To whet your appetite, and for those of you who can't make it, here's something Assayas has said before about Monika:
'The film radiates with the happiness and simple joy in telling this story. It's something completely exceptional, almost unique in the history of cinema.'
Word. Assayas' talk is of course on the occasion of the seven films now being distributed in France. (Otherwise, it wasn't long ago since the Lyonnais had their faire share of Bergman.)
Read more here.
In a notebook, mostly containing ideas for The Magician, Bergman, like most of us, from time to time, complains a little. The Seventh Seal has just opened, and the rehearsals for Peer Gynt are wearing him out. 'I'm fed up,' he exclaims, and continues:
'What I most feel like doing is of course that Uppsala movie. The world of childhood. I have no name but many images keep coming all by themselves and [unreadable]. I only need to try and catch them.'
The year is 1957, so it only took him some thirty years to get it done.
Austria-born Buchegger played in most of Bergman's stagings at Munich's Residenztheater, often in leading roles including the title character of Hedda Gabler, Irina in Three Sisters or Johanne in PO Enquist's From the Life of the Rain Worms.
Her most recognised achievement to an international audience is her magnificent interpretation of Katarina in From the Life of the Marionettes.
Christina Buchegger died in a Munich hospital at the age of 71.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NnNrPZ-92UI
The films, which start screening today, are Smiles of a Summer Night, The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, The Virgin Spring, Persona, Scenes From a Marriage and Autumn Sonata. Distributed by Carlotta Films.
New arrivals from Norstedts Agency!
Even non-Italian speakers can probably guess that the book to the right is an Italian publication of The Magic Lantern.
That the left is a translation of Sunday's Children might be trickier for most people, though. But then you open and read the first sentence, and go, ah, yes, of course!
"Emlékszem, hogy nagyanyámnak és Carl bácsikámnak is komoly kifogásai voltak a nyaralónkkal szemben, de más-más okból."
So what language is it? (Hungarians are out of the competition.)
[Recycling a post from last year.]
Swedes, for some reason, yearn for a Christmas celebration Fanny and Alexander-style. Oh yes, isn't it a joy when Uncle Carl takes to the bottle and abuses his wife. Or when Gustaf Adolf is cheating on his. Not to mention when daddy Oscar has a heart attack. The Ekdahl brothers sure know how to celebrate.
Happy holidays!
PS. What Alexander says above roughly translates as "No one shall remain in the dark. Merry christmas everyone." (But it rhymes in the original.)
PPS. This blog will be back once we're through celebrating Hannukkah, Christmas, New Year's, Epiphany and everything else we can think of – all in Fanny and Alexander-style.
Educated guess on Bergman's most famous images: first (and there's no contest) is Death playing chess in The Seventh Seal. Then the dance of death in the final scene of the same film. For the bronze medal, the race is tighter: the pietà scene from Cries and Whispers, perhaps? Or Isak Borg picking Wild Strawberries? Or perhaps this one (here on a Spanish poster):
Oh, well, who knows. But admit it's a little fun to see Bergman's first sketch to the famous shot. (No, drawing wasn't exactly Bergman's strong suit; he could, obviously, make amazing pictures anyway.)
Cosy up this weekend with a smattering of Bergman-related musical entertainment! Every Saturday [update: a Saturday every now and then], we offer up a new song that relates to Bergman in some interesting manner. Over time, we plan on building up a pretty-little playlist suitable for any occasion, aptly entitled The Original Ingmar Bergman Spotify Playlist. (For more on Bergman and music, click here.)
Saturday song #6 is:
None of Bergman’s films contain as much music as Fanny and Alexander. And out of all the music that does appear, there are two particular pieces which stand out from the rest: Schumann's Piano Quintet in E-flat major (the funereal march of the second movement comprises the main theme of the film), and Siciliana from Bach'ss Sonata No. 2 in E-flat major for flute and harpsichord,which Bishop Vergerus incessantly plays.
There is also something worth mentioning about the two Britten pieces which Bergman selects, as they are so blaringly anachronistic. All other music in the film either predates or is contemporary with the plot. In other words, classical.
Britten’s cello suites, however, were written in the 1960s and 70s, and despite their Bach references, they sound as contemporary as can be.
We shall never quite know precisely why Bergman included the apparently unsuitable Britten pieces in Fanny and Alexander, but one cannot ignore the fact that the third suite’s recitative is named “Fantastico” and appears in the film at literally the most fantastic moment – when Isak Jacobi arrives to free the children from the bishop’s home (however did that happen?); as well as accompanying Oscar’s ghost on his visit to his mother.
I'm sorting letters. There are some 10.000 letters to and from Bergman in the archive, only about half of which have been catalogued yet. This will keep us busy for a while. (Deciphering scrawls, or tracking down the person who signed a letter 19 September 1982 with "Lars", does take a while.)
Usually, however, we're doing just fine. The letters are neatly sorted and catalogued, before they end up in archive boxes and eventually (if at all) someone asks to read them.
Anyway. If you look carefully at the letters above, you'll notice their postmarks are from July 2007. Ingmar Bergman died 30 July that year, and so the letters were never opened. I cannot bring myself to do it either.
'Even if prayer is just a cry into an empty space, we should not desist from that cry,' Bergman writes in his notebook 24 July 1964, almost exactly fortythree years earlier.
