Update Megaweek, Day 8: Bergman Vs. Fellini, 8 1/2 Meets All These Women

Let's shake things up for the conclusion of Fellini Week, shall we?  Besides covering one of Fellini's best known and well regarded films, 1963's 8 1/2, which I think would be a worthy conclusion on its own, I thought I'd pair it up with Ingmar Bergman's barbed 1964 response, All These Women.  Wikipedia calls it a "parody" of 8 1/2, which I wouldn't say is quite accurate, and theretroset.com describes it as "a plot largely inspired by Federico Fellini's 8 1/2," which is getting warmer.  The relationship between the two films is both more distant and indirect, yet more critically pointed than that.  On the surface, they're entirely different and essentially unrelated, but the film seems to exist as a criticism of the attitude Fellini displays towards women in his picture.

Update 12/24/19 - 6/4/21: Adding the Essential Fellini boxed set edition.

Update 4/29/26: What's up, film nerds?  Not satisfied until your Fellini is in 4k?  Me neither!  I got your back with Criterion's 2024 UHD release of 8 1/2.  What's that?  Not nerdy enough?  Well, guess what?  Since it's Update Megaweek, I went back and wrote a whole, long thing on the 1986 version of Northanger Abbey.  How ya like me now?

There have been other filmmakers to wrestle with 8 1/2 as well.  Peter Greenaway's 8 1/2 Women is an obvious one, and Woody Allen practically remade the film with Stardust Memories.  And it's been argued that nearly any self-reflexive film about filmmaking is inherently some sort of nod to 8 1/2, from The Pickle to Lucio Fulci's Cat In the Brain.  Now, it has to be said that Fellini didn't exactly invent narrative movies about movie making... a couple of the more obvious examples include Singin' In the Rain, Sullivan's Travels and heck, even King Kong.  But he definitely blurred the meta lines even further between the picture and the frame by making his movie about his own (albeit somewhat fictionalized) specific struggles to create the particular film we're watching, and we meet multiple versions of the same characters and events: as they're depicted in the film, and how they're depicted in the film they're creating within the film.

But what makes 8 1/2 so compelling is that, even if you took all of that invention and novelty which causes 8 1/2 to be so recognized and put it aside, the film still works as a dramatically potent character study.  It's ability to capture humanity is up there with the greats, Nino Rota delivers one of his most iconic scores, and Marcello Mastrionni is a master at multi-dimensionalizing the role of the director, while still projecting a kind of unreal, hyper-cool Hollywood mask of a man as the same character - the perfect performance for the sort of conflicted, multi-tiered storytelling Fellini is experimenting with.  And sure, Fellini's portrayal of women here is... not great.  I mean, to some degree I'd argue that the most infamous scene, where Mastrionni whips at the women in his life who are all living in a personal harem isn't a depiction of a literal man and whipping actual women but someone fighting with the images he has of them in his own mind.  It's clear in the film this isn't meant to happen outside of his own head, and there are a few nods towards objective fairness pushing back against the character's sexism (for example, Mastrionni is told he's being a hypocrite because he, too, has past the age that he considers worthy of amorous obsession).  But, yeah, to watch it today, you do have to bear in mind that this was made by an older man in 1960's Italy when the culture was still struggling with equal rights and its relationship to women (the International Feminist Collective wasn't even started there until almost a decade later); Bergman wasn't keying into nuthin'.

So now 8 1/2's history on US DVD has a bit of a curve ball in it.  Criterion first issued it in 2001 as a 2-disc special edition.  And when it was time for the film to come out on blu, Criterion was ready with their 2010 blu, with additional extras and everything.  Standard story.  Oh, and they also included a barebones edition in vol 5 of their hefty Essential Art House DVD sets.  But for whatever reason, in 2002, Image also released 8 1/2 on DVD in the US.  Widescreen, but no extras, single disc, just a year after Criterion's.  Why?  As a budget alternative?  Maybe, but it's list price wasn't particularly low.  The rights for 8 1/2 must've just been a little freer than usual, I guess.  You don't see that happening with most other Criterion titles.  Anyway, it's an odd little curiosity, so I just had to get all three versions to compare for Fellini Week.  And then, of course, I also had to include the new and improved 2020 BD edition, still only available in their Essential Fellini box set. and their latest 4k Ultra HD set from 2024.

1) 2001 Criterion DVD, 2) 2002 Image DVD, 3) 2010 Criterion BD,
4) 2020 Criterion BD, 5) 2024 Criterion BD, 6) 2024 Criterion UHD.

