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Autumn Sonata [VHS]

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Writer/director Ingmar Bergman examines the strained relationship between a mother and daughter in "Autumn Sonata," starring Ingrid Bergman and Liv Ullmann. Eva (Ullmann) has not seen her mother, Charlotte (Bergman) in seven years; a successful concert pianist, Charlotte has spent a good portion of her life on the road, but after losing her long-time companion, Leonardo, Eva invites her to come to the parsonage where she and her minister husband, Viktor (Halvar Bjork), live, for an extended visit. Charlotte accepts, but soon after her arrival, old wounds and feelings begin to surface, and the film becomes an intimate character study of the life-long dysfunctional relationship between Charlotte and Eva, during which director Bergman intricately examines the causes and effects of all that has passed between them during their lives. It's an in-depth look at the emotional damage human beings are capable of inflicting upon one another, and how fragile the line between love and hate becomes when subjected to incessant neglect by even one of the parties involved. As the story unfolds and the principals bare their souls-- at last revealing a lifetime's worth of repressed feelings-- it becomes an emotionally devastating experience for the audience, as well, for there is much contained within the dynamics of this situation that most viewers will be able to identify with and relate to within their own lives. Ingmar Bergman is a Master of presenting life as it truly is; reality-- and portraying it on the screen-- is his domain, and throughout his career he has veritably created almost a genre of his own in doing so. With a microscope of his own design, he scrutinizes the basic instincts of the human condition, what makes people tick and how and why they relate to one another as they do. Much of what he presents is startling, and always emotionally involving, because he penetrates so deeply and succinctly into the heart of the matter, as he demonstrates so superlatively with this film. His methods and style are unique, his talent unequivocal; many others have attempted to capture the essence of that which Bergman has perfected, but few have succeeded. Interestingly enough, Liv Ullmann is one who, as a director, has probably come the closest to achieving that classic "sense" of Bergman, with her films "Private Confessions," and "Faithless," both of which were written by Bergman. In her role as Eva, Ullmann gives one of the best performances of her career, for which she should have at least been nominated for an Oscar; that she was not is nothing less than a gross injustice. She so skillfully conveys the depth and complexities of her character, and the differing emotional levels to which Eva is subjected, that it creates a lasting impression and makes her someone with whom it is easy for the audience to sympathize. It makes you realize, upon reflection, what a truly gifted actress Ullmann is. And, as good as Ullmann's performance here is, it is equaled-- though not, I would say-- surpassed, by Ingrid Bergman's portrayal (in her final theatrical appearance) of Charlotte; and in a renewal of faith that there is some justice in the world after all, she received an Oscar nomination for Best Actress for it. In retrospect, it seems somehow inevitable that the two Bergmans came together at last, though it's somewhat lamentable that their career paths did not cross sooner. There is some consolation, however, in the fact that when they did finally join forces the result was such a powerful, memorable film. The supporting cast includes Lena Nyman (Helena), Gunnar Bjornstrand (Paul), Erland Josephson (Josef) and Linn Ullmann (Eva as a child). An intelligent, thought provoking and emotionally wrenching film, highlighted by outstanding performances and beautifully photographed by Sven Nykvist, "Autumn Sonata" is an example of filmmaking at it's best; it's a lasting tribute, not only to the immense talents of Ingmar Bergman and Liv Ullmann, but to Ingrid Bergman, one of the most beautiful and gifted actresses ever to grace the silver screen.

Beginning with The Seventh Seal, I have been enamored with the austere and intellectual world of Ingmar Bergman. His cinema is so literate and engaging, without being boring or preachy or devolving into baseless abstraction. Recently I was able to see his 1978 film, Autumn Sonata, with Liv Ullmann and Ingrid Bergman and was touched by its emotional power.

Starting with an introductory monologue by Viktor, the pastor of the area and husband of Eva, it sets the tone of the piece and explains Eva's feelings of lovelessness and distance. After hearing of the death of her mother's lover, Eva invites her mother Charlotte to visit, and after a seven-year hiatus, the old professional pianist acquiesces. Eva's feelings towards Charlotte are very complex and we seem them unfold throughout the film, the layers peeling away, eventually, on both sides.

Charlotte's arrival shows a sophisticated and worldly older woman who is demanding and easily overshadowing of her quiet daughter. Quickly upstaging the situation, Charlotte breathlessly tells Eva the tale of Leonardo's slow death and her bedside vigil, suddenly changing gears when she hears her other daughter, Helena, is staying with Eva at the parsonage, and has been for several years. Charlotte's face shows her shock clearly enough and would not have made the visit had she known. When she sees Lena's deteriorated condition, spastic and only able to be understood by Eva, she still maintains control of the situation, though we know she is internally at odds with her outward features.

