Viskningar och rop (1972) Reviews

• The Anatomy of Dysfunction

  nycritic2005-02-17

  Cries and Whispers is a powerful study of three sisters and a faithful maid who share a manse in a remote location. One of the sisters, the sympathetic and essentially good-hearted Agnes (Harriet Andersson in a gut-wrenching performance), is dying from an indeterminate cancer, and it is her slow journey towards death, its effect on her sisters and Anna the maid, and its aftermath that is the center of this story. Though why she, and not her sisters, should be afflicted, neither the movie nor Bergman can explain, and rings out as an injustice. The reason if, the other two sisters are variations of monstrous people who are successful: Karin (Ingrid Thulin) is what seems to be an icy control freak, not a horrible woman, but close, who cannot stand human touch of any kind, and we're privy to her torment in a flashback where she uses a piece of a broken wine glass to literally mutilate her vagina, seemingly enjoying it (as she shocks her husband), while writhing in unspeakable pain. Maria (Liv Ullmann) shows less, is more of an enigma and a hard character to pinpoint, but she's equally manipulative if not flatly repulsive: she not only tries to resume an affair with Agnes' doctor (who points out she her internal ugliness is starting to show through her facial expressions as she apparently enjoys this criticism) but she also fails to help her husband at a critical moment when he stabs himself in the stomach. Later on, both sisters (particularly Karin) verbally express their hatred for each other in a powerful montage that leads to a moment of equally intense reconciliation that comes without the use of dialogue and is emphasized by the swell of music (Chopin). Ingrid Thulin stands out, letting the gamut of Karin's sheer rage our out of her visage while suddenly changing back to a softer self, then to her steely image of self-control and back to fury in a snap of fingers. There's a lingering question throughout the movie: there must have been some extreme trauma, some truly horrific event (or events), that must have set forth the deluge of pain that rips throughout the entire story right up until the end. Karin herself alludes to the "tissue of lies" that could mean anything: possible sexual abuse by the unseen father, a complicity between Maria and her mother, and Agnes in the center, rejected. Although Karin does mention the revulsion she felt towards Maria, one can only wonder what it was that transpired which seems to have driven her into momentary lapses of insanity. In fact, her self-hatred mirrors Agnes' intense suffering rather closely, although both characters rarely interact and are on entirely different planes. In some ways, it wouldn't be out of place to say that Agnes, despite the unimaginable suffering she endures, serves as merely a catalyst, a materialization of the horror Karin herself has had to face. At least Agnes has experienced a form of love, if selfless, under the guise of Anna who comes to her aid, gives of her breast in an almost saint-like passion. Karin only has the cold future of her own dismal life to face. And Maria isn't even alive, but sadistically observing. Aside from PERSONA this has to be one of Ingmar Bergman's most powerful works, one that hits an audience at a gut level (cliched as though it may sound). The dominant color red only adds tension to the already tense scenes between the quartet of women (and the men, who only make pat but indelible appearances). Woody Allen would use these stylizations of the face looking dead at the camera, telling a story of its own in INTERIORS, another looks at three sisters, neither of them sympathetic. Grueling, sometimes unwatchable, this is movie watching at its best.

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• The Sounds Of Cries And Whispers Or A Study In Red

  G_a_l_i_n_a2006-03-18

  The idea of this film that is considered by many as Bergman's crown achievement came to him in his house at Faro where he lived by himself for sometime in a melancholy state of mind after a rather painful breakup. One image kept coming to him and it was a very vivid and persistent image of a red room (red walls, red furniture) and four women sitting at the window in the room and dressed by the fashion of the beginning of the 20th century. He could not shake the image out of his mind and he knew that the only way to deal with it would be to start writing about the women – who were they, what was their relationship, their lives, their fates?.. He also knew that should the movie be made of his writing, the dominating color of it would be red. Bergman talked with affection and gratitude about his friend and long time collaborator Swen Nykwist who spent many days creating the passionate haunting red world of "Cries and Whispers. The title came to Bergman from one of the reviews on a Mozart's sonata (he does not remember which one). The sonata was described as sounds of cries and whispers… "Cries and Whispers" is about pain, death, love, lust, hate, and self-loathing. There are more than one scene in the film that I found unbearable, horrifying and depressing. In the same time, it is about beauty and power of life, every minute of it - how little we appreciated it until it is too late. Typical Bergman's subjects, Bergman's actresses giving amazing performances, strikingly beautiful – it even hurts your eyes cinematography by Sven Nykvist - typical Bergman's masterpiece - what less do we expect from him? I admire the brilliance of it: acting, cinematography, Bergman's simple but devastating approach to Death as an inevitable part of life. The ending is heartbreaking - with Harriet's face and her words from beyond the grave about appreciating every minute of life... Powerful and devastating film.

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• A quietly disturbing work of genius

