It began as a two hundred and ninety-five minute mini-series, split into six episodes and then was later edited down to a sleeker one-hundred and sixty-three minute feature (a process he’d later repeat with Face to Face and Fanny and Alexander.) The length of the film is the first unusual feature – the average Bergman film is around the ninety minute mark. This extended length helps to make Scenes From a Marriage his most personal work to this point. The plot structure is derived and dictated from its previous incarnation as a television series, the scenes themselves are also extended and protracted for a film so much so that it quite easily lends itself to a stage play rather than motion picture. Every scene in the film presents a conversation in relation to the major events which are never shown, we don’t see Johan begin his affair, nor do we see the couple in divorce court or any other key points you’d come to expect for a film of this subject matter. This method is years ahead of its time and the likes of Mike Nichols’ Closer owes a great deal to Scenes From a Marriage’s structure. Other divorce or extra-marital affair themed films like Robert Benton’s Kramer Vs Kramer or Susanne Bier’s Open Hearts often focus not only on the causes of a relationship break-down but also the wider effects on the divorcee’s family, most commonly their children. Bergman deliberately strips away any additional factors such as the couple’s offspring, or how each of them copes by themselves, or the financial difficulties which often dog recently divorced couples – instead he is exclusively and totally focused on the relationship, and the reasons for its destruction; any other aspects are completely extraneous to this films thematic intent. One of the reasons Bergman addresses is what is commonly currently known as a low emotional IQ. Marianne and Johan are both intelligent and sophisticated people, neither of them ever falsely compound their divorce through overly intellectualising the event, because they’re both incapable of such an analysis despite Marianne’s occupational experience as a divorce lawyer. Johan observes: “We’re emotional illiterates. We’ve been taught about anatomy and farming methods in Africa. We’ve learned mathematical formulas by heart. But we haven’t been taught a thing about our souls. We’re tremendously ignorant about what makes people tick.” Neither of them have the emotional intelligence to deal with their problems effectively, so they are incapable than doing much more than watch as everything fall apart. Shifting motivations also increasing forbid the couple from truly reconciling, initially it is Johan who leaves Marianne after his affair with another woman, later he grows tired of his new partner and wishes to undo the damage he’s caused only to find Marianne is now unresponsive to his pleas to save their marriage as she wishes to explore her new found sexual freedom. What Johan started can never be undone and despite his naïve and irrational expectations of Marianne he shall not find redemption through re-joining. It is quite an ordeal for both characters, and Bergman once alluded to the origins of the piece when describing an insipid and outwardly perfect Danish couple he once knew: “I remember they irritated me so intensely, that I once tried to seduce the wife (this is over twenty years ago). I failed, of course, and that made me even more annoyed. I did it in pure desperation just to bloody well show them. Suddenly I pictured them sitting in my old sofa and being interviewed. And I thought: ‘now I’ll get them…” This image of the couple on their old green sofa is where we start as they’re interviewed for a magazine article, they are an outward projection of perfection with only the slightest hints of problems under the surface, and their then seemly idyllic life style is systematically destroyed by their actions. Ullmann and Josephson are both excellent in their parts. The length of time we are left with these characters in one sequence shows how well both actors know their roles. Both are long term collaborators with Bergman, and the director clearly had a lot of faith in the pair. In fact it’s fairly easy to say that neither actor at this point had ever been better in a Bergman film or ever had the privilege of portraying such detailed and well constructed characters. They are flawed, sometimes loving, often cantankerous individuals, and had it been shot in voyeuristic style it would be easy to mistake Scenes From a Marriage as a documentary. The style is claustrophobic, the shots often remaining very close to their subjects with extremely tight shots and never cutting away from the often painful reactions to what is said. This claustrophobia is also unique amongst Bergman’s films and this element also contributes to how difficult it can be to watch in places, this is impart enforced by the film taking place on a busy set and shooting on 16mm for television distribution. But despite the claustrophobia, the small cast, and extended dialogue sequences, Scenes From a Marriage speeds by at a dizzy pace and once it concludes it feels like it was actually half the run time. The impact of both incarnations can be seen far and wide, it has influenced many films which came after it, entire lines from Woody Allen’s Annie Hall are taken directly from Scenes From a Marriage, and Bergman himself would return twice to this world which is one of the only times he expanded a universes into more than one film. But more than its cinematic implications were its sociological impacts. It is an exceptionally honest piece, which at the time of production showed events on film which hadn’t truly been captured before; it was exceptionally popular upon broadcast in its native Sweden and the repercussions were astounding. The divorce rate shot up, but so did the number of couples going for marriage counseling. Bergman himself once stated that he used to get accosted in the street by couples asking for guidance. It is true to say that to a certain extent Scenes from a Marriage is a fiercely depressing film, and it isn’t advisable to watch this with your partner for it may prompt an uncomfortable conversation in its wake. There is a sense of inevitable collapse of Marianne and Johan’s relationship, as if all male extra-marital affairs are just as natural as anything else which may occur in a long marriage, remarkably through it tightly composed examination of Marianne and Johan it paradoxically achieves a sense of universality, conjuring a sense these events have happened or are occurring everywhere. There is a peculiar shift in direction for the final episode of the film subtitled “In the Middle of the Night in a Dark House Somewhere in the World”, its longer and somewhat lonely title indicates the ultimate inconsequence to the couples earlier behaviour, in just the previous scene their relationship hits its nadir with Johan becoming angry, violent and threatening to kill Marianne after striking her during a terrify moment of total loss of control. But the final scene skips ahead some years in the timeline and sees Marianne and Johan divorced and now both re-married to new people and yet still having infrequent sexual rendezvous’ with each other. All of the torment and angst of the earlier scenes are now irrelevant, the emotional trauma which was caused is no longer an issue, instead there is a sense of forgiveness and that even in our life time with the worst things a man or a woman can do to one and other they can still achieve a resounding sense of the past tense - a bleak yet optimistic outlook on its dreary subject and what that presents a message by proxy that it’s pointless holding grudges.
