#livullmann

(preferable trailer over original from Austin Film Society)

Film Intro and Purpose for Page

Heady Times = Heady Films!...and we’re all wearing masks right now, literal and metaphorical. To start off my new page I’m going to begin at the tippy top with Ingmar Bergman’s Persona, the “Mount Everest of Film Analysis”, which has been described as creating even more contradictions when trying to analyze it.    It was made in 1965 in Sweden and is commonly in conversation as one of the greatest films of all time.  Bergman died at his home where he filmed Persona on July 30, 2007. This was also my first day ever to visit Los Angeles, right before moving here the following month. I remember seeing it on the LA local news while staying at a beach hotel with my Mom.  I don’t know how I remember it so clearly but I can see that room now, in my head, and the news anchor looking into the camera.  It’s also worth mentioning that Michelangelo Antonioni, the Italian filmmaker, died on the same day.  Two giants of cinema.   I rewatched Persona late last night and took a copious amount of notes. I first saw this film 7 or 8 years ago and then twice recently. This entry will be more lengthy than future ones because I naturally felt the need to be more specific with this particular film...I wanted to have a fighting chance at semi-understanding it.  I will only look something up if absolutely necessary for factual purposes. Although (full disclosure) the “Mount Everest of Film Analysis” title was taken from the first paragraph on the film’s Wikipedia. This was before I decided exhaustive searches about film historians’ perspectives would just be too much for these posts.  Instead, I will focus on my unique thoughts and perspective about the film and what I feel is valid.     

After filling my head with Persona I went to bed. I then dreamt that I was in a writers’ room with filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson (who is one of my favorite filmmakers and will turn up on this page soon).  We began talking about his film The Master. I remember feeling frustrated in the dream that I couldn’t think of anything clever to say about it in front of him. He told me that films sometimes just fold in together in unexpected ways, almost by luck.  This prompted me to finish his sentence by saying that films sometimes generate these unplanned illuminating interpretations that are endless. He agreed with me, which felt good, even though in reality I was speaking for Paul because he was just a character in my dream...or possibly something outside the grasp of my conscious mind spoke for him/me.

So why start with Persona? Why start this page?? Because I am fascinated by the mystery of great films and believe there is transformation and understanding when one attempts to decipher "works of art” like this.  Plus, it’s fun for me and a rewarding challenge to complete. Mulholland Drive was my big bang moment (influenced by Persona) and I have been hooked on digging into these type of films ever since.  I’m also a filmmaker that has been working on a Short for the past year (which has been grueling) and feel I can improve my own filmmaking abilities by  breaking down these masterpieces in my own words. My goal is to attempt not to stray too far from what is objectively being shown while also using my own knowledge of what I think the filmmakers are trying to say...or, even better, DIDN’T know they were trying to say.  And I’m sure writing about the metacognitive nature of this particular film will reveal a lot about myself, which is what great cinema inspires.   

Enigmatic Opening

The film fades in and we are inside a film projector. Images begin to flash quickly and chaotically.  I will mention some below:   -A penis.  -An animated female character upside down that eventually holds her breasts.  -A silent era movie chase scene of a skeleton coming out of a chest, and then dracula chasing a man in his pajamas.  He fearfully jumps in bed and throws the covers over himself.  Is it just a dream?   -A closeup of a sheep being slaughtered, bleeding out. -Screen flashes white to a shot of Jesus’ hand being nailed to the cross, which to me resembles the tarantula that flashed earlier.   -Cuts to a quiet forrest, then sharp tops of a metal fence and next a dirty snowpile in front of a building... Why are we being shown this? I believe this opening operates like a dream.  Are these images preparing our unconscious for what we see later? It’s impossible to know exactly unless some detailed external commentary is given.  I remember reading Roger Ebert saying the sequence was Bergman stating he is creating a new type of cinema, expressing this by starting in the projector and ending in the projector.  This never crossed my mind while watching.