It is apparent Eva still longs, like a child, for the approval of her mother. When she describes the feelings she has after the death of her son, Erik, her mother listens politely and doesn't attempt to touch on the real emotions there. She stands in the glare of her own emotional spotlight and cannot shake the egoism that always surrounds her. The death of Erik created departures of different levels for his parents - one the one side, Viktor's life "grayed again," but Eva's feelings for Erik were left uncorroded. She thinks of heaven as "a world of liberated feelings" and one night of insomnia with her mother brings about the chance to share her true feelings with her.

Eva recounts to her mother all the missed time from her adolescence; when Charlotte was abroad entertaining foreign crowds and indulging her own selfish appetites. Eva's wine bibbing loosens her tongue and it turns into a raw and emotional exchange. During this time, they depart from their mother/daughter roles and deal with the other - for the first time - as equals in adulthood. In her lengthy and beautiful soliloquy, Eva states "you had the charge of all the words in our home." A grand way to put it, and Bergman's great success in the writing of these difficult scenes is the lack of sentimentality and the balanced pathos. The scenes are emoted wonderfully by the two actors and captured beautifully by long-time Bergman cinematographer, Sven Nykvist. The film crescendos at this point and is heading for a recapitulation of all the elements, which marks a musical sonata. Autumn Sonata is a great film in the Bergman corpus and not to be missed.

I previously reviewed this film on a VHS format and now that I've seen the DVD, I have a greater appreciation for this Bergman masterpiece and the highest respect for Criterion for the finest treatment it gave this film. The colors are more enhanced and finally I got to watch it in its original Swedish language with English subtitles. There is also an audio-narrative that's very interesting. I hope Criterion will handle the releases of Bergman's other great works like "Cries and Whispers" & "A Passion of Anna". A DVD to own!

Ingmar Bergman is one of the greatest (maybe, arguably, THE greatest) directors of all time. Ingrid Bergman (no relation) is one of the greatest (possibly, arguably, THE greatest) actresses of all time. For one of them, `Hostsonaten' marks their greatest cinematic achievement. For the other, it marks a very nice contribution to a long list of cinematic achievements.

I'll give you a hint, Ingrid is H-E-A-V-E-N-S-E-N-T here.

`Hostsonaten' is a beautifully tragic tale of family and the way we can shield ourselves from responsibility so much so that we ultimately believe we have none. Charlotte is a famed concert pianist who has segregated herself from her daughters for seven years. When her eldest, Eva, invites her to come spend some time with her and her husband, Charlotte is hesitant, but she ultimately welcomes the invitation, only to be forced to face her insecurities as a mother when Eva unveils a secret. Charlotte's youngest daughter, the tragically ill Helena, is living with Eva. Taking place over the course of one night, Charlotte and Eva basically carry on one VERY IMPORTANT conversation that shapes the way they view each other and themselves.

Before I get to the acting, I want to talk a little bit about the character of Charlotte.

Charlotte Andergast is a marvel to digest, because you cannot help but sympathize with her while simultaneously getting repulsed by her. She has all but abandoned her children and (as we learn) her husband for her own selfish pursuits, but as she is brought face to face with her actions it is obvious that she never really understood what she was doing. Her final decision is further proof that she is not ready to fully comprehend her emotional state and the effect that it has on those around her. She is a conundrum, but a flawlessly natural one.

She is natural because Bergman makes her that way. Ingrid is hands-down one of the greatest actresses to ever grace the screen. This is her finest hour. With a perfect grasp of her director's vision (Ingmar has such a way with words, painting his scenes like poetry, and Ingrid beautifully speaks every line) and a stunning array of emotional daggers, Ingrid weaves her character's tale for us in a way that allows us into her mind and makes us a part of her development. There are so many `moments' here that I wish I could capture, but words cannot do them justice. The subtle yet profound way that Ingrid shakes her eyes (yes SHAKES them) while watching her daughter stumble through Chopin, the neurotic way she babbles to herself while contemplating her situation, the grand `performance' she puts on for the sickly Helena, the way she completely absorbs ever word Eva speaks and slowly crumbles; all of them are just unbelievably sincere.

I've mentioned before the power of Bergman's close-up (her face is just undeniably powerful) and Ingmar uses that face to perfection here. Her final close-up, when reading Eva's letter, reminds me much of the final moments in `Goodbye, Again', where she realizes her character's encroaching fate.

