sightedness...

...your fumbling hands...

...and your anxious way
of showing you care.

You force me to concern myself
with your physical condition,

your troublesome stomach,
your eczema...

...and your days.

When looking at the footage afterwards,

I notice that the camera
has seen a lot more than I did.

It is such a phenomenal tool

when it comes to
registering the human soul.

The way it reflects in a person's face.

The more familiar I become with film
as my chosen medium of expression,

the more I perceive every film I make

as a way of expressing
memories, experiences, tensions,

situations and forces.

Thanks!

Do you feel you lose out because of
the more limited scope of television?

On the contrary.
The fascinating thing with television

is that I can produce close-ups.

Radio Sweden presents The Prisoner
by Bridget Boland, directed by Bergman.

We were working ceaselessly,

either because we were rehearsing,

or there was another opening night.

Or we might have been preparing
for some performance.

It was almost a neurosis of his.

I think that was it. He obsessed
about not being able to stop,

to put his pen down or to stop filming.

His time must have been used extremely
carefully, like something very precious.

I can't get the equation to work.

But he paid a price, of course.

He supposedly
tried alcohol in his youth,

but that didn't
strike a chord with Bergman.

Apparently, he behaved
very strangely and violently.

He only ever ate Swedish yoghurt.
When others had lunch, he had yoghurt.

After three hours, he took a break
and went up to his room

where he had his Swedish yoghurt.

He had his special diet
and his dry Marie biscuits.

He had a special table
where he had his script,

and the Marie biscuits he kept eating
on account of his irritable stomach.

When he'd gone outside, it was tempting
to take a biscuit to see if he noticed.

DO NOT TOUCH

He was a control freak
and knew what was what.

Not many people dared
to take one of his biscuits.

Once, an actor showed off by taking
a biscuit and Bergman never noticed.

So, someone from the team went
to take one, too, but he put it back.

"Shit, there may be consequences
if I pinch this biscuit."

We all waited until he'd had a biscuit.

He didn't have the top one,
in case someone had touched it.

Instead, he'd fiddle out
one from underneath.

It wasn't Max who took that biscuit.
Stig Järrel, perhaps? No, no names...

To think he wasn't undernourished,
and that he had such stamina.

I don't think he ever ate vegetables.
He spoke very negatively about veg.

Kind of as if vegetables
were something of a threat.

Something to watch out for.

It was... I think he
must have had an eating disorder.

Before anyone knew of the concept
of eating disorders, he had one.

Time for a coffee break.

- Coffee break!
- Okay.

Coffee!

I had stomach and intestinal
ulcers all the time.

I was admitted to hospital, was patched
up and sat there and wrote.

Ingmar could produce a film...

He almost wrote one
at the end of the shooting of the film

when his stomach problems
got him into hospital

and I had to run back and forth
with scripts for typing.

At the same time, he was preparing for
a repeat performance of Peer Gynt,

which had been on the previous spring,

and he was also preparing a new play,
Faust, which was opening that autumn.

But as I understand it, while Ingmar
was ill enough to be hospitalised,

he nevertheless managed
to write a new film script.

"I'm Professor Isak Borg.

I'm still alive, both
spiritually and physically.

It's half past three a.m."

...Isak Borg, and I'm 78 years old.

Tomorrow, I'll be awarded the title of
Doctor Jubilaris in Lund Cathedral.

Sara?

Sara? This is your cousin Isak.

I've grown a bit old, though...

...and sadness came over me,
but I soon surfaced from my dreaming.

He wasn't even 40 when
he had the old Victor Sjöström

in Wild Strawberries, returning to
his childhood, his family and all that.

He more or less revises his whole life,

as if he was standing at death's door.

I dreamt that I on my morning walk
had got to a part of town I didn't know

where the streets were empty
and the houses derelict.

We were forever arguing.

I had a latent stomach ulcer,

which started to
play up then, of course.

I was wondering what would happen

if Victor was to say
he was too old and couldn't cope.

But hell, did he cope!

I remember it as a nice summer.

Young actresses
were sunbathing off scene.

There were common denominators.

You knew that in this hen house,
that hen hadn't always been over there,

and that cockerel hasn't
always had so many feathers...

Sometimes, I even think to myself

a significant reason
why I chose the theatre

was to be able to meet girls naturally.

However, that's a somewhat awkward
theory and only a speculation of mine...

I have to say that Ingmar
always went for interesting women.

I think these women
have also had a major influence

on the way he looked at film and art.