-An old woman dead on a table possibly in a morgue, then a man. -A phone rings.  The dead women suddenly opens her eyes. -A boy opens his eyes, waking up.  He puts on his glasses as the phone continues to ring and opens a book and begins reading.  He then looks into the camera at us (a motif for certain moments in the film, especially for Elisabet).  -Next, a reverse shot which reveals he is looking at a screen that covers the wall.  It’s a striking image as the music crescendoes.  The screen reveals what looks to be an unrecognizable woman that keeps blurring and morphing.  The boy touches the screen in a way that I interpret as yearning. Then it becomes clear the women’s faces on the screen are the main characters that we will soon meet and spend the film with, Alma and Elisabet. Their faces are blending into one another, but it is still not extremely clear.  I had to go back and rewatch this part to verify if it was actually them. “Not extremely clear” is a theme throughout the film.  Who is who? What is a dream and what is not? This motif of faces and masks.  Insecurities about what to show and what to hide, which I think was my main, simplified takeaway from the movie after the first watch.   Predeterminism is also something that keeps popping in my head after watching.  Alma cannot hide from Elisabet.  Elisabet always seems to know at key moments. The Conscious cannot hide from the Unconscious.  The Swiss psychologist Carl Jung was a large inspiration for this film and the term persona is his term in the context aligning with the film.

Then the title page quickly flashes, along with the boy in glasses again, then the two main female characters, all in individual closeups.   This film is shot in 4:3 aspect ratio, which is conducive to faces and the two female characters have amazing faces with the help of the naturalistic cinematography of Sven Nykvist. Below is a couple of quotes I found beautiful by Bergman regarding the human face:

The music is amazing here too at the opening...percussion and xylophone with chaotic crescendos, which seem way ahead of its time.  

And is this boy shown, Bergman himself?...putting on his glasses, with childlike curiosity, yearning, awakening to this experience of making this novel film and what it will tell him? 

Alma and Elisabet Meet

We are at a hospital.  The Doctor informs the Nurse, Alma, that the patient, Elisabet, has stopped speaking.  She is an actress that became mute in the middle of a performance on stage playing Electra and has continued not speaking for 3 months.  (”Electra Complex” is a Jungian term that is the female version of the Oedipal Complex.) Alma anxiously enters Elisabet’s room and introduces herself saying she’s 25 years old and grew up on a farm in the country.  Elisabet looks away.   Alma later tells the doctor in the hallway that she can not help her and “may not be up to the task mentally”.  In my opinion, Alma’s insecurity with her mental faculties is a huge part of the film, possibly because she’s unaware and/or unwilling to see her full Self.    Alma goes back in the room and blurts out that she doesn’t understand films and theatre but has great admiration for artists and is impressed by Elisabet, who then embraces her.  Elisabet possibly needed this validation. Alma soon leaves the room after turning on the radio with symphony music. A closeup of Elisabet reveals how deeply she feels this music. Liv Ullmann (actress playing Elisabet) has such deep eyes that are able to convey so much as tears subtly well up. She eventually exhales and turns away from the camera and radio.  These moments occur with Elisabet throughout the film where she shows this sensitivity and understanding of something outside of the sphere of what is going on between Alma and herself.  For example, soon we see her in the bare hospital room (beautifully and minimally lit) reacting to news coverage of the Vietnam War.  The TV shows a monk that has set himself on fire in protest.  This backs Elisabet all the way up into the corner of the room, gasping with her hand over her mouth and in closeup it’s evident she feels so much of what’s she’s watching...and I felt it deeply too.  

In the scene prior, Alma is shown sitting on her bed in her nightgown (possibly talking to the camera first, then herself) about how she will get married, raise her kids and how everything is “decided” for her, predetermined. Several phrases that she uses during this self-assuring scene: “It is inside of me”, “Already written”, “I don’t even have to think about it.”   Which to me, is a stark contrast to who Elisabet is...a mother who has left her family, who does not accept her reality and who wants more. Yet, Alma now is sleepless also, sorting this out aloud, as if coming back into herself because Elisabet has perplexed and disrupted her.  Elisabet fascinates her. She admires Elisabet. Elisabet has introduced this mystery into Alma’s life now and is living in her thoughts.