And yet, to single out Bergman almost seems unfair when she is matched every step of the way by Liv Ullmann. In fact, this is the only year where I consider a tie in any category, and that is because these two actresses are just perfect compliments to one another. Ullmann is flawless here as Eva, stripping her character's emotionally stunted layers bit by bit in order to build for us a gradual reveal. Her big explosion when confronting her mother about a particularly painful life changing decision she went through at eighteen is just jaw-dropping in texture. Despite the screams (it is a very loud and showy scene) there is a restraint that conveys a feeling of purity that transcends the baity aspect of the performance.

It doesn't feel showy, it feels natural.

With a beautifully controlled feel (the film carries a warm autumn feeling, with rich colors and textures that overlap beautifully) that embellishes upon Ingmar Bergman's directorial touch, `Hostsonaten' is not his best film, but then again, his worst would be better than most other's best. This is a theme that he has explored many times before, but with the powerhouse coupling of Bergman and Ullmann, he has elevated his themes and given them new life.

Inhale all of this.

Two of Scandinavia's top actresses light up the screen in this classic tale of a mother and daughter trying to get a grip on the past and on each other.

An aging but still magnetic Ingrid Bergman is Charlotte, a concert pianist with an international reputation. She gets a letter from her daughter Eva (an incandescent Liv Ullmann) inviting her for a visit. The two haven't seen each other for seven years. In that time, Eva has married Viktor (Halvar Bjork) a pastor in rural Norway and moved to the parsonage with him. They've had a son together, Erik, who drowned when he was four. Charlotte has another daughter, Helena, with a spastic condition that renders her nearly mute and mostly immobile. After Charlotte arrives, Eva informs her that she's moved Helena into the parsonage, which Charlotte reads as a rebuke to her own decision to place Helena in an institution.

This is one of Ingmar Bergman's chamber movies, in which he puts a small number of characters in a claustrophobic setting and steadily builds up the pressure until emotions explode. Charlotte and Eva start off cordial to one another, but Eva's anger at her mother for sins of omission and commission can't be contained. Her sense of grievance builds, reaching a crescendo in a late night scene where the wine comes out and the gloves come off.

As is often the case with Ingmar Bergman's chamber movies, a somewhat schematic script is offset by brilliant moviemaking. This begins with the actresses. Ingrid Bergman (ill with cancer during the filming) gives a superb performance. Ullmann's would be astonishing if he hadn't seen her hit these heights in Bergman's movies time and again. Cinematographer Sven Nyquist's captivating lighting shows the characters moving in and out of the shadows in the parsonage, an analogue for the moments of illumination and concealment Eva and Charlotte experience in their confrontations with one another.

The blocking and framing and editing are superb. In one particularly mesmerizing scene, Charlotte is at the piano playing a difficult concerto. All of her attention is on the instrument. Eva sits on the bench next to her, and we see Charlotte in profile to the right of the frame and Eva facing forward. As Charlotte plays, a lifetime of emotions pass across Eva's face: appreciation tinged with envy at her mother's talent; sadness at the price her mother paid to pursue that talent, and sadness at the cost to those who loved her; and, finally, anger as she realizes she's lost her mother yet again to music, the one thing that truly matters to Charlotte. It's a stunning piece of acting and filmmaking.

Charlotte leaves for her next concert. We see her on the train with her agent. Her makeup is in place, and the confusion and vulnerability she let peek out during the long night with Eva have been tucked away. Charlotte is a tough woman for whom the show must go on, no matter the price. Our last glimpse of Eva is back at the parsonage. She's written another letter to her mother; she hopes they'll continue trying to reach out to one another. Eva has had her catharsis, but she's still locked in to the little girl she was, endlessly yearning for what she'll never get. We see Charlotte reading the letter, skepticism spreading across her face: she's not going back there.

As Peter Cowie points out in his commentary, the characters' scripted emotions resonate in Bergman's personal life. As he reveals in Bergman Island, the recently released biographical film by Marie Nyrerod, Bergman felt guilty about neglecting his own children while he poured all his emotional energy in to his film and theater families. This movie is an earlier attempt to come to grips with that guilt, and makes the case for both the narcissistic artist and the victims damaged by the artist's emotional triage. The two great actresses use their magic to bring this dilemma movingly and memorably to life.