That involves mutual giving and taking.

- Yes, but I thought Harriet came...
- First Harriet, then Bibi.

Yes, but Gun Grut first,
and then Harriet, wasn't it?

I can't remember
who he was with at that time.

Maybe it was Bibi? I don't know!

I was in Stockholm
and I'd fallen in love with a girl.

Her name was Gun.

- Here she is.
- Yes...

When I saw her
the first time with Ingmar,

I was reminded of his words
at the Råsunda Film Studios:

She was Battleship Femininity.

He kind of fell for her
hook, line and sinker.

And I'm making art out of your art,

your immortality, your boastfulness
and your stupid, intolerable virility.

So there!

- My young wife said you were around 50.
- The little witch!

- You're creating an opera overture.
- Have you been unfaithful?

Indeed.

David asks funny,
kind of informed questions.

And we laugh...

That night, after our meal...
We had drunk more than normal...

That evening, all hell breaks loose.

What are you doing? Have you
gone mad? Let me go! David!

What the... Stop it, David!

I told you to stop!

You're bloody insane!
Let go of me! Stop!

I knew about the story with Gun
and found it horrible.

So I asked if we couldn't
change it so he was forgiven,

or have him ask for forgiveness,

but he refused and said that nothing
could be changed - nothing at all.

I had a flat, you know,
with some bits of furniture in it.

And I got married quite a lot,

and then, that was meant to
be some kind of home.

I was never really that interested in
how it was furnished and that...

Spontaneously, I see it
as a wonderful world to inhabit.

Out of the real world.
We're now talking Fassbinder's pace.

Fassbinder was on amphetamine.
Maybe Bergman was on sexuality?

For large parts of my life,
this unfaithfulness has been a trauma.

I've been notoriously unfaithful,
both in my love life and in friendships.

And also, my best friends were his...

...wives, mistresses or his women
or whatever they were.

Talk about erotomaniac.

He must have lived in a
testosterone-filled hubris bubble.

Mother... I'm having a baby.

That's why I've been unwell.

I've wanted to get rid of it,
but I can't.

These women in their various stages were
probably all current in Bergman's life.

Either losing a foetus, developing one
or on the way to deliver a baby.

That somewhat bloody situation

was probably very close
to Ingmar's own balls.

Or to his heart.
It all depends on one's angle.

I felt very guilty until...

...I realised that this
bad conscience thing

for something so fundamentally serious
as leaving one's children,

that's sheer coquetry.

It's showing the world
a scrap of suffering

which can never, ever be compared with
the suffering these people must endure.

I've been lazy around my families.

I haven't made any effort whatsoever
around my families.

Mother actually once
made a comment on Ingmar

that she couldn't see why he needed
to marry all the girls he slept with.

A statement from a
long-standing pillar of the church.

I was deeply in love with my mother.

She was very beautiful
and in many ways unattainable.

She changed between
being very cold and very warm,

and she would
reject us children on and off.

You never quite knew what she would do.

But I was very certain of one thing:
I loved her passionately.

That's one of my earliest
childhood memories.

That I had such
strong ties to my mother.

I've been planning on taking the
children and leaving you for a while.

You don't like my family.
You want to humiliate my mother!

You want to get even
in a sophisticated way.

You might as well admit it!

I think that because one's first
relationship with women was one's mother

and other people's mothers
and missis this and aunty that...

That gave you a very odd idea of women.

We lived with the Victorian ideal
of the woman being the mother

who was unimpeachable
and complete.

And there was also
this total hostility towards sexuality.

That's how I was raised, anyway.

Go and wait in the room.

We're taking a nap.

That made women into
something mysterious and risky

having to be studied

and being regarded with enormous
fascination and massive dread.

Both theatre and film
are undeniably activities

with a very erotic charge.

In those circumstances, it's very easy
for sensual sparks to start flying.

He was a researcher into something

which he was very curious about.

He wanted to understand
and allowed it to take up his time.

You can see this in his scripts

as well as in his way of making the most
of actresses and telling their story.

In my experience,
he had a lot of the female in him.

I felt that he really,
really understood women.

We had huge spectra
and endless colours to play with.

They are very powerful,
but also very full of aggression.

Like in Cries and Whispers,
where she cuts her vagina to shreds.

Still, I'd defend those scenes, because
there's other stuff in there as well.

These women are strong,
intrepid or tender.

He was ambivalent to women, I think,

but what male creator
doesn't feel ambivalent to women?

I didn't take any roles from
my female friends and actresses.

