Customer Reviews

From the Life of the Marionettes [VHS]

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Why Watch This Film?

Most appealing in this movie, and what makes it really worth a thoughtful watch, is the honesty of the characters. This almost compulsive honesty provides deep insights into the characters. As unappealing as they might be as neighbors, the characters are interesting and compel your attention.

The Characters

The characters are not the cardboard cutouts being manipulated through a plot that frequent many scripts. The characters are multifaceted three dimensional personalities. In one instance a character answers a question during the police interview and gives numerous explanations for his actions, all of which are true. This building of depth makes sympathetic characters that other wise would be simply pathetic.

Structure

A recurring feature of the film is the use of the police interview. This is used to tie together various pieces of the story. The interviews are used as a vehicle for flashbacks that tell the story. In addition to flashbacks and interviews, Bergman makes use of dreams to add depth to his characters. The dreams are photographed beautifully. There is a surreal quality that slowly changes to stark realism as the dream reaches it climax. This is very subtle and quite effective.

The Story

The story itself is tragic. Fatal flaws abound in almost all the characters. No hero here. Dependency and habit bind a man and a woman together in a mockery of a loving marriage. The effects this has on the relationship and those surrounding it are explored.

The Setting

The contemporary urban setting is not unknown in Bergman's work but it is not the most common situation for his films. The film makes much of the noise of the city, the un-natural urban surroundings, the skewing of schedules that urban life requires. More than a mere setting, the city takes on a role. It is as if the locale is a character, one that contributes no small amount to the descent of the other characters in the film.

Bergmania

For those familiar with Bergman's work there is much that is. Among the familiar are some names that have been recycled from previous films (Eggerman for example). There is the usual use of ticking clocks, and marital infidelity. The characters are ordinary in many ways and extraordinary in their flaws. Life, death and madness are a part of most of Bergman's work. This is no exception.

With The sudden and sad departure of this emblematic filmmaker, vanishes at the same time the legitimate son of the existential anguish, Bergman may be regarded as the spiritual son of August Strindberg. As we know about, the genius is composed of so many lives, livings and influences that it results extremely difficult to label in a special category, but no other filmmaker walked over so many marshes of the human condition, where the ontological loneliness, submission, childhood traumas, and the entire exploration of so many inner demons into what we might design as collective unconscious were motive of febrile inspiration to convey us to the same entrails of desperation and agonic anxiety, nobody like him will be able to mirror with such prodigious realism the inextricable labyrinths of the human soul.

From life of the marionettes is indeed, one of his highest peaks in what concerns form and vital expression, a fascinating journey around the febrile anguish of a schizophrenic, featured with the deepest horridness. The claustrophobic environment, the handle of the camera - eye as incorporeal witness of his terrible condition makes of this film, unique in its own.

"From the life of Marionettes" is a dark tale told by its multiple and unreliable characters. The plot begins with a shocking event through which the main character is introduced, where the audience is forced to judge him by the face value. What comes after is one of the most beautiful manifestations of Bergmanian prophecies: liberal, bitter, and extremely dark. This is a psychological hallucination, a bizzare experience in human relationship. Watch and levitate.

(I should note upfront that the copy I watched was an awful dubbing, which may have coloured my opinion of the film. The dubbed version should be avoided at all costs).

I had considerable interest in this film after reading Bergman's autobiography, The Magic Lantern, where he claims that this was one of his better works. Like most of Bergman's work in the 70s, I found it brutal, depressing, and hard to stomach -- hard to watch, but maturing in memory. My overwhelming feeling, though, is that this is a piece of artistic excess, an artist tipping the scales a little too heavily in his favor.

The film begins with a young man murdering, clumsily, a prostitute in an abandoned whorehouse. From there, the film divides itself into segments, following the murderer's life just prior to the murder and the reactions after the murder of those who knew him. The theme is an examination of anxiety, ennui, respression, and, of course, that ever-pervading theme of marital relationship, and the passing of dream and reality.

This work is a little heavy, and in this case it works against itself. The plot might be considered within the arena of modern psychology, which is always dangerous ground for an artist to tread, particularly when watching the film 20 years later. There is no respite in the film from the murkiness and ugliness of the reality portrays.

I can't really define what I think of this film: its beautifully made, but with a certain unpleasing quality. I can't help but think that this is Bergman indulging himself, but that alone can't account for its apparent shortcomings. Great works, afterall, have often been made of irresponsible and forceful creativity, and certainly numerous times before in Bergman's career. In any case, the film is akin in its craft to Fanny and Alexander, though that one somehow turned out to be twenty times stronger a film.

In addition to two fine reviews, let me add that the misogynist plot (Peter hates his wife Katrina but kills a prostitute instead) and the incessant recording (done by the investigator, the psychiatrist, and the murderer himself) draw our attention to the one gay man. Tim is a person who does not want to record what he has to say and who, although nearly everyone knows the imminent danger intuitively and disregards it, chooses to look himself in the mirror and recognizes the horror of both what he has done and not done. Yet we don't care when Katrina acknowledges his shallowness despite his hand upon her cheek. Since we don't care about Tim, how are we to care whether Peter ever found him? Consequently, Peter's anguish remains vague and we're left grateful he's locked up--not typical for Bergman who more often yearns for escape.