Last Saturday, Leos Carax’  Holy Motors received the best foreign-language picture award by the Los Angeles Film Critics Association. Unable to accept the award in person, Carax sent a pretty wonderful recorded speech:

"Hello, I'm Leos Carax, director of foreign-language films. I've been making foreign-language films my whole life. Foreign-language films are made all over the world, of course, except in America. In America, they only make non-foreign-language films. Foreign-language films are very hard to make, obviously, because you have to invent a foreign language instead of using the usual language. But the truth is, cinema is a foreign language, a language created for those who need to travel to the other side of life. Good night."

I don’t know about you, but personally I have a sweet spot for all this business of receiving with one hand and slapping with the other. As like Jean-Paul Sartre flat out refusing the Nobel price may seem more honourable, but this sort of compromise gesture at least has the merit of subtlety. In 2010, Carax’ compatriot Jean-Luc Godard did something similar when he, to the question on what the honorary Academy Award he was about to recieve meant to him, replied:

“Nothing. If the Academy likes to do it, let them do it. But I think it’s strange. I asked myself: Which of my films have they seen? Do they actually know my films? The award is called The Governor’s Award. Does this mean that Schwarzenegger gives me the award?”

As Carax, Godard didn’t show up for the ceremony, claiming he neither had the energy to apply for a visa nor to take a trans-Atlantic flight.

However, the master of the genre of receiving but not quite has to be Ingmar Bergman. A letter from him to the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences in our collection was shown at a large Bergman exhibition in Los Angeles (at AMPAS, fittingly enough), Berlin and Ghent 2010–11, and gained some attention.

As an homage to Carax, now is the time to tell the full story. It all began with Wild Strawberries being Oscar-nominated for best writing in 1959. Bergman politely replied to the Academy’s invitation that he unfortunately was unable to come, but showed no other signs of discomfort:

Wild Strawberries lost, however, to Pillow Talk. Which demonstrates at least two things: 1) Rock Hudson and Doris Day are funnier than Victor Sjöström and Ingrid Thulin; 2) the winner is not necessarily that film considered by the cruel History to be best – among other nominees that year we find for example The 400 Blows and North by Northwest (which, along with Wild Strawberries, use to fare better than Pillow Talk in top 50 lists of best films ever).

When then Virgin Spring was nominated to best foreign-language picture the following year, Bergman seemed to have lost his temper and wrote the letter which, as I said, already has reached the Internet:

But – and here is the moral of this story – what do you think happened? Well, of course and in spite of Bergman’s letter, Virgin Spring did win, marking the first Academy Award to a Bergman movie, and adding fuel to his international career.

It is easily suspected that Bergman used some reverse psychology there; a strategy so successful that he won the same award next year again, with Through a Glass Darkly.

P.S.

In total, Bergman films were to win three awards for best foreign-language picture (besides the already mentioned, Fanny and Alexander); one best picture award (also Fanny and Alexander); two cinematography awards (Cries and Whispers, and, er, Fanny and Alexander); one costume design award and one art direction award (both Fanny and Alexander – the picture won four of the six categories it was nominated in.

In 1971, Bergman accepted the Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award (the same honorary Oscar Godard was to be awarded in 2010), and furthermore, Bergman films received fourteen nominations without winning in the categories of costume, original screenplay, direction, best picture and leading actress. (Yes, the Academy Awards Database really is addictive.)

Fanny and Alexander? No, this is how a real Bergman christmas is to be celebrated.

Apropos of his latest movie, the director to The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up and other comedies of the more physical variety, speaks about a certain TV series:

"I love the spirit of Scenes From a Marriage – so much of it is deadpan, and the scenes go on for a REALLY LONG TIME and force you to feel every aspect of these awkward moments."

In an interview with French daily Nice Matin Dario Argento calls the risk of having Silvio Berlusconi back in Italian politics it would be a 'nightmare' for the Italian people 'to have the monster back'.

Questioned about his masters, he replies:

'I have many! From my past as a critic I've seen a lot of films. Obviously I love Alfred Hitchcock, and American movies from the 40s and 50s in particular. And Ingmar Bergman.'

In the interview, headlined 'Hollywood taking over? Total nightmare!', Francis Ford Coppola talks about his new film and his rather rollercoaster-like career.

Compares himself and his family with a circus company, Bergman's name comes up. Many artists, Coppola claims, have constantly been on the move, 'just think about Goethe'. And he goes on:

'Even the greatest filmmakers saw themselves as entertainers, like Bergman or Fellini. In the Coppola circus I was once the director, sometimes I went up on the trapeze, sometimes I walked in the ring securing the rope for the tightrope artists. dancer. Often, however, I was all alone up there under the roof of the tent. The risks, in particular financial ones, I had to take alone.'