To begin with, this is another outstanding transfer by Criterion of a Bergman film. I think other reviewers have made a formidable case both for the excellence of the film and of the remastered transfer. I would like merely to highlight for prospective buyers one possibly overlooked advantage to this DVD edition, namely, the alternative English language audio track, in which the voices are dubbed by the original actors. I usually avoid films that have been dubbed into English, but there are times in which dubbing is more desirable than subtitles, and "Autumn Sonata" happens to offer one of them. I realize many people understandably are suspicious of films dubbed into English, and as a rule I too prefer substitles to dubbing. And yet, I encourage you to try watching this film both with subtitles and the dubbed voices. Since the film has been dubbed using the original voices, one need not worry that Bergman or Ulmann's lines are being interpreted for them by someone else. In fact, the English translation in the dubbed audio track is far superior to the subtitled translation (probably because subtitles are meant to be READ and not SPOKEN). One day, I decided, just as an experiment, to try out the dubbed audio track, and was surprised to find that my experience of the film was enhanced for a couple of reasons. First of all, "Autumn Sonata" has so many passages of extremely dense dialogue, that I often found myself watching the bottom 1/3 of the screen rather than Sven Nykvist's superb photography. One of the most remarkable aspects of "Autumn Sonata" is Bergman's use of the close-up. At one level, this film, which is heavily comprised of close-ups, is a study of the human face, and it is no coincidence that this is probably the only film in which Ingrid Bergman appears without make-up (from what I understand, this was a constant point of contention between Ingid and Ingmar on the set). That we now know Ingrid Bergman was struggling privately with the late stages of terminal cancer during the filming of "Autumn Sonata" helps explain why Bergman's close-ups of her are among the most harrowing in cinema (I point to the scene in which she plays Chopin on the piano as but one example). To the person who criticized Bergman's direction of Ingrid in this film, I would pose the question of how else could he have achieved such an effect without undressing her of her characteristic glamor and elegance. It is interesting that this reviewer contrasts Bergman with Hitchcock because the latter made a career of heavy-handed, deprecating direction of his leading ladies, from Madeleine Carroll in "The 39 Steps" to Ingrid Bergman in "Notorious." To anyone who has reservations about the direction of Ingrid in the role of Charlotte, I encourage you to view the film again, this time with the dubbed English audio track. I just do not see how one fully can appreciate a film heavily comprised of slow, penetrating close-ups, if one has to spend time reading subtitles. As with many of their Begman films on laserdisc, Criterion's laserdisc release of "Autumn Sonata" also featured an alternative English track. However, in the case of the laserdisc, I could never watch the film with the English audio because the audio quality was so poor. Due to the possibility for storing more information on a small DVD, Criterion has been able to improve the quality of the English language track for this DVD issue. The sound, while mono, is very full, and the synchronization is excellent (not distracting at all). I highly recommend that you give the dubbed version of this film a try.

In his memoir Images, Bergman concludes that "Autumn Sonata" isn't a successful film for two reasons. First, he says that he lacked the courage or the talent to make the film what he originally envisioned: a drama in which the long night of recrimination leads to the daughter Eva (Liv Ullmann) rebirthing the mother Charlotte (Ingrid Bergman). There's precious little rebirth in the final version of the film. Second, Bergman worries that the film was too self-consciously Bergmanian: that is, he'd fallen into the trap of making movies that he was expected to make.

I think the film is more successful than Bergman's appraisal suggests, but it's not one of his best ones. Somehow Eva's husband Viktor (Halvar Bjork) seems a fifth wheel. It's not clear what purpose his character plays. More importantly, though, Bergman couldn't quite get Ingrid Bergman to quit being the grand actress of the 1940s and enter into the ensemble acting spirit of his scripts. At times, especially in the first half hour or so of the film, to be entirely uncomfortable with her role. that she was nominated for an academy role was surely an homage to her career rather than her performance.

The film is intriguing, as all Bergman films are, because it invites us to explore the boundaries of repressed anger, parental-children relations, false memories, and the dynamics of forgiving. Eva feels stunted by her overbearing and aloof mother, and in the terrible night in which cards are laid on the table she shrieks that her entire life has been ruined by her childhood. But it's clear that Eva to a certain extent is using memories, false or otherwise, to excuse her own failings. She has been warped by her mother; there's no doubt of that, and Bergman uses the crippled sister Helena (Lena Nyman) as a very visible metaphor to convey the point. But at least some of Eva's neurosis is of her own making. So fascinating questions of the complexity of forgiving when false memories are at play get raised by the film.

Liv Ullmann is outstanding as Eva, the broken, neurotic, incredibly angry, and frozen daughter who longs for love but mistrusts any loving overture. Her performance is hands-down the best in the film. Next to her, Ingrid Bergman seems awkward.

It's worth noting that although "Autumn Sonata" is one of his chamber pieces, it's nonetheless one of the few films Bergman made which features natural landscape. There are several lovely shots shots of the Norwegian countryside and fjords where the movie was shot.

