Archive for April 15th, 2020

 © 2020 by James Clark

      Ingmar Bergman’s breakaway film, Summer Interlude (1951), introduces not only startlement amidst stick-in-the-mud proclivities; but one lone young man who heeds its uprising. He dies young, but his legacy is a diary, a diary that will almost certainly be lost within the purview of the action. But that action holds forth in Bergman’s enduring output, an output confined now to very few takers. However, it only takes one to make a breakaway in this world of ours.

Knowing very well that his more than difficult interest will be fumbled in this world of ours, his career takes aim upon a myriad of filmic constructs, in hopes that a vector, somewhere, will be taken to heart. The film following Summer Interlude, namely, Summer with Monika (1953), bears several imprints from the earlier film. The helmsman’s fastidiousness undertakes, in this first of many couplings, a measure of variations playable within couples (human intent being a possible buttress of primal dynamic), at significant ease, where the women initially occupy considerable zeal for gusto, only to subside into hard and frivolous entities; while the men obliviously squander their affection and fail to show enough courage. For the sake of a more specific introduction of the method, let’s recall that the musical composition of Tchaikovsky’s ballet, Swan Lake, is frequently heard, in a theatre in, the first film, though not played with distinction. In the second film, two buskers—one playing an accordion, and the other playing a guitar—play a polka in a low-rent courtyard, and the verve, body language and love in the performance (unloved by the spectators) becomes a moment of magic. The diary of the first entry becoming a small matter along with the statements of “glitches” no one notices, Bergman counters, by way of the second film, on tap today, arguably the most optically dazzling parade of his whole evocative career, under the auspices of brilliant cameraman, Gunner Fischer. Here, before taking his stand within the full-scale sophisticated sagas that would define his hegemony, Bergman would unleash, again and again, breathtaking visions to hopefully gain recognition from the patrons that the questionable melodrama, on the surface, could dovetail with something they had failed to recognize and develop. (Perhaps this is the moment to dismiss the likes of Jean-Luc-Godard and his political cohorts, who disseminated the utter insanity that Summer with Monika involved a new and powerful revolution to sweep away antiquated societies.) (more…)

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