The Doctor Speaks to Elisabet

I’m not sure what others have said about this scene, but in the moment while watching, I found it to be the most revealing, door-opening of the film.  I think it is because the Doctor speaks with such clarity and assurance. It is a more literal explanation of what is happening with Elisabet and a lot of the other scenes do not reveal themselves so easily.  You have to chew on them a bit.   The Doctor is older, integrated, in contrast to the two younger fragmented leads. The Doctor recommends Elisabet and Alma move in to her summer home next to the sea instead of staying at the hospital. She says it will be better for Elisabet there.  She then says she understands the chasm inside of Elisabet and also the deep chasm between Elisabet and others.  The Doctor continues by saying that this feeling of falseness and lies and the constant hunger to be “unmasked” is causing this paralysis of speech.  Elisabet is still, carefully listening. Apparently the Doctor is onto something. The close-up two shot during this scene is also a motif that recurs throughout the film. Sometimes the two shots are not exactly like this but very similar. The Doctor is fully lit.  Elisabet is half-lit, in shadow on the side closest to the camera.   I wonder if this half-shadow lighting is connected to Jung’s term, shadow. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a literal, overt expression in the cinematography.  The shadow is defined as an unconscious aspect of the personality which the conscious ego does not identify in itself. Jung goes on to say that the shadow is often negative, because it is the least desirable aspects within oneself that has been conveniently ignored or rejected...because it’s uncomfortable to face (no pun intended). This is an accurate description regarding the characters. Alma also displays this rejection of the shadow multiple times that I will point out later. The Doctor then mentions Elisabet should play out this scenario until it is no longer interesting and then she can drop it, like a role.  Perhaps the Doctor says this to use a vernacular Elisabet will understand, but also connecting her condition to the mute persona Elisabet has now acquired.

The Summer House

It's amazing how much Bergman packs in to the first 22 minutes!

Alma and Elisabet are now at the summer house alone together, enjoying themselves in this isolated spot near the sea.  Alma grew up a farm girl, so is accustomed to this “rural seclusion”.  Elisabet’s coldness and indifference has seemed to disappear, moving out of the sterile hospital room to this new setting. The two sit together outside and go through mushrooms they’ve picked, both with similar style hats (light and dark) as they subtly hum a tune in unison.  Elisabet then compares her palms with Alma’s.  Alma grins and says it’s bad luck to compare hands.   The two are now on the rocky beach in their swimsuits. The beach is quite bleak, looks uncomfortable to lounge on and a bit other-worldly.  Alma reads a passage aloud from a book she’s reading, meditating on the “anxiety of the earthly condition”, perhaps something she thinks Elisabet will find profound. Elisabet takes this in, is moved and agrees with the existential description.  Alma however doesn’t agree, nor seems to fully comprehend what she’s read.   In the house now.  Alma has several moments where she begins to open up to Elisabet but then second-guesses herself, self-conscious of what the mute “artist” might think. And Elisabet IS hard to read.  She seems to me bored and distant at times, then lovingly engaged and listening.  Alma now smokes because Elisabet does and both dress similarly in black.

Alma continues to open up even more. A silent companion only leaves room for one talker.  Who is the patient now?  The camera angle features Alma’s speaking face in the foreground blocking Elisabet’s; one head blending together.  It’s as if Alma is discovering things about herself for the first time...about her chosen profession as a nurse and a past relationship.  The conversation moves to the bedroom.  Both are in their night gowns.  Alma tells a long, detailed story about an orgy on a beach involving her friend and two boys that approached them while they sunbathed nude. Elisabet is sitting up in the bed and Alma sits in a chair. Elisabet shows a few signs of pulling away due to Alma’s gregariousness and wears a cool “been there done that” expression, but as the story continues she becomes focused, still, and calculating.  If I had to guess, this sexual experience of Alma’s is the most intense event of her life. She had cheated on the man she is now engaged to and is so vulnerable here in her confession. The acting by Bibi Andersson is superb.  Alma ended up pregnant and had an abortion.  She weeps with guilt.     Is Alma’s mask fully off, revealing too much, bare to the bone?  What does Elisabet really think about all this? Is she “gaining” from this somehow?

They move to the dining table again in the other room. It’s raining outside.  Alma is loose and drunk, in a manner one is after a huge confession.  She again announces her inferiority, saying how boring she must be to Elisabet and what use she could possibly be to her. She also says that she should be more like Elisabet and not talk. Alma then points out how they look alike and she could turn into her if she made the effort. Then she says, “You could turn yourself into me just like that.  Although your soul would be much too big.  It would stick out everywhere!” My favorite lines of the film.  Alma then puts her head down on the table as if to sleep.  Elisabet then speaks for the only time in the film, telling Alma to go to bed before she falls asleep at the table.  Alma looks up blankly, puts her head back down, then pops up again and repeats what Elisabet just said.  Was it just a thought or did Elisabet actually speak?  Does Alma flirt here with Elisabet when saying good night? It looks like it.  