No, I took roles from Max von Sydow
and Erland Josephson.

Because otherwise, he'd have written
a film that was about a man,

and not about a woman.

He had something to tell
about this thing: being human.

I'm still happy about Persona, but today
I might have made it differently.

But if you always knew what you
were doing, you probably wouldn't do it.

Persona sprang from
a kind of crisis around truth.

I had to decide what the truth was,
and when we speak the truth.

In the end, it got so difficult that
I felt the only truth was being silent.

But then, taking that one step further,

it became clear that
that was playing a role, too.

It's just another mask,
so I had to find one more level.

The water is cold after the storm.
Too cold to swim.

Let's not part as enemies.

You've used me.

I don't know for what, but now
I'm not needed so you throw me away.

I actually had the idea for this film
when I saw a photo of the girls.

They were sitting
next to one another, sunbathing.

I thought it was terribly interesting
and would make a good film.

Persona and Cries and Whispers
are the two films I single out.

I can't go any further than that.

When Ingmar was just Ingmar
in his everyday life,

he was the most normal, everyday man
you could possibly live with.

Only when he was Ingmar Bergman
did he have his rules.

"Don't come into my office
when I'm creating."

"When the door is closed, it's closed."

"I need to have breakfast alone.
I'm creating."

He loved things like television,

like The Forsythe Saga
and different series, which he loved.

We went for walks.

We took the ferry to the mainland
and bought the evening papers.

We did simple things.

We talked a lot in our bed,
which looked out onto the sea.

Everything we'd ever dreamed about
and hadn't dared tell anyone else,

that's what we talked about
and fantasized about.

Silly, childish things like there'd be
pirates coming over from Russia

to attack us.

And ghost stories!

We told those in bed.
He was a master of ghost stories.

He was the best...

The very best friend I've ever had.

He's never, ever done...

...anything to me. Ever.

That's one thing I know.

I have always seen filmmaking as an amazing
opportunity to go beyond the limits.

To stick my hand
through the membrane of reality,

to reach other worlds,

to concentrate events and tensions.

What, in my view, makes film
so mysterious and extraordinary

is the fact that it bypasses
the intellect and speaks directly...

Which also makes it dangerous.

It speaks directly to your consciousness
and subconsciousness.

- Should we do it now?
- No, let's move on.

Exactly there. And forwards...

There! Now reverse.

And forwards... Yes! That's it!

Film is something
totally based on rhythm.

It's all a matter
of breathing and rhythm.

Radio Sweden performed Falskspelaren,
directed by Ingmar Bergman.

That was the best time of my life
from a theatrical point of view,

because no one interfered in my work

and I had one of Sweden's best casts.

It was an absolutely amazing time.

...tax raid in Stockholm,
possibly the biggest ever made...

...against a director and a few actors.

You see, I cannot work,
nor consequently live,

in a country where
the bureaucratic representatives

have publicly and groundlessly insulted
me and called my honour into question.

We miss you here.

Your natural workplace is Sweden:
Fårö and Stockholm.

We would love you to come back.

Things are looking very promising.

There's a wave of well-schooled,
capable, very promising young actors.

I'm really looking forward
to working with them.

Can you already single out some
that may become Bergman actors?

They are always around. Definitely.

- You have your favourites?
- Yes, I permit myself that.

Ingmar Bergman was the king.
The emperor.

Anyone who wanted to act at the best
theatre in the world needed his consent.

He had to like you.

Sit down!

The overall atmosphere was tense
because Bergman was there.

When Bergman rehearsed,
you didn't make a noise. You tip-toed.

When you acted in his play,
you knew if he was in the audience.

It was like being put on a silver tray.

Nothing was allowed to disturb things.
The floor had to be scrubbed.

Everything had to be perfect so we could
sit in awe about what was about to come.

Everyone was basically afraid.

Afraid of forgetting the right props,
or if a piece of music came in late.

Then you knew that his wrath
would be almost annihilating.

- You just stay here, Ingmar...
- Damn right I will!

Yes. Yes! Fucking hell...

- Ingmar...?
- Yes!

Every morning before
he entered the rehearsal hall

the floors were washed, windows opened,

and his director's desk
had to be in place.

There had to be silence.
Ventilation systems were shut down.

Not one noise. And all that made
you think he was immensely serious.

But it was also a neurotic power game.

The worst thing of all was
the call from the Dramatic Theatre:

Now Ingmar Bergman had taken ill
on top of everything else.