  j30bell2004-12-20

  In a perfect demonstration that horror and trauma are the stuff of real, everyday life and not the macabre vision of fantasists, Cries and Whispers marked Bergman's recovery as one of Europe's greatest film directors. Like most Bergman films, Cries and Whispers is concerned with death, the suffering before death and the re-evaluation of life that death brings. It centres on three sisters: one dying of cancer, another trapped in a repellent marriage, and the last engaged in an uncomfortable affair. Moving between these three women is the maid, who tends the dying woman in her agony and, in one stunning scene, holding her to her naked bosom like a mother holding a child. It is not, then, a barrel of laughs. Bergman films are not often for casual viewing, and I certainly won't be taking this one home to watch with my mother. Like a great classical composer, Bergman uses contrast to enormous effect. Muted sounds which force you to strain to listen are punctuated with heart-rending screams from the dying Agnes. The colour scheme is a disquieting red, fading into pastoral greens and blues as the women reminisce about their younger life. The characters also contrast uncomfortably. The two younger sisters, Karin and Maria, are sitting the deathwatch for their sister, but their task arouses no compassion in them. They are appalled and repelled by their sister's suffering, but they will not hold her hand or comfort her. The mutual dislike for each other is palpable. This contrasts with the simple humanism of their maid Anna – whom they callously talk about firing, once their sister is dead. Set in the late 19th Century, the story flits intermittently between present and past, fleshing out the motivations and the stories of the sisters. One of these flashbacks confronts the audience with one of the most disturbing image in cinema, a repressed Karin cutting her vagina with glass to avoid sex with her husband. Only a director of Bergman's calibre could make such a film riveting. Yet riveting it is. Bergman gets sensational performances from his four main leads; regulars Liv Ullmann, Ingrid Thurin and Harriet Andersson and a majestic, understated Kari Sylwan. To call this film Ibsenesque would be a slur on the originality of Bergman's vision. It is a testimony to his genius that this may not be his best film, yet it is one of the most striking films in modern cinema. I cannot recommend it highly enough. 9/10.

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• Pain, Hate, Love, God, Death...Yet Another Bergman Masterpiece.

  tony mcarea2006-10-26

  How many masterpieces can one director make? In the case of Ingmar Bergman, the answer would be plenty. This is one beautiful, but very painful and at times horrifying film. I think I've yet to see another film that depicts the pain, suffering and despair of dying to such vividness that like the characters, one almost feels the need to look away. The story itself is fairly simple - a woman is in the final stages of cancer/tuberculosis and her two sisters and maid take care of her in her final days - but Bergman's unique narrative style and the complexity and depth of his script turn what at first seems a horror show into a profound meditation on faith, love and mortality. Bergman's direction is simply too perfect. The way the film is conceived visually couldn't be more evocative of its themes. The intensity of the color red to convey the hell these characters are living, and the chamber-like, claustrophobic atmosphere it creates is suffocating and exhausting. Sven Nykvist's Oscar-winning cinematography is simply one of the most inventive and unique I've ever seen in a movie. Bergman's narrative strategy is incredibly thoughtful and effective; it's like the scenes flowed into each other, and despite the horror we are to endure, there is such tact, sensitivity, attention to detail and a feeling of intimacy to every scene. It's simply glorious to behold, appreciate and let yourself be taken by the emotions and insights this film has to offer. All four actresses give spectacular performances: Harriet Andersson (Agnes) is searing physical pain personified, Liv Ullmann (Maria) is so nuanced and real in her flight sensuality (one extended scene that is a close-up to her face is astonishing in the incredible nuances of expressiveness and what the character is trying to conceal but can't), Ingrid Thulin (Karin) is chilling to the bone (and that one scene that is about mutilation in a very sensitive place is for sure one I'll never forget) and Kari Sylwan (Anna) is pure warmth, dedication and love. Bergman has a fame for depicting a bleak and pessimistic view of the world, and I won't argue with that, but I don't think his humanism is addressed very often. I had heard so many things about how depressing and horrifying this film is, and it is indeed, but it is not hopeless. Yes, Bergman suggests that the world can a horrible place and the human experience is full of pain, loneliness and cruelty, but he also suggests that if we extend our love to one another and let ourselves be loved, the burden won't be as hard to bare, and that there will be moments that will bring us love, happiness and grace, as Agnes says in her beautiful and haunting soliloquy. Agnes manages to find solace and consolation even though she's living the most excruciating hell because she allows herself to love and be loved, and her confrontation with death won't be as terrifying. Maria and Karin on the other hand, as the film suggests, will have to endure the pain and fear of dying in utter loneliness because they don't allow themselves to be loved and have lost the ability to love as well. The film is also bold and insightful enough to suggest that the most awful of circumstances in which a human being can be is paradoxically what strengthens one's faith and love, therefore sustaining one's existence. A Masterpiece.

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• One of Bergman's Most Powerful Works

  gftbiloxi2005-04-21

  Upon its release CRIES AND WHISPERS was hailed as one of Bergman's finest films. Although it has not quite held onto that original evaluation, it remains a very fine film--a subtle and delicately performed drama as remarkable for its silence as for its occasional moments of dialogue. And in many respects it offers an extremely good introduction to Bergman's work. Like many of Bergman's films, CRIES AND WHISPERS shows the director's preoccupations with memory, communication, time, community, and death. The story is bleak: Agnes is dying and her sisters Karin and Maria have come to attend her during this final illness--but they prove unable to communicate in a meaningful way with either Agnes or each other, and Agnes' emotional care is left largely to her long-time maid, the devoted Anna. As the film unwinds, we are bought into the memories of each woman in turn. The dying Agnes (played with powerful realism by Harriet Andersson) not only grapples with increasing pain, she recalls with regret the emotional separation that existed between her long-dead mother and herself. Sister Maria (Liv Ullman), a mindless sensualist, recalls an act of adultery that has poisoned her marriage; Sister Karin (Ingrid Thulin), who is emotionally cold, recalls an act of self-mutilation designed to thwart her husband's desires. Only the maid Anna (Kari Sylwan), with a peasant's directness, actually works to be of comfort, even going so far as to cradle Agnes' head on her naked breast and dreaming of comforting Agnes while her sisters fail. The film is ever so delicately tinged with subtle elements of lesbianism, sadomasochism, and incest, and the emotional problems experienced by Maria and Karin are at least partly sexual in nature--but these are not the focus of the film so much as they are surface indications of a deeper internal turmoil. As to what that deeper turmoil is... Bergman might say it is the nature of life itself. We each stand alone, usually in denial of our own mortality, usually unable to reach each other in any meaningful way. A deep film, and in spite of its occasional awkwardness a memorable and touching film. Recommended. Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer

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