Later in the interview, when asked whether his daughter Sofia is continuing a family tradition, he points out that he's been married to the same woman for forty years, as opposed to Ingmar Bergman, who 'changed wife every year or so' (which is not entirely true, but, well). Traditionally artists have not been the most examplary family men, he notes, and also mentions Picasso and Fellini. "No wonder these great artists haven't found any worthy successors.'

The interviewer Lars-Olav Beier asks whether artistry is a question of genetics, upon which Coppola replies:

'Power is a question of genetics. Look around: of the people you see here in the street, many are related to Genghis Kahn. His DNA is in us. He's spread his genes as much as he could. A great man, that Genghis Kahn.'

Photo: Reuters.

I've learned a lot recently about the concept of viral. And something about the fascination with movie stars, and how this phenomenon might be worth studying. Here's what happened.

Tom Cruise came to watch my two children’s taekwondo lesson the other day. So yes, that's me with him in the picture above (Tom to the left, in case you wondered).

The background is this: Tom was in town to promote his latest movie, and as the gym owner is a very talented actor, whose career has recently taken him to Hollywood to work with Cruise, the star came to visit his friend and colleague. That he would stay for the entire lesson and enthusiastically cheer the nine-year-olds' round kick attempts, was probably not anticipated.

Anyway, when I finally approached Tom to tell him how great a fan I am (he's one of the greatest American actors of our time, if you ask me), I thought I needed to qualify this by telling him what I do. He asked me politely what the Foundation did, and when I told him, he was genuinely interested in how we're working on securing Bergman's heritage.

As he then voiced his concern about how the rapid digitisation of the film medium is a major threat to film history, and how he used to discuss this with Scorsese and Spielberg, my admiration grew to worshipping. (It's a topic dear to me, to say the least – I wrote a freaking book on the subject.) As a word of farewell, he told me to 'keep that flame burning.'

Well, if all this wasn't enough, what happened afterwards was a rather interesting experience as well. Obviously I posted the picture above on Facebook, and obviously it received about fifty times more likes than my updates usually do. What I had not expected was for people to share this, and that these shares would snowball into more shares at Ebola speed, and that people I don't even know would find the energy to hit the like button to this photo of a stranger meeting a star.

I was even more surprised when the good people of the Swedish film journal FLM wanted to interview me about my great achievement of having met Tom Cruise. But it was certainly fun, and why not take the opportunity to spread our important message? Besides, an unexpected bonus was that I received the epithet of "Taekwondo dad", which will do wonders for my street cred. Take that, hockey moms!

When then the Swedish daily Dagens Nyheter called about a notice in today's movie section, I realised that in spite of all my ground-breaking books and articles, my revolutionary blog updates and remarkable efforts in securing the heritage of Ingmar Bergman, nothing of what I've done has been even remotely as important as when I met and talked with Tom Cruise for fifteen minutes.

Following these insights, we have now taken action. As from now, we stop all cataloguing and registration efforts. The archive won't admit any more researchers. We will immediately cease all licensing of Bergman scripts to theatres around the globe. Instead, we're allocating all our resources to a new photo blog. It will be called starstruck.wordpress.com or possibly horse_smile.tumblr.com. From the proceeds, we'll start a new foundation with the sole purpose of scientifically scrutinising everything concerning celebrity culture, provenance and such metaphysical baloney. We already have two pictures.

'Bibi's right,' Bergman noted in his journal in 1956, 'I've done enough comedies. It's time for something else. I mustn't let myself get scared off any more. It's better to do this than a bad comedy. I don't give a damn about the money.'

The result was The Seventh Seal, and the manuscript was dedicated to the person who talked him out of his apparent slaphappiness and into the gloom that would bring him world-fame: Bibi Andersson.

Mad Men (2007).

Winter Light (1962).

Speaking of which: "In extremis, Don often speaks exactly like one of Bergman's alienation-maddened characters: 'I have been watching my life. I keep scratching at it, trying to get into it. I can't.'" (Read Laura Miller's full article here.)

Update: Apparently at least some people considered old pieces of paper worth coughing up for: the Tarkovsky archive was sold at fifteen times the estimated price. Whether this is in turn is a good or bad things remains to be seen. (As for my self, though, I'm relieved.)

Today, Tarkovsky's archive is auctioned out. Manuscripts, letters, unrealised projects. Estimated value: €100, 000. Soon the piano Dooley Wilson used to play in Casablanca is being sold at the same auction house. Estimated value: Almost €100,000,000.

Go figure. As time goes by? Try time is out of joint.