Alma’s Awakening

The bedroom is foggy.  Alma gets a glass of water then lies down in bed. Elisabet walks up the hallway into the bedroom, looking at Alma then into the white room around the corner. She then turns back.  A horn from a boat blows ominously outside in the night sea.  A slight breeze moves a white transparent curtain in the doorway.  Alma raises as if summoned, goes to Elisabet and leans her head on her wearily.  Then the iconic shot of the the two looking into the camera at us.  Elisabet places her hand on Alma’s forehead moves it back over her hair as if this is allowing Alma to “see” now, an awakening...Elisabet being the guide. Is this an opening of the third eye? It may be a stretch, but it crossed my mind.  The two actresses are so beautiful here, softly lit from above, and fold into each other afterwards like an integrated yin and yang as picture fades to black.  The music reminds me of Hitchcock’s and I’m not sure I like it, but the moment is indeed powerful. Did Alma dream this?  Does it matter?

Chaos

Picture fades back in and Elisabet greets us on the rocky beach.  She enters frame from below, taking a picture of us with a stills camera.  Alma is in the distant background next to the shore.  Elisabet walks to her and takes a photo of Alma as she clumsily poses.  Alma coldly asks Elisabet if she was in her room last night.  Elisabet shakes her head no and shows no sign of lying.  

Later in the house, Alma takes the mail to sent be sent off and has to take a drive to do this.  In the car, she opens up Elisabet’s letter to the Doctor in curiosity.  The first part of the letter is complimentary to the living situation and Alma, but then Elisabet writes, “it’s fun studying her (Alma) and how she cries over past sins.”  The letter also mentions Alma’s orgy and the abortion and says how she “complains that her notions of life fail to accord with her actions”.  Alma is stunned and gets out of the car.  She stands stolidly dressed all in black next to a murky pond looking at her reflection in wide shot. 

Alma is back at the house now in a black swimsuit with a grave look on her face.  This expression was nowhere to be found until this point in the film.  Outside she breaks a glass on accident and begins sweeping it up.  She notices she missed a large piece, but leaves it after seeing Elisabet coming outside.  The camera moves from the piece of glass as Elisabet’s bare feet pass by it, then back up to a watchful Alma.  Again, camera fixed on the piece of glass as Elisabet narrowly misses it and tilts back up to a silent Alma. Eventually, Elisabet steps on it, making a painful sound in response.    Alma watches from inside the house with a hard scowl behind a transparent curtain.  Elisabet stares back with a concerned, furrowed brow as if she knows what Alma did. A violent sound effect comes in along with a literal splitting of the picture, a deep transition within the film and the character of Alma.  She has crossed a line.

My first impression of the sound effect is it’s a film spool that is hung up in the machine...like the film has broken (similar to the glass) after Alma committed this act (or non-act).  The shot then literally burns up, starting on Alma’s face to a quiet white screen.  This effect would have seemed cheesy in almost in other film, but I think it works here.  It is simple and clear and connects to the meta, self-reflexive nature of the film.

Everything has changed now. Alma's insecurities have caused her to become darkened.  Her sought-after approval from Elisabet has been betrayed by the letter to the Doctor. She has lost herself and taken on a new protective persona. Or has she found power (even though misdirected) after her awakening? Pain leading to growth in her cycle?   What is for sure now is she is very far from the sweet, unsure nurse we saw at the beginning of the film. 

A voice in reverse is heard now (an effect David Lynch must have gleamed for Twin Peaks). We are again shown images similar to the opening of the film... the vampire, the skeleton, a spike going into Jesus’ hand accompanied by a disturbing scream and an extreme closeup on a shifty eyeball that the camera pushes in on... What do the eyes say and can the camera uncover it? Can we see the soul if the camera looks into the eye close enough? Camera fades in to Elisabet walking around the house, picture blurred and in slow motion, which eventually becomes focused and at normal speed.  She exits the house and goes outside looking for Alma. Eventually she finds her and touches Alma’s cheek with sweet, subtle affection and sits down to read. Alma is dressed in all black with dark black sunglasses. She acts cool and distant and lurks around behind a sitting Elisabet, poking at her with words and becoming visibly more upset and restless by the moment.  She soon loses the facade saying she feels used and discarded (like the Doctor explained Elisabet’s “acting role”). Alma continues saying she has been hurt very badly and laughed at behind her back.  She then confesses she read the letter to the Doctor and accuses Elisabet of getting her to talk and mention things she’s never mentioned to anyone! Alma pleads for Elisabet to speak.  The argument becomes violent.  Elisabet slaps Alma and bloodies her nose.  The two stop.  Elisabet begins to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  I thought Alma might join in with the laughter here but she does the opposite and runs into the bathroom crying.  She is so sensitive about being laughed at at this point that the internal turmoil just increases. After a while, Alma reenters the room calm and raw. She asks Elisabet if being truly genuine, telling the truth, not evading things, truly being oneself...sloppy and silly...can this be possible?  She says Elisabet might get better if she just allows herself to be what she is.  Elisabet smokes her cigarette, cooly facing the opposite direction and doesn’t react or show much at all.  Alma is unsatisfied with the lack of reciprocity and says angrily she knows how rotten Elisabet really is.  This strikes a nerve with Elisabet and she storms out.  Alma immediately feels regret and asks God what she is doing, then runs after her.