First off, there's nothing egregiously wrong with any edition.  They're all uncut, widescreen, anamorphic and progressive (as opposed to interlaced).  Size-wise, though, each iteration of 8 1/2 seems to fluctuate a bit.  Criterion started us off with a reasonably credible aspect ratio of 1.78:1, just slightly windowboxed to protect for overscan, as Criterion was wont to do in their early days.  Image's DVD then zooms in tighter for a clearly inaccurate AR 1.75:1.  In 2010, then Criterion widened their image even further to 1.85:1, revealing more on all four sides compared to Image's disc, but primarily just on the left compared to their initial DVD.  Criterion's DVD is a bit brighter than the others, and Image's has dirt and debris (look at Barbara Steele's cheek) that Criterion cleaned up.

As for the HD, well, Criterion's booklet tells us the blu was "created on a Spirit Datacine from a restored 35mm fine grain master positive made from the original negative."  And it's obviously a substantial boost in clarity compared to the DVDs, which look fairly equivalent in this regard.  But in terms of film grain and fine detail, well it's inconsistently captured and occasionally blocky, and some shots seem to have been artificially sharpened or otherwise tinkered with... A thoroughly satisfying upgrade in 2010, but not quite up to the top standards of today.

ltr: 2010 Criterion BD, 2020 Criterion BD.

Criterion's 2020 blu is a 4k scan taken from the original 35mm camera negative.  Probably the first thing you'll notice is brighter shadows, revealing detail that was harder to discern (though to be fair, wasn't crushed) on the older disc without over-brightening the whole picture.  Still matted to 1.85:1, the framing pulls out to reveal even more picture.  The slight blocky pixelation I mentioned has been improved, and the tinkering (you won't notice it in the shot of Barbara, but look at Marcello and the tiles behind him in the first set of shots) is gone, which is a relief.  Look at the haloing on the left.  So, yes, it's now been brought up to the standards of today.

...Which is why I was so surprised to see the haloing back in 2024!  Yes, for whatever reason, the 2024 2-disc doesn't include a new blu, or even the 2020 blu, but the old 2010 blu.  WTF?  Fortunately, it's just the secondary disc packaged with a superior, next gen disc.  So I'll only really use the 1080p disc for the extras.  But if you haven't gone 4k yet, be prepared not to get the newer transfer in the latest set.  The important thing is that the UHD has the new scan, and on an actual 4k disc, making it the best available version available.  No HDR, but grain is much clearer and more distinct, and the boost in resolution is genuine for anyone with a set big enough to appreciate it. 

All these editions simply offer the original Italian mono track with optional English subtitles, though the blu-rays and UHD bump it up to lossless LPCM and take a second pass at translating the subs for a more natural, grammatical read.

Fellini: A Director's Notebook

Image's DVD is barebones - not even the trailer - but Criterion gives this film the treatment it deserves.  Their 2-disc set starts out with an enthusiastic introduction by Terry Gilliam, followed by an audio commentary by Fellini's friend Gideon Bachmann combined with essays by scholar Antonio Monda read by an actress.  It's quite impressive, but not so much as the inclusion of Fellini: A Director's Notebook, a 1969 TV movie by Fellini where he goes over his process of making films.  I've seen this described as a documentary, but in fact, it's as fanciful and unreal as Roma or Intervista, with scenes of truckers magically becoming Roman centurions and a host of far-out characters who are presented as being authentic (i.e. hippies who've crashed his film set) but are clearly actors playing scripted roles.  Unfortunately, the picture quality leaves a lot to be desired [see above], but the impression I get is that we're lucky any version of it survives at all.

Anyway, that's far from all.  There's a substantial, 48 minute documentary on Nino Rota, and excellent on-camera interviews with Sandra Milo, Lina Wertmüller and cinematographer Vittorio Storaro.  There are also two photo galleries, the trailer, and a booklet with notes by Fellini himself, Tullio Kezich and Alexander Sesonske.  Criterion's blu, then, includes all of that but also adds a new, almost hour long documentary about Fellini's original intended ending for the film (including photos) and all the changes that were made along the way.

The 2020 blu has all the same extras (except technically, Fellini's Notebook has been moved to another disc in the set), with nothing new except, you know, all the other films and stuff in the collection.  But nothing more for 8 1/2.  And the same goes for the 2024 combopack, nothing new, nothing taken away.  In fact, that may well be why they gave us the 2010 BD instead of the 2024 BD: because Notebook was moved off the 2020 BD and they didn't want to lose any extras in 2024.  So, um, thanks?

Now the first time I saw All These Women, I wasn't aware of any connection to Fellini.  Roger Ebert famously called this the worst film Bergman ever made, and I wonder if he knew the intention either.  Because it's certainly never overtly stated, or even hinted at enough to suggest Bergman could feel the audience has to be acquainted with 8 1/2 to appreciate All These Women.  There's no nod to the meta aspect of 8 1/2 at all, nobody's a filmmaker or speaks of filmmaking in the story, and the look and tone of the film are worlds apart.  This one's about a stuffy music critic who arrives at the estate of a revered composer to interview him, but is constantly being lead around and misdirected by the collection of devoted women who all live there with him.  The women in 8 1/2 never all lived with the director like that, or fawned over him in such a way, except in that one sequence which was presented as a fantasy.  So the attitude Bergman seems to be rebelling against (and arguably with delusional levels of hypocrisy, given what we know of his own love life and relationships with his various leading ladies) is more just a general attitude, which could be found in any number of films just as much, if not moreso, than in 8 1/2.  But still, revisiting All These Women with Bergman's targeted intentions in mind, things do feel a little clearer and the satire a little more pointed.