This is one the most remarkable films of the last stage of this outstanding director. Mother and daughter faced by the awful past memories. The mother, Ingrid Bergman is a classic pianist who has triumphed all around the world but the happiness, as eveybody knows, is never free. Her daughter (Liv Ullman) is almost an emotional orphan. She has been grown up so distant from her mother and the necessary support and love in special moments of the life simply existed never. The dialogues are merciless; Liv is uncapable to understand and obviously to forget or forgive; there have been so many affective wounds and her behavior's mother has always been the same: the getaway and the double moral. A letter, a postcard a call phone from time to time to check if everything is alright.

You are emotionally invalid! This shocking insult still resounds in my mind from the first time I watched this glorious and intimate portrait.

The last films of the sixties such as Persona, Hour of the wolf The shame, The passion of Anna meant a clear signal, an obvious turning point and if you want a major attention to the intimate and progressive emotive crisis that can be sustained by a long interview given for him in Cannes 1966: "Nowadays the art has lost its force and it seems actually just the first skin of a serpent, but not the serpent." So under this statement, it seems reasonable the intimate concerns and artistic efforts would walk by the harrowing and disturbing atmosphere of the absence of a real gravity emotive center in the human being. If you add God's silence, the triumph of the Death (The seventh seal) and the lost faith, Bergman was crossing a vast and complex but not least, a fascinating exploration and even a formidable journey to the roots of the human soul.

That's why Ingmar Bergman made a decisive twist of fate in the seventies, and focused his energies in the disturbing emotional human relationship; from Cries and Whispers to Scenes of a marriage Bergman faced the challenge the Strindberg environment and became himself much more intimate and more human if you want, employing all his wisdom and experience, specially toward the female universe, and this was specially a big point to his favor due the female universe is not only more complex than the male one, but besides much more intense, interesting and dramatic in all the word's extension. Go for Fassbinder's filmography and you will check out by yourself this risky comment.

Febrile and painful portrait, supported by a magnificent and splendid photography and superior script.

I had to learn the hard way, that there are less than "perfect" renditions of this DVD out there to be sold. The first I bought was one of these. I won't go on to "name call", but paying extra for the Criterion Collection is a must for any Bergman fan. The poor film quality and subtitles (to the point they are distracting from the film and at times so bad they are humerous) make paying anything at all a sheer waste of money for a Criterion Collection substitute.

I don't agree that Autumn Sonata is a mediocre film. I think Bergman did understand women well, and portrayed this mother/daughter relationship nicely. He was able to show in his dialectically opposite approach, the vulnerabilities of the narcisstic artist and the self depreciating/ martyr. They exposed themselves, faced off and retreated to their comfortable life positions by the end of the movie. The use of the unnamed ailment of the younger daughter represents the other side of mother who often cries as a baby of her back pain, but at least is left whole enough to express herself also in her music. The death of the son at age four I think represents the symbolic death of the innocence in all of the "chamber music" of characters in this film (mother, daughters and husband) which Bergman uses in many of his movies. The sparing use of scenery and number of protagonists adds to the reality of the despair here. Anyway, I could go on too long....enough said. I think this movie is worth a watch and a long ponder.

Between Charlotte, the mother played by Ingrid Bergman, and Eva, the daughter played by Liv Ullmann, I mean? And should much of what is said have been said years and years before? Of course, you shout! But I hear others murmuring that much of what is said between most of us might be better left unsaid, since it is either fully understood without saying or else uselessly hurtful to say.

And is there anything left to say about this drama made in 1977 that hasn't been said at length and repeatedly? If you can watch this film without being powerfully affected, you belong to a different species, possibly cyborg. Me, I'm of the mother's species, a concert musician and perhaps as much a self-invented public person as she; the recognition of commonality with her seized me by the throat, as I'm sure it seized the actress, the great Ingrid Bergman, who played the role. And what could this revelation of the narcissism of the Artist have meant to director Ingmar Bergmann but some measure of a confession?

One thing that needs to be said and said again is that Ingrid and Liv deliver incredibly sensitive, plausible performances. Nothing short of thespian immortality! Halvar Björk, in the role of Eva's husband Viktor, succeeds in the difficult role of helpless bystander and "Chorus" or "Prologue" to the agony of the mother/daughter confrontation. I want to use the word "agon" here in its classical Greek sense of a formal convention of the theater, of a scripted contest/conflict among the Gods. Bergmann's mother and daughter are not ordinary, mediocre women; they are both Goddesses, the two actresses of beauty and the two characters they play of personhood.

If you saw this film decades ago, as I did, you ought to consider seeing it again. Chances are you've been 'enriched' in some way, over those decades, that will make it more profound for you today. That's been my experience.