A long, beautiful tracking shot along the rocky beach as Alma chases after Elisabet apologizing profusely.  She says how honored she was for an actress of her caliber to be interested in what she had to say, but then how hurt she felt because she was betrayed in the letter.  Alma “blabbers on”.  Elisabet eventually turns as if she might embrace Alma, but coldly walks away.  To me, it was as if the mask was projecting one thing, creating a pause in Alma, thinking that an embrace might occur, then Elisabet’s action doing another thing, walking away coldly.  An example of the mask not connecting with the action. Alma falls to the rocky beach, distraught.

The next shot, in stark contrast, Alma is sitting serenely near the shore.  Elisabet is in the house, pacing with a cigarette, looking out the window (that reminds me so much of a shot in Woody Allen’s “Interiors”).  There is a deep anticipating heaviness that Bergman is masterfully able to create here with the help of the music.  Elisabet shows more emotion here than usual.  Is it because she is alone and no one is there to observe her? She shows visible sadness again soon after, alone in her bedroom. She then comes across a photo in a book. It is of Jewish children being lined up by the Nazis in World War II. Her sadness becomes deeper and focused, maximized by the horror-enducing music accompanying.  Elisabet’s empathetic contemplation here is similar to when she was at the hospital watching the burning monk in the Vietnam War news footage.   Closeup on the picture, which is of a young boy with his hands up as a gun is pointed at him.  The camera then cuts to various other closeups, bouncing around the photo examining every face...every mask.

What is Bergman trying to tell us here?  This may be a stretch, but my first thoughts were that Bergman is briefly pointing at something universal which includes all human psychological underpinnings.  It is connected to our two protagonists in the film and what 's happening with them psychologically, but for moment looking beyond them, silently illuminating the potential evil (the shadow) within all human beings.  That the fear of truly living without a mask can create such a sickness in man that one is potentially able to create this type of destruction towards others.  That instead of facing oneself honestly, being whatever it is that you are, that a mental illness can form and the persona can fully take over.  That one can become so identified with the persona of being a “Nazi” that they would point a gun at a “Jewish” child.

Again, back to the psychologist Carl Jung who looked to Eastern philosophy often as a reference for his work.  In Eastern philosophy there is a common belief that under the mask is the godhead within each individual.  To repeat from earlier, Jung believed the mask (or persona) was not the true self and could keep us from a much deeper, truer self which included a unified “collective unconscious” that all humans share.  Opposed to a healthy mask essential for social life, if it completely overtakes the godhead (or the true self) chaos ensues within that individual because one is also identifying everyone else solely based on their masks.  Divinity can no longer be seen in ones’ fellow man or woman.  All humanity towards others can potentially be thrown out the window because of this difference in “mask” and atrocities can occur because of the dual nature of this thinking, rather than a unifying recognition of a collective unconscious in the “other”. And if there are enough individuals, disconnected from the godhead/true self,  you get Nazis killing Jews. ALL mask. ALL persona.   And no recognition of the holy selfhood in others, which ultimately stems from fear, blinding the individual... And taking us back to the film of our two fearful protagonists where the persona is being focused upon.   

Does Elisabet understand all of this yet is unable to change herself? Or is her silence a rejection of the mask, a rebellion to conform and/or an attempt to get better? I don’t know.

We cut to Alma now in her bedroom and she is having a bad dream, shaking her head violently side to side.  She wakes up and turns on a portable radio.  Through the static it says “we don’t talk...listen...or understand”, then the voice says something about “Elisabet” and “by what means should...to enable.” Is the radio representative of her conscious mind tuning in to another frequency?  I see no other reason for the radio that randomly appears out of the blue. We then see Alma going into Elisabet’s room, who is asleep.  Alma begins watching her, smelling her, taking her in and even touches her face. She comments aloud how Elisabet’s face is slack and her mouth is swollen and ugly, then points out a wrinkle. She also mentions she can see a scar that Elisabet normally covers with makeup.  Alma seems to relish in the fact she sees her this way, with her guard down and is able to feel superior in this moment.  Alma hears a voice from another room that says “Elisabet” and leaves.  Is it the radio from a few moments before?  Elisabet then opens her eyes and looks into the camera again at us.  She was not asleep. She was acting like she was sleeping.  Even when Alma thought she was superior, Elisabet was still conscious.  Perhaps because the unconscious never sleeps and Elisabet is representative of the unconscious.     

"Elisabet” and Mr. Vogler

This next part becomes the most surreal and hardest to understand in my opinion.  It is dawn now.  Alma walks through the house, then is startled by Mr. Vogler, Elisabet’s husband.  He calls Alma “Elisabet” and begins explaining how this has been hard on their little boy and continues further about their relationship.  Alma once again says she is not his wife, as Elisabet creeps up from behind fixated on Mr. Vogler, lurking behind Alma’s shoulder in a two-shot closeup.  Elisabet then guides Alma’s hand up to caress Mr.Vogler’s face, like Alma is her puppet.  He is a strange, stern looking man with dark sunglasses. Alma now is under the spell that this is her husband, and says she loves him very much. We’re now watching in a reverse shot with Elisabet in the foreground, looking upset, as the other two are professing their love for one another.  Alma moves her gaze to Elisabet in a conniving way and continues with Mr. Vogler in spite of Elisabet and they kiss. This is one of the most puzzling parts of the film to me and I found myself, mentally, wanting to check out.  I had to consciously will myself to pay close attention and try to decode this. I think because it smashed the narrative I currently had going in my head of what I thought the film was.  It’s as if Alma is now a vessel controlled by Elisabet, but why? Alma seems to be unaware of Elisabet, then aware. Is it because Alma, who adores Elisabet, can now see what it's like to be in her shoes?  Is Elisabet upset because Alma is now privy to this? I think there is also a deeper subtext throughout the film where Alma is representative of the “conscious” and Elisabet the “unconscious”, which is running parallel to what is literally being shown, yet sometimes they blend like a dream.  I’ve mentioned this once and is worth mentioning again.   Alma/Elisabet and Mr. Vogler are laying down now and it seems they have just made love.  Alma/Elisabet soon goes from tender to a violent struggle asking to be anesthetized! She cries saying she is cold and rotten and indifferent, “all lies and imitation”.  The camera moves to an extreme closeup on Elisabet and fades to white.   Does Alma clearly see Elisabet now?  Was Alma able to break through Elisabet’s persona and truly feel what it was like for her with her husband and why they are estranged? Or it could very well be Elisabet detaching herself from the past experience and processing it this way as we see things from her point of view.  And rather than Bergman showing a flashback with Elisabet and Mr. Vogler, he presents it this way with Alma standing in? I keep asking these questions because I feel the questions are more important than the answers.  A film that just gives answers is not a film I am interested in seeing.  If answers are the most important thing then one should just read the dictionary and not watch Persona.    

Alma Strengthened?

It is daylight now.  Mr. Vogler is nowhere to be found.  The scene starts as almost a complete nosequitar to what just occured. Alma sees Elisabet hiding something under her hand and makes her show what it is, like a student being disciplined by a teacher.  It is a picture of Elisabet’s child. Alma asks her to talk about it. Elisabet shakes her head no, so Alma speaks for her.   Alma’s attitude is similar to the Doctor’s now and is dressed exactly like Elisabet.  Both have been in black most of the time, but now it is exactly matching, up to the detail of the black headband.    So why is it important they dress in black?  There must a reason, or several. I’ve seen some far out interpretations of what this film is, so I’m going to take a swing regarding a possible reason why this deep black is worn by the characters a majority of the time.    Both are in a state of “dying”.  Not in the physical sense, but psychologically...a chaos, a putrefaction (alchemy term).  It doesn’t necessarily mean something so simple as “black is negative”/“white is positive”, but chaos/putrefaction/psychological death is an essential stage in life as fragmented reality occurs.  It is impossible to stay in the light all the time.  We are human.  We are foulable beings tossed out of the Garden of Eden.  We become confused, tragedy occurs, we become fearful. This is what life is and it’s inevitable.   In this film’s case, unity does not reign but a duality of “Alma” and “Elisabet”, who must pass through this stage in the cycle in order to become unified and “in the light” again (atleast that’s the goal).  The film is at a point in their lives in which chaos reigns, for reasons I’ve previously highlighted regarding the shadow, persona and self.  And Carl Jung was very well-versed in Alchemy and it’s metaphors, as I assume Bergman was as well.  Also, perhaps this connects to the morgue and skeleton during the beginning sequence