This film's certainly an odd duck.  It has a very still look, almost like a film in tableau, where the camera delicately frames each shot and then does not move until the next scene.  This style is nothing like what we see in 8 1/2, so it doesn't come from that, but it's a style that absolutely draws attention to itself (including one or two sequences in black and white).  The script was actually co-written by one of Bergman's greatest actors, Erland Josephson, who doesn't appear in this one.  But we do get both Andersson sisters and the criminally underrated Eva Dahlbeck.  This is one of Bergman's rare comedies, a very heavy-handed slapstick farce, with the score repeatedly reverting back to the tune of "Yes! We Have No Bananas" as our leading man knocks over statues or stumbles down stairs.  It's sometimes amusing, but most of the humor (when it works, which isn't consistently) is more understated and hidden in the subtext. It's frantic enough to always hold your interest, and it's undeniably attractive to gaze at, so even if it's Bergman's worst film, that still places far above a great many other films out there with far fewer merits.

For ages, All These Women only had one English-friendly release: the region-locked 2004 Tartan DVD in the UK from their Bergman Collection.  But Criterion changed all that by giving the film it's first US release and the HD debut by including it in their massive Ingmar Bergman's Cinema boxed set in late 2018.

1) 2004 Tartan DVD; 2) 2018 Criterion BD.

Criterion widens out Tartan's ever-so-slightly windowboxed 1.33:1 fullscreen transfer just a tad to 1.38:1, which reveals a tiny sliver along the edges, but mostly crops in the bottom edge.  Criterion's book informs us that this one is a 2k scan of the 35mm interpositive, and while it isn't the most impressive transfer in their box (grain at times seems smoothed away, as if their scan didn't even capture it, and the bright white areas might've yielded a little more detail if they had the OCN), it's a huge leap beyond what we've had before.  Their BD displays more natural colors and much sharper detail compared to the old DVD with it's excessive contrast and a softness which suggests a videotape source overlayed with a little edge enhancement.  It's a fine BD transfer, just not on the cutting edge.  Meanwhile, the DVD was crying for an upgrade.  I mean, look at the first set of shots.  You can't even tell the men are wearing different color suits on Tartan's disc.

Both editions just include the original Swedish mono track with optional English subtitles, though Criterion's BD bumps theirs up to a heartier LPCM track.

Disappointingly, both discs are also essentially barebones.  Tartan threw in a couple of bonus Bergman trailers and an insert with notes by Philip Strick.  And Criterion... well it includes all the other films and generally Bergman-related extras that are part of the box, but nothing All These Women-specific except for the essay in their massive book.  An expert commentary or "visual essay" talking about the film's connection to 8 1/2 would've been nice, even if they couldn't have solicited any interviews, but oh well.

If it were any kind of competition, Fellini obviously won this round, but they both earned their place in cinema history.  Like, if you bought the big Criterion box but skipped All These Women because of its reputation, don't do that.  It's fun, just not on the same level as, say, The Seventh Seal.  And however much 8 1/2 might've gotten Bergman's back up at the time, his rejoinder couldn't have been too spitefully meant, as the pair announced a few years later that they planned to make a film together.  ...It didn't happen, but still.

The Remaining Bergmans, Now With More Face To Face

Okay, so you've bought Criterion's big Ingmar Bergman's Cinema box, The BFI's Ingmar Bergman's Cinema and even Artificial Eye's Classic Bergman set.  But you're still hungry.  Ingmar Bergman's an unparalleled master and you know he's made plenty more films than those, so what else can you get your hands on and add to the collection?  Well, unfortunately, not a whole lot, despite the large number of films he's written and/ or directed that remain unavailable on home video.  There's Best Intentions and Faithless, which I've already covered, and then just three more.  And two of those are DVD-only.

Update 10/3/22 - 2/25/24: Well, thanks to Imprint's new Face To Face blu-ray edition, now only one of these are DVD-only.  Can we make it zero?  And release all of Bergman's remaining films?  Hopefully, but today let's just be happy about Face To Face.