M.Dawson |
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There are several unique factors to Scenes From a Marriage when compared to Ingmar Bergman’s previous works. It was produced in the later half of Bergman’s career in 1973 and at this point its style, time setting, subject matter, and run time were on the surface some what alien when compared to his earlier more famous outings. This was his first work for television, a move which would set the trend for most of his remaining major works. The plot follows the tempestuous relationship of Marianne and Johan played by Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson respectively. Over the various episodes of the film their interactions, extra-marital affairs, and eventual divorce are catalogued through a series of extended “scenes”. It is a deceptively simple plot and in this respect Bergman is on familiar ground, the cast is also very small. Ullmann and Josephson are present for the vast majority of the film, and most of the film is basically a series of conversations between the couple, and with a few of minor exceptions the film remains rigorously faithful to its title in presenting quite literally scenes from a marriage.
Bergman seemed rather fond of the world of Scenes From a Marriage, so much so that he made a spin-off film and a sequel. The spin-off From the Lives of the Marionettes was follows the childless couple Peter and Katrina who appear briefly and present an unfortunate representative prophecy for the collapse of Marianne and Johan’s relationship. Shot in 1980 and unusually in Germany during Bergman’s tax related exile from Sweden; it unfortunately doesn’t use the same actors, and is completely in German language. This continuity blip aside it is an excellent film, which delves so deep into Peter’s psychology that it gets lost in the mess of his mind, employing the very best of what had be come Bergman’s trademark analytical dialogue. The sequel is something very special, Bergman’s final directorial outing, officially a TV movie, but to call it such invokes a feeling of the mundane or mediocre, but most of Bergman’s TV movies are still of extremely high quality. The film is Saraband; shot in 2003 it is a fitting swansong for over a half a century of Ingmar Bergman. The film returns to Marianne and Johan thirty years after Scenes From a Marriage. Watching the films back to back can be a little disorienting, not only has time clearly taking its toll on the pair of aging actors, but the film stock and presentation has also completely changed. For those audiences used to watching Bergman’s more famous films from the 50’s and 60’s will find this aspect a little disorientating, but to our joy Bergman hasn’t attempted to modernise his style, only his technology. Unlike most sequels and spin-offs Bergman hasn’t attempted to maintain any set of visual rules, From the Life of the Marionettes begins in colour but then quickly de-saturates to monochrome, Saraband stays in colour but allows Marianne the opportunity to break the fourth wall, its also an unusual sequel in that it doesn’t solely concentrate on the extended narrative of Scenes From a Marriage. Marrianne and Johan are examined, and in a sense it simply extends their resolution, having not seen each other since that “Night in a Dark House” they are elated to see one and other but no real emotional baggage has come with them to this elderly reunion. There is something highly appropriate about this former couple; a sense of the final redemption for Bergman with their sweet relationship re-illustrating that time truly does heal all wounds. As with other Bergman films like The Faith Trilogy, and After the Rehearsal it helps to be aware of the world around Bergman, not that you have to read up on the man’s personal life to get enjoyment from his films, but it does add an extra depth to his work as most of the themes he’s examining reflect his own personal trials and tribulations. Saraband is no exception and does conclude his career on an aptly reflective note but also on one which looks to the next generation of artists. The films main narrative centres on the borderline incestuous relationship between Johan’s son Henrik and his daughter Karin. Henrik is a widower and his melancholy is being abused to keep his daughter in his somewhat pathetic and weakening grasp. It is a disturbing examination of parental dependence on the love of their children, and examines a complex relationship across three generations; but also shows the bright future for Karin as a musician whose talents are completely supported by Johan who must sacrifice his son’s happiness for the sake of his granddaughter’s future. In this story Marianne is secondary, and is basically the films narrator, the one who observes the final events of Bergman’s final film and as their tenth collaboration since the late 1960’s it is touching to know Ullmann was there to witness his final shots. Indeed it reflects in the wider story behind the camera of Scenes From a Marriage, in 1973 Ullmann and Bergman had recently split-up, and despite this they still worked together in the end. A some what sentimental view with a specific conceit which is not essential to invoke but if employed only serves to amplify the films emotional resonance.
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