Short Ends and Leader

Andersson commented that her work on Through a Glass Darkly (which brought Bergman a second consecutive Academy Award in 1961) almost did not happen. She said it was the only time she considered not going to work. She was newly married with a baby when Bergman sent her the script, which asked her to play a schizophrenic. The actress turned him down flat. Bergman convinced her to visit a sanitarium and talk to doctors, figuring she might find a way into this character. She considered the notion of people who are very disturbed and sick - yet not having visible signs of same - to be a very challenging, intriguing acting prospect and quickly changed her mind, maintaining that “it’s very difficult to say ‘No’ to Ingmar Bergman”.

Cries and Whispers, the director’s 1972 masterwork, a visceral and intriguing mediation on death and afterlife, family, loyalty and feminine mystery, is widely considered by many film enthusiasts to be among the best films ever made. From the stark red, white and black art direction to cameraman Sven Nykvist’s other-worldly photographic style, all of the technical aspects of the movie blend beautifully with the intense, uncanny performances.  Playing Maria and Karin, sisters halfheartedly keeping watch over another dying sibling, Bergman greats Liv Ullmann and Ingrid Thulin generate heated emotion and subtlety in their characters, adding to the film’s ethereal and haunting qualities. As the pained, desperate and ghostly Agnes, Andersson gives arguably the most triumphant, nuanced and fully realized performance of her distinguished career.

Clearly, Andersson’s insights into the physical and emotional preparation for playing Agnes were most incisive and detailed. She recalled, with clear fondness and sadness, that she borrowed heavily for the role of the dying woman by dredging up memories of her father, who himself suffered a slow, horrible death from cancer. She explained that watching someone she knew and loved experience such personal hardship was the basis for her entire performance. She did not diet to achieve her corpse-like look. It was actually realized more through make up than an actual physical transformation - though Andersson said that Bergman did tell her to stay up late and not get any sleep, the very opposite of his usual instructions. She said that she almost lost her lips because of the make up used to create her mouth sores. The corrosive mixture that was to go on her face even ate through the cup it was mixed in!

She went on to say that as an actor, you must have discipline in your work and remember that it is a job. It was advice that helped her get through the wrenching performance. She also said there was under pressure because funding for motion pictures was almost impossible to secure (as she put it, “who wants to see a film about three sisters, one dying, one promiscuous and one who puts glass up her ‘va-guy-na’"). She said she knew what the stakes were, and that results in a performance of easy potency.

Andersson said there was never any need to adlib with Bergman because his scripts were literally so perfect that there literally was no need for embellishment. She also said that Bergman was open to the possibility of adding things, yet usually used just the first or second takes. Andersson noted she was never surprised or shocked at the director’s sometimes incendiary narrative. During her career she had been sent a variety of scripts: one, in particular, was a Greek tragedy where, at one point in the script, the director wanted her to play a table, down on all fours, completely in the nude. She also said it was impossible for her to accept work from other countries because it’s too hard to act in another language.

She mentioned her appearance in the experimental Lars Von Trier film Dogville, where she played Gloria, cousin of Lauren Bacall’s shopkeeper Ma Ginger. Andersson said that while it was a small part, she was delighted to take it. She commented that it was very fun to work with the cast, particularly Bacall, who she said she would engage her in little fights every day on the set. Bacall would yell at her not to touch her things in the “store” and she would say “Please, can I wash the windows or sweep or something?” She praised the director’s unconventional story, and when asked if it was the most unusual film she had been a part of, she looked justifiably shocked. Anderrson did, after all, contribute notable acting to some of the most iconic and remarkable European films of all time.

Film lovers of the world rarely get to bask in the glow of first-hand recollections from a long time principal performer of one of world cinema’s treasured directors. Arriving at the 56th annual Berlinale International Film Festival, it was immensely pleasing to see that master Swedish director Ingmar Bergman’s legendary performer Harriet Andersson appearing. She was there to introduce a restored print of Bergman’s 1952 classic Sommaren mit Monika (The Summer with Monika), as well as taking part in a panel discussion on women in film.

On the first night of the festival, Andersson introduced a print of Bergman’s 1952 work, an adaptation that launched her acting career and made her an international sex symbol. Andersson would later become the object of carnal inspiration for filmmakers such as Jean Luc Godard and Woody Allen, both of whom cite Andersson’s sly, raw performance as a seminal growing up experience. This qualified Andersson to be part of the “Traumfrauen” (dream girls) series of the festival, to which she jokingly claimed was quite impossible as she simply didn’t enjoy getting up at 4 or 5 AM to sit in the make up and hairdresser’s chairs like the other women included (among them Ingrid Bergman, Ava Gardener and Audrey Hepburn). “Too much work to look like that”, she said modestly, making it quite clear that she started her career without the intention of being a style icon.

Monika is a very basic story about a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who takes up with a nice guy. Of course he doesn’t see how immature and manipulative she really is. Though obviously still a fledgling auteur at the time, Bergman, brings many small flourishes to the film that would become a staple of his later works. Starting with his stark, almost brutal photography of the natural elements (such as the sea) and continuing onto his quite renowned confrontational “close-up” technique, Monika showed a stylistic flair that Bergman would improve and perfect in his subsequent years. Andersson discussed the importance of this film, how it redefining Sweden in the world’s eyes from a medieval place filled with Vikings and ice to a sexy, lush paradise where beautiful landscapes were as abundant as the beautiful Swedes.

The director and actress embarked on a short-lived sexual affair following the filming, but Andersson claimed the infamous director “terrified” her, despite also teaching her more than anyone in her entire career. Andersson also noted that he was “evil” and liked to “beat” performances out of actors, which brought the house down with laughter. She also spoke about her infamous nude scenes, which were initially cut from the original American release (they were later restored). She dismissed the idea that nudity should be sensational, calling the scenes natural, not in any way obscene, jokingly telling the capacity crowd to “enjoy my boobs”.

Unfortunately, “the boobs” were about the only things that were enjoyable about this dry, dated examination of Swedish youth culture. Without having Andersson’s essential commentary prior to the screening, it is likely the audience would have either fallen asleep or perhaps left the theater. The spark of a fruitful artistic collaboration was apparent, though excruciating to sit through in this fledgling stage.

The following night, on the eve of her 75th birthday, Andersson, looking sprightly in flashy gold sneakers and fur, sat down with a devoted crowd at the Berlin Film Museum to talk about her career, her affiliation with Bergman and what she has learned as an actress.

End of Part 1

Jay Leno may be a lot of things—a middling talk show host, a rabid car collector—but the one thing he is most definitely not is a film critic. The same goes for writer/director Kevin Smith. Certainly, his View Askew universe is comprised of a fanboy fascination with the ins and outs of everything movies, but the creator of Clerks and Chasing Amy is not, by trade, a critic. So it comes as something of a surprise that both men will substitute for Roger Ebert on his long running movie review series while the famed journalist continues to recover from complications centering around his recent cancer surgery. Ever since his relapse a few weeks ago, speculation has been rampant about what Touchstone will do with that aging ‘At the Movies’ artifact. With Richard Roeper safely stuck in the second seat, a decision was recently reached—a revolving set of guest hosts will sit in for Ebert on the weekly TV show. Leno will appear 4, August, while Smith fills in on the 11th.

Now, the notion of non-professionals taking up the challenge of cinematic deconstruction may raise a few eyebrows, but it’s really not all that unusual—especially with our current perception of post-modern journalism. Big name papers like the LA and New York Times have been lamenting the “blogging” of cinema scholarship as of late, arguing that it downgrades the ‘legitimate’ (read: print) media. Besides, non-insiders like Henry Rollins have used this tactic to deliver outsider takes on the artform. As part of his original IFC talk show, he brought on individuals like Rob Zombie, or a guy who occasionally works on his plumbing, and after some minor chitchat, the duo would get down to discussing the flaws in the latest Hollywood or Indie release. Always passionate, Rollins’ insights were passable at best. With an Internet overflowing with such similarly fervent recreational academics, an implied level of acceptable amateurism has been reached.

But there’s a flaw in this ‘anyone can do it’ concept, something that, not surprisingly few outside the field feel the need to address. Film fandom does not necessarily translate into film knowledge. Just because you enjoy movies doesn’t mean you have the contextual wherewithal to comment upon them. Sure, ever since Gene Siskel left for the big box office in the sky, the duo’s original concept has been reduced to a trademarked stamp of pure consumer advocacy. But when did a lowest common denominator approach (which Leno surely represents) become the appropriate substitute for a Pulitzer Prize winning columnist who’s poured his life into his craft? Seems rather disingenuous to both the writer and his readership. 

Even worse, a clear commercial conflict on interest should surely be avoided at all costs. Nothing destroys the sense of fairness quicker than the appearance of an agenda-based impropriety. Inviting Smith on to discuss the Superman debacle would be wise. He’s an insider (he worked on one of the many Man of Steel projects along the way) and he’s great at turning anecdotes and observations into big picture pronouncements. But is it fair to allow him to rag on, or recommend, a competitor’s product? Wouldn’t it be like asking an ABC spokesman to review NBC’s fall lineup? More importantly, do filmmakers that Smith stomped on get an on-air chance to retaliate? If, hypothetically, he dismisses World Trade Center, does Oliver Stone get the opportunity for rebuttal, and is Smith’s entire oeuvre up for grabs at that point?

Perhaps for the outsider, the audience member looking in, all of this seems like smoke from a foundationless fire. After all, a public pissing match between so-called professionals is usually a scandalous slice of schadenfreude fun. But with the legitimate media downplaying the importance of online journalism at every turn, do we really need famous faces fighting among themselves to further denigrate the importance of real film criticism?

Sure, some critics—even famous, respected ones—can be self-important snobs who tend to treat each movie like an opportunity to show how well they studied their thesaurus, and many are so disconnected from the concept of actual entertainment that they miss the populace appeal of standard popcorn fare. But buffering a bad situation (here’s hoping Ebert a speedy and full recovery) with what amounts to stunt casting seems antithetical to the needs of the medium, the message and most importantly, the messenger. Certainly it will spike ratings (who isn’t interested in seeing Smith put the smackdown on the regularly rote Roeper) and act as a stopgap until a long-term solution is found—if and when one is deemed necessary. In our ‘hurry up and gimme’ culture of instant gratification and access to information, there may technically no longer be a need for such in-depth analysis of motion pictures. But something about this decision feels like the final nail in criticism’s coffin.