2007 : compare with Kane [ hiding from oneself ] -- 8.5 problematics [ Mirror -- "Who Am I"? ]

filmplus.org/plays/bergman [script, credits]

CRAFT : FM : vtheatre.net/fm/bergman

... 7seal online


* flickr.com/people/vtheatre images 2006 + del.icio.us/anatolant/film links Film-North Blog



... your favorite scene ?

* Another key scene occurs when the professor's car is sideswiped by another car occupied by a couple caught in a horrific misalliance, both the man and the woman greedily feeding off their hatred for each other. As the men work to get the couple's overturned car upright, the female stranger stands over them mocking "He strains his creaky limbs to show off in front of that pretty young girl!" However, it is the professor in the frame wih the woman, not her husband. Later, the professor confesses to his daughter-in-law that the couple reminded him of his own rotten marriage.

* Bibi Andersson plays both the Sara from Borg's childhood, the cousin he was to marry, and the hitchhiker Sara who with her two companions befriends him with warmth and affection. The key scene is when the ancient Borg in dreamscape comes upon the Sara of his childhood out gathering wild strawberries. Borg looks on (unnoticed of course) as his brother, the young Sigfrid, ravishes her with a kiss which she returns passionately; and, as the wild strawberries fall from her bowl onto her apron, staining it red, Borg experiences the pain of infidelity and heartbreak once again. Note that in English we speak of losing one's "cherry"; here the strawberries symbolize emotionally much the same thing for Sara. Later on in the film as the redemption comes, the present day Sara calls out to Borg that it is he that she really loves, always and forever. Borg waves her away from the balcony, yet we are greatly moved by her love, and we know how touched he is.

... compare with kane [hero] & dreams [inner world]

topics: directors * films * movies *
2007 -- class # ? 2008 -- film-north

Bergman Pages : Film-North


calendar of Film & Movies

Film Study ***
NOTES: Reading script, storyboarding the "First Dream" [ themes : art of direction ]

... After -- Kane, 8.5 next? Textbook

Read "North as Idea" at film-north [ film with anatoly ]

"Protestant Camera"

... Nietzsche and movies (Kane, Godfather, Terminator and "Tarantino") -- it is if you understand Bergman.

"Requiem for a Dream" -- why Film Art went silent. [ 10.15.07 Dramatic Literature class -- "Chekhov Week" : the past in WS and The Cherry Orchard" ]

No Art of Cinema in the 3rd Millennium?

... Death of God Theology

my htmlgear[w] "NietzscheMachine" (quotations) in POV (Points of View nonfiction)

... "film = existence" ?

Compare W. with Dr. Borg [self-reflection] : topics : Father-Son, Family, Wife, and etc.

God and Self in script.vtheatre.net/themes


strawberries, still "wild"...

... video web [ bergman07 ] WS online [youtube.com]

filmplus.org/olays/bergman [Strawberries : script]

shows.vtheatre.net/bergman stage-idea

... director's STYLE -- how to define? (auteur theory of motion picture style)

[ Bergman's Memory slide show -- picasaweb.google.com/anatolyantohin ]

From Bergman

Dreams and "Dreams" [ Kurosawa's take on Self ]

A ‘Double Self’ -- NY Times July 30, 2007 slideshow

Ingmar Bergman: ‘The Poet With the Camera’

Ingmar Bergman, Master Filmmaker, Dies at 89 By MERVYN ROTHSTEIN



Marianne came up to me. She smelled good and rustled in a sweet, womanly way. She leaned over me.

ISAK: Thanks for your company on the trip.

MARIANNE: Thank you.

ISAK: I like you, Marianne.

MARIANNE: I like you too. Father Isak.

She kissed me lightly on the cheek and disappeared. They exchanged a few words outside the door. I heard their steps on the stairs and then the door slamming in the foyer. I heard my heart and my old watch. I heard the tower clock strike eleven, with the light tones designating the four quarter hours and the heavier sounds marking the hour.

Now it began to rain, not very hard, but quietly and evenly. A lulling sound. The street lamp swung on its cord and threw shadows on the light-colored window blinds.

Whenever I am restless or sad, I usually try to recall memories from my childhood, to calm down. This is the way it was that night too, and I wandered back to the summerhouse and the wild-strawberry patch and everything I had dreamed or remembered or experienced during this long day.

I sat under the tree by the wild-strawberry patch and it was a warm, sunny day with soft summer skies and a mild breeze coming through the birches. Down at the dock, my sisters and brothers were romping with Uncle Aron. My aunt went by, together with Sara. They were laden with large baskets. Everyone laughed and shouted to each other and applauded when the red sail went up the mast of the old yacht (an ancient relic from the days of my parents' childhood; a mad impulse of our grandfather, the Admiral). Sara turned around and when she caught sight of me she put down her baskets and ran toward me.

SARA: Isak, darling, there are no wild strawberries left. Aunt wants you to search for your father. We will sail around the peninsula and pick you up on the other side.

ISAK: I have already searched for him, but I can't find either Father or Mother.

SARA: Your mother was supposed to go with him.

ISAK: Yes, but I can't find them.

SARA: I will help you.

She took me by the hand and suddenly we found ourselves at a narrow sound with deep, dark water. The sun shone brightly on the opposite side, which rose softly into a meadow. Down at the beach on the other side of the dark water a gentleman sat, dressed in white, with his hat on the back of his head and an old pipe in his mouth. He had a soft, blond beard and pince-nez. He had taken off his shoes and stockings and between his hands he held a long, slender bamboo pole. A red float lay motionless on the shimmering water.

Farther up the bank sat my mother. She wore a bright summer dress and a big hat which shaded her face. She was reading a book. Sara dropped my hand and pointed to my parents. Then she was gone. I looked for a long time at the pair on the other side of the water. I tried to shout to them but not a word came from my mouth. Then my father raised his head and caught sight of me. He lifted his hand and waved, laughing. My mother looked up from her book. She also laughed and nodded.

Then I saw the old yacht with its red sail. It cruised so smoothly in the mild breeze. In the prow stood Uncle Aron, singing some sentimental song, and I saw my brothers and sisters and aunt and Sara, who lifted up Sigbritt's little boy. I shouted to them, but they didn't hear me. I dreamed that I stood by the water and shouted toward the bay, but the warm summer breeze carried away my cries and they did not reach their destination. Yet I wasn't sorry about that; I felt, on the contrary, rather lighthearted.

Stockholm May 31,1957

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