This is the most still and confident we have seen Alma in the film. Alma now begins to speak Elisabet’s story to Elisabet. This begins with a comment someone made to Elisabet at a party telling her that she had everything as a woman and an artist but lacked motherliness. Elisabet, in turn, then became pregnant. Elisabet next felt frightened, in over her head regarding all that pregnancy and motherhood required of her, but she “played the role”, put on the persona as a Mother. As Alma speaks, this is the most emotion Elisabet has shown in front of Alma the entire film, looking away, furrowing her brow, half-lit, terrified and found out!  Alma continues, saying Elisabet had wished the baby would’ve been stillborn and a deep shame washes over Elisabet as she ducks her head.  Alma is vicious, continuing on about how much Elisabet despised the baby, how it cried day and night and how she was scared with a bad conscience. The boy eventually went to live with relatives and Elisabet went back to the theatre.  The boy loves his mother greatly, but Elisabet is always cold and indifferent...disgusted by him. The scene then starts over again, but with an over-the-shoulder shot onto Alma this time.  The exact same dialogue is repeated and we have to again hear this painful dressing down of Elisabet and her resentful relationship with her son.    The over-the-shoulder shot turns into two 1-shots, the same as with Elisabet the first time.  Alma is also half-lit and I don’t think she ever blinks (which made me think of Paul Thomas Anderson’s film The Master scene at the table but between two men.)

After Alma finishes (on a straight-ahead closeup) Elisabet’s face begin to take up the darkly lit half of Alma’s and she says, “No! I’m not like you”, “I’m Sister Alma, I’m just here to help you.”   The two faces are now one.  Duality to Unity. Both face-halfs are now in the light.   Elisabet’s half appears and disappears a few times and then appears fully with punctuating music at the end of the scene, freeze-framing before fading to gray.  It is striking how well their faces actually match up.

Obviously I’m going to expand on what I think happened here. Alma has entered Elisabet’s head so deeply, she was able to intuit this dark story about Elisabet and all of the unflattering details.  Alma had to suffer to get to this point in order to enter Elisabet’s mind.  And her entry is so intense she begins to lose herself.  Her self-assuredness then quickly turns back to the vulnerable, scared Alma from before.   Is this for the best Elisabet hears this?  I kept thinking while watching that a regular moviegoer would interpret this as overly harsh by Alma.   But it is also Elisabet becoming fully aware of why she decided to become pregnant in the first place and the subsequent emotional damage caused to her son.  It then covers up to the point where she becomes mute during the Electra play.  Elisabet needed Alma in order to get to this point of realization, as painful as it might’ve been.

A Standoff and Enigmatic Ending

We open on a 1-shot of Elisabet and a quick close-up catching a glimmer of defiance as Alma enters the room with her nurse’s outfit on now. Alma attempts to match her defiance and a stareoff ensues.   Alma says she’s learned quite a bit and physically punches forward directly in front of an unflinching Elisabet.  Alma then leans in and says she will never be like Elisabet (denying the shadow) and says she changes all the time and Elisabet will never get to her. 

Another stareoff. Soon Alma breaks and begins nervously hitting the table.  

I have thought about this scene moreso than any other scene after watching the film.  To me, there is so much to unpack.  Alma is never able to get a leg up on Elisabet for very long.  Again, I think this reinforces the metaphor that the conscious is unable to escape the unconscious. The same as a human being unable to escape the eye of God.  This is why pre-determination was mentioned at the beginning of this post.  If we are following this logic, Alma is predetermined not to gain a mental edge on Elisabet.  She’s not formed to have the depth that someone like Elisabet has, no matter how much she’s “learned” or the mask she has tried to maintain.  Elisabet knows her thoughts and has the mental ability to consume her and Alma knows this and it manifests in this anxious pounding on the table.   Alma somewhat regains composure in her face but her words are gibberish nonsequitars...almost poetic but too garbled.  Elisabet turns around and is in the foreground of a closeup 2-shot and mouths her words as if she is controlling what’s coming out of Alma’s mouth.  Her mouth does not sync with the words but it does convey that Elisabet is in control. Alma continues to struggle, trying with all her might to articulate what she wants to say. But the gibberish continues, as if two minds are battling one another and Elisabet is winning, silent and calm, while Alma strains to squeeze out meaning verbally with little luck. Then, something revealing occurs... Elisabet runs her nails down the inside of Alma’s forearm until drawing blood, then goes down and begins sucking the blood like a vampire.  Eventually Alma fights her off and begins slapping her repeatedly until it cuts to black.  I did accidentally stumble across an article by BFI (British Film Institute) that states Bergman intentionally took Elisabet’s surname (Vogler) from a film called “The Magician” involving a character who was an artist that sapped the energies of others for his artistic gain.  This makes sense because, as mentioned, Elisabet has used her mental energy to consume Alma by essentially playing the role as the mute patient. I don’t think this was an elaborate plan on Elisabet’s part, but kind of fell in her lap and she went with it.    Also, due to the meta-nature of the film (inside the film projector, characters looking into the lens, etc) is Bergman also implicating himself?  This film is very aware of itself and makes this clear several times.  If I had to guess, Bergman is also saying he is not innocent, that he is using these characters/actors to play out his dream in order to gain a better of understanding of his own psyche. Also, are we, the audience, implicated as well?  Elisabet looks at us, takes our picture, is aware of us...aren’t we placing ourselves inside these characters? We see their vulnerabilities, analyze their weaknesses, pass judgement...we use them in order to come to some type of new understanding within ourselves or for our own entertainment.  Is the nature of art itself vampiric?  In a sense, are Elisabet, Bergman, us and all artists vampiric in a way?  Absolutely.  

Then, right when you think you have all it figured out, there is another couple of scenes that make you think otherwise.  You have to take one scene at a time with Persona.  It is less of a narrative and more of a dreamlike poem.  Alma nows enters the hospital room and Elisabet is in bed in a sedated state.  Alma lifts her up slightly and says, “Nothing,  That’s how it should be”, in a comforting manner and then lays Elisabet’s head back down.  It then fades into a repeat of the Alma/Elisabet dream shot of them looking into the camera from earlier in the film, perhaps comforting us the audience, slowly waking us up after this traumatic, confusing ride we’ve been on as the film winds down... telling us it’s nothing, it’s okay, it’s how it should be.   In turn, Alma wakes up in her bedroom in the Summer house. We are not in the hospital anymore.  She peaks out and sees Elisabet packing her suitcase. Alma then begins putting all the summer outdoor chairs inside the house to pack up before she leaves.  We do not see Elisabet again.  What happened to her?  Did she just leave without saying goodbye? Alma looks into the mirror and brushes her hair back as was done in the scene with Elisabet from earlier. A translucent image of Elisabet then appears behind her as seen below.  She then smiles to herself and puts on her hat.

As she exits outside with her suitcase, there is a large concrete sculpture of a face that the camera moves to. It then flashes to a shot of Elisabet on stage as Electra. Alma walks to the bus.  It then cuts to a camera sweeping down from above on a film set to capture Elisabet in frame.  It cuts back to Alma getting on the bus to leave and the camera pans to dark rocks on the side of the road, then fades into the boy in front of the screen from the beginning of the film, reaching out to touch the screen.  The screen includes a blurry image of what looks to be Alma that soon fades completely to white...a screen within a screen.  As we, the viewers, reach out with our minds to comprehend exactly what the ending means, the shirtless boy with the glasses also reaches out to feel an image that disappears.  The film roll runs out (literally on screen), falling off the spool and the projector burns out. The End.

To conclude, I just realized that attempting to analyze this film is almost like chasing a conspiracy theory, looking for connections that may or may not exist.  I know that I missed some things.  I know that I got some things wrong, but the joy of thinking about these films is that's okay. :)

Also, in closing, I wanted to add an image that I had an immediate reaction to while looking for behind-the-scenes photos.  As you can see, it is of Bergman, Liv Ullman and Bibbi Andersson.  And as you know by now, this a very heavy, dark film on identity and internal chaos. But there is such love and sensitivity and thoughtfulness in this photo of three artists in the middle of making something extraordinary and revolutionary in cinema. It brings up some deep emotions in me because this is something I yearn for, almost like the boy touching the screen.  I do truly feel I've had small glimpses of this type of satisfaction while working on my own projects, sparking a recognition, knowing it is rare and beautiful and transcendent, providing more to aspire to.  

Autumn Sonata, 1978