That's your fault.

Imagine... Imagine if he dies!

Then, you would be the cause of it.

Ingmar is like Santa Claus,
handing out the presents.

by opposing some,
rejecting some, allowing some.

Because he's always manipulated
and had a finger in every pie.

No one came or went
unless he was in charge.

- Or maybe I should stand by...
- Yes. Yes, exactly.

- Yes... Ouch!
- Oh dear.

What? Something seized up. Fuck.

Everyone was fussing around him.

This blatant lack of moral courage
built him up as a monument.

The arse-licking that went on
was stupendous - totally unparalleled.

Classic schoolyard bullying.
Unsavoury games...

And everyone knew

that acting in a Bergman film opened
doors to a career abroad and everything.

I felt that he's a fucking predator.
He's a carnivore, Ingmar.

So I decided to take no shit.

I was dead scared of not knowing my
lines. I didn't want to give him that.

And when I got to my monologue,
he said:

"Hey, Dickey-Micky,
I shortened this bloody thing a bit.

There was a hell of a lot of nonsense."

- "What do you want me to do?"
- "Come forth, do your slur and leave."

"Slur? You mean my monologue?"

- "Yes. Do you mind?"
- "No, not in the least."

"Did you all hear?
Mikael doesn't mind my directing."

You quickly learn that animals
are not easy to shoot,

but it looks nice with a few animals.

Bergman didn't often include animals,
apart from the odd cat.

But cats never do what you want them to,
even if your name's Ingmar Bergman.

We fed them and tired them out,

or drugged them lightly,
but they still ran off.

Maybe he was too boisterous for them.

No! Bloody pussycat!

It might have been in Sawdust and Tinsel
they wanted a bear.

They'd managed to get a bear
from a zoo or something,

and at some point, Bergman got
really annoyed at the whole thing

and said something condescending like:
"Get rid of that bloody bear."

And the owner of the bear took offence,

and he was a really
stubborn man, that owner.

He felt his bear
had been unfairly treated.

And he said that for them to continue,
Bergman had to apologise to the bear.

Imagine! There's the proud
and self-centred Ingmar Bergman

having to apologise to a bear
in order to continue.

What's this strange world we live in?

Where openness and talking
is considered misplaced.

Where anyone
can call anyone their friend.

Thorsten Flinck was the next
major up-and-coming director genius.

And Ingmar Bergman
was at the end of his career.

And Thorsten was... hot as anything.

There won't be a realistic setting.

We won't be playing
in a classroom with a blackboard.

Nope. We'll be playing behind bars.
In a cage.

Thorsten Flinck definitely had

an aura of someone
who'll make a difference

and who's exceptionally talented.

Both as an actor and a director.

If someone feels threatened by
someone else's talent, they like to...

To form their own judgement.

It was like Ingmar wanted to
sweep the yard clean.

When we rehearsed the Misanthrope,
Ingmar's wife was very ill.

He knew she wouldn't make it.

It was a distinctive phase in his life.

He wasn't quite there. He was on strong
medication and was extremely unhappy.

He really washed his
hands of that performance.

This much later, I can't say
how much it had slid off target

but I'm sure Thorsten experimented
with the scenery and things.

I actually think
that Ingmar had a shock.

It suddenly became obvious to him
that he, himself,

was guilty of an effort
that left a lot to be desired.

And he was clearly unable
to accept that responsibility.

People entered and someone
asked Bergman if he was coming too.

"No, not me.
Come and sit down. Are you all here?"

Everyone was sitting
around the large oak table,

and it happened to be my birthday.

Virtually every seat was taken
by actors and technical assistants.

The only free seat was the one opposite
the grand master, so I sat there.

Everyone thought it would be the usual
dry biscuits and juice with soda water.

And then, in the weird silence which I
remember although it's 25 years ago...

...everything suddenly turns,

paving the way for something
extremely unpleasant.

And then, Ingmar speaks:

"Hey everyone, let's gather round
like one large bloody family.

What I have to say
is not much bloody fun.

We're not going to New York!"

Ingmar went into a total rage.

"The scenery is off.
There will be no tour.

And that's one person's fault.
If you all look... I said look!"

He was disappointed in everyone,
but most of all in Thorsten.

That was his view of things -
that this was all Thorsten's fault.

He was criticised as a person.
In every way.

This was among the worst
I've ever experienced

in terms of psychological torture.

People were totally dumbstruck.

Something happened that no one
in that room had been expecting.

Then, we were told to get out.

"But not you. You're staying."
He pointed at me.

And I also had to stay, so we sat there.

"You repulsive bastard. You're so..."

No, seriously, don't tell me you're
having one more go? But he does.

I remember sitting there feeling
nauseous with a churning stomach.

"I had to ask Antonia
to go outside and fetch a bucket.

My vomiting reflex kicked in
because he's so fucking ugly.

Can't you see? And it's all his fault.

You've ruined my play."

It was like the last scene
in a Shakespeare play.

This was the king's power struggle with
the prince, the next director genius.

This was not a case of...

He wasn't trying to make him see he'd
spoilt a play. He wanted to crush him.

It did affect me. Very much.

I can never tell whether my wife
is crying for real or affecting it.

But now, I wonder if it is for real.
Yes, I think so.

- Yes, that's what seeing death is like.
- Just shut up.

There's a limit to
how bad you can behave

and how heavily you can tread on others.

But history shows repeatedly
that we forgive the great artists

a lot when the result is so beautiful
and the films and plays so magnificent.

Maybe it's even...
But not at the cost of trauma to others.

But it probably can't be achieved
without that dark, twisted streak.

Bergman - second take.

I'll never be like you. Never.
I change all the time.

Ingmar Bergman's
The Silence

In Cannes, you were awarded
five first prizes in the 1950s.

You've had two first prizes in Venice
and the Golden Bear in Berlin.

And you've had two Oscars.
All this in the 1950s.

And in the 1960s, awards
and medals have kept pouring in.

You are doubtlessly the most richly
awarded man in the entire film history.

Ingmar Bergman has won the coveted
Oscar film award two years running.

- Did you expect that?
- No, not this time.

I thought once would be it.

...that search to find
the journey of a soul

and try to illustrate that.

You were determined you had neglected me,
and you were going to make it up to me.

I defended myself as best I could,
but I was helpless.

- There!
- Look like you cared for one another.

Yes, exactly. Freeze that! Great!

- Thanks, that's me done.
- Are you on for some more?

His new assignment is a great honour,
even if he jokes about it.

He's very successful. Forever. Amen.

What if we keep focusing on him?

Playback and music! And the chatter.

- Playback, please!
- Ready?

You're on!

And then, we'll position the puppet.

That's the greatest magic there is...

One, two, three!

I think this is one of my happier films.

I think I have somehow always
put this film in an up-beat category.

He tried dodging again, making
an extra lap in an anonymous taxi,

but was seen and followed.

He had to get to work, and this time,
no secret doors could help him.

First question: How are you feeling?

I'm feeling good. I have a lot to do.

- What's it like to have won 4 Oscars?
- I didn't win them. The winners were...

...Sven Nykvist, Anna Asp,
Marik Vos and the film itself.

It's great. I'm very glad.

- Do you think...?
- Isn't it tricky, walking backwards?

- Hello?
- Hi, Ingmar. How are you doing?

I've been down in the Valley of Death.

- Have you?
- Yes, I've been very bad.

- Have you?
- Yes.

These days, I basically live on my own.

All on my own, which suits me very well.

I could see his naked loneliness.

There was never a lonelier person.

It felt as if he was
walking around, bleeding.

Can you give me some human warmth?

Then he wanted you to stand behind him,
once he'd finished eating,

and massage his shoulders
for a few minutes or so.

It was quite touching.

Then, he'd say after a while,
maybe four minutes or so:

That's enough human warmth.
You can go now.

Thanks!

Yes, I think you're completely right.

He was lonely to the soul.

There's no alternative to being alone

if you're to accomplish
as much as Ingmar did.

There's no time
for a normal family life.

Nor for a normal circle of friends.

He means everything to me, that
stupid shit. But I do love him dearly.

His time, and all that his world
was facing, created his genius.

His masterpieces affected all humanity.

It had to be that way.

I want Ingmar Bergman to be remembered

as a contributor to film and theatre
of enormous significance.

We'll... We will never again see
an artist as great as that in Sweden.

Bergman has meant more than Strindberg.

But if I get my ears into the hat...

- Doctor Bergman...
- Eh...?

Imagine if 1957 was your greatest year.

- Why would it be?
- Well... What do you think?

- Two of your greatest films...
- No.

No, that's not how I see it.

I don't grade...
That's not how I think about it.

You see...

You see, I have a film...

Did I just shift your camera setting?

- Don't worry.
- My bum started getting numb.

Translation: Katharina Lyckow
www.undertext.se