In 1970, Bergman wrote an original feature length film for Swedish television called The Lie, directed by Jan Molander, and starring one of Bergman's greatest actors, Erland Josephson, about a middle class couple hopelessly trapped in a mass of deception.  If the made-for-TV aspect makes it sound less interesting, remember some of Bergman's most acclaimed and beloved works were made for Swedish television, like Fanny & Alexander and Scenes From a Marriage (both also with Josephson, by the way).  Sounds like something you'd like to see now, huh?  Well, tough noogies; you can't.  It's another on the very long list of Bergman films never released in an English-friendly capacity, or even really as a Swedish-only release, apart from its televised broadcast.

However in America, Bergman's same script was adapted into an English-language television film starring George Segal, Shirley Knight and Robert Culp.  Ah, but no, you can't get that one anywhere either.  BUT, also during that time the BBC adapted the very same screenplay for British television, starring Gemma Jones (Sense & Sensibility, The Devils) and Frank Finlay (Lifeforce, Dennis Potter's Casanova).  The performances are powerful and nuanced, the director seems to be making deliberate nods to Bergman as a director (like all those mirror shots), and the writing is some of Bergman's strongest.  Only the music seems out of place, like BBC library stock stuff; but even that's not bad, just incongruous. And this version of The Lie actually IS available.  And this version won a BAFTA, so we shouldn't feel too short-changed.  It's on blu-ray as part of the BFI's first volume of its Play for Today box sets from 2020.

2020 UK BFI BD.

According to the included booklet, the episodes in this box are broken into two categories: those shot on video and "sourced from the best existing tape materials preserved by the BBC" and those shot on film, which are "newly scanned at 2k resolution from the original 17mm A/B roll camera negatives."  Fortunately, The Lie is one of the latter, and looks fantastic.  It's presented in its original 1.33:1 and looks very grainy, something that never would've come through during its original airings.  But it's very clearly encoded and looks quite impressive.  There is no interlacing despite it being a vintage 70s British television program, because they went back to the original film elements.  The original mono track is presented in a strong, lossless LPCM track with optional English subtitles.

The only extras are an image gallery and an 80-page full-color booklet, and of course the other seven Play for Today episodes, which range from good to great.  There's one on the troubles in Ireland that struck me as much more compelling than Branagh's Belfast which came out around the same time as this set, and a creepy horror story called A Photograph.  So I can understand a Bergman fan being frustrated they can't just buy The Lie by itself, but the whole set is worth having in your collection.

Next up is a proper theatrical film (although there was an extended television version released afterwards) written and directed by Bergman: 1975's Face To Face.  Bergman and star Liv Ullmann were both nominated for Oscars for this picture, so again, it's not like it's all lesser work that's been neglected on blu.  This one's a pretty harrowing tale of mental illness, with Ullmann as a psychiatrist whose problems run as deep as her patients'.  She takes on a lover, Erland Josephson again, who proves to be a far more loving companion than her own husband, and Gunnar Bjornstrand appears as her aging grandfather.  This one's pretty dark, and relatable despite risking going over the top at more than one point.  And it includes some of the most believable and heart-wrenching dream sequences committed to cinema, making those famous Wild Strawberries bits feel like trivialities.

Face To Face had only been available (English-friendly at any rate) as a 2011 barebones DVD from Olive Films, though at least it's anamorphic widescreen.  I remember some controversy when it was released, because people felt Olive acquiring the rights cut off Criterion from giving this a proper restoration, and possibly both cuts.  But of course it's pure speculation that they would've done that, and certainly getting this disc was better than the other possible alternative: nothing.  But now we don't have to choose between a DVD or nothing; we have a brand new blu-ray edition (also of the theatrical version; the extended TV cut is still unavailable anywhere) from Via Vision's Imprint, due out this Wednesday.

2011 US Olive Films DVD top; 2024 AUS Imprint BD bottom.

 

Olive presents Face To Face in a rather fuzzy 1.78:1.  It's standard def, so the hints we get of film grain are about the most we could ask for, but it sure seems like this image could be sharper, even on DVD.  But the real problem is the sound.  It's a static-y mess that sounds like it's been Noise Gate'd, so it's silent between words, but whenever anybody speaks, it's a metallic mess, as if you're hearing them through a bad telephone connection; and when people make small, innocuous movements, it sometimes sounds like they're sitting on their lavaliers.

Imprint presents the film in a sharper 1.67:1, giving us more vertically, though shaving a sliver off the sides.  And though the film is still on the soft side (almost looking like 16mm, though I understand it was shot on 35, so I'm guessing this was taken from a later generation element, rather than the original negatives), the film grain tell us this is a much clearer look at the film source.  It certainly brings detail and edges into focus.  And thank goodness, they've improved the sound.  It's still not perfect... it's still excessively loud when people sit on the sofa or rustle their coats, and there's slight background hiss.  But it's nothing like the static-y DVD.  It's also lossless now.  The whole thing's a big improvement.  Oh, and in both cases, the subtitles are removable.

Olive has no extras, not even the trailer.  Imprint doesn't have the trailer either, but comes in a stylish slipcase; and more importