Classic Throwback: Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966)

Having declared it quite impossible to judge Persona after one viewing, I decided to re-watch the fascinating film again today. I first watched it in May last year, when I was working my may through Ingmar Bergman’s most acclaimed works. Though Persona has divided fans and critics, it is often considered to one of Bergman's most important films. The word ‘pretentious’ also pops up now and then. While imbued with a haunting, otherworldly ambivalence and transforming into quite an unsettling psychological drama in it’s second half, it is strangely unsubtle in its messages and yet simultaneously indecipherable. Still, I prefer his more accessible films, notably The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. 

The film opens, accompanied by the unnerving score that returns at intervals throughout the film, with a bizarre prelude, starting with images of a film projector lamp and several fragmented and disjointed images; including a spider, an erect penis, the slaughtering of a lamb (and the squeezing of its eye, which could be a reference to Luis Bunuel’s Un Chien Andalou), a crucifixion, and shots of elderly corpses. I’m not sure what other images were included in the 85-minute cut, but the version I own is inclusive of some of the images initially trimmed from the theatrical release and has a running time of only 80 minutes. To be honest, it feels like a very, very long 80 minutes.

Dealing with a personal breakdown, which leads to her complete rejection of speech, renowned stage actress Elizabeth Vogler (Liv Ullmann) is instructed to spend some time out of hospital with her chatty nurse Alma (Bibi Andersson). Isolated from the rest of the world at a vacation cottage the two are warmed by each other’s company. Alma finds it comforting that Elizabeth is willing to listen to her as she reads aloud and recounts anecdotes and personal stories from her past, while Elizabeth, interested in Alma, has enjoyed studying her as she does the talking for both of them. 

It is quite evident in the first half where this film is going. But, the fact that it builds such a dreamy atmosphere and opens with these projections, gives the impression that this will be a film that isn’t supposed to make sense (a bit like Mulholland Drive for example). Is Bergman’s desire to create a film that sparks debate? One where the meaning is so ambiguous that it requires multiple viewings to grasp? Perhaps there is no meaning. It’s a frustrating film. 

The film shifts at the half way with quite a bizarre twist that makes little sense. Following a series of unsubtle proclamations by Alma - “We are alike, I think I could turn myself into you if I tried” – Alma starts having some strange delusions. She imagines Elizabeth speaking to her (or doesn’t, but Elizabeth denies it) and then entering her room later in the night. They embrace one another, turn to the camera, and then appear to morph together as one as the image fades to black. The women's personalities have merged with their identities beginning the blur into one. The entire film is shot to resemble a dream so it is difficult to differentiate between what Alma interprets as reality. 

When Alma discovers a letter sent by Elizabeth to her doctor, recounting an intimate story shared by the two in confidence, her attitude toward Elizabeth is dramatically altered and she is angered by what she views as a betrayal. She grows tried of her prolonged silence and lack of reciprocated personal information, sparking conflict for the remainder of the film. There is a charge of eroticism constantly linking the women and Alma, out of anger, begins to attack Elizabeth's regrettable decisions about motherhood (which may be the cause of her psychosomatic illness). While she outwardly projects a level-headedness, her own inherent weaknesses become apparent too. Following Alma's repeated monologue near the conclusion, half of each of their faces fuse together, which is an extension of the earlier sequence in Alma’s room. The fact that Ullman and Andersson look alike is not an accident.

I am still no clearer on understanding Persona, or knowing how to discuss it. Intriguingly, Bergman is always reminding the viewer that he is present, constructing the film. Opening with the light of the projector and early ‘moving pictures’, there is an instance in the middle where the image splits and the print seems to burn inside the projector. There is even a shot near the conclusion of Bergman and Sven Nykvist (his long-time cinematographer) at work. The two central performances are fantastic, especially Bibi Andersson, but Ullman really does a fantastic job of using only her face to create her compelling character. The way the faces of the women are framed (largely through close-up) and the way the light hits their faces, is given plenty of attention too. While I love Bergman’s films, I feel I am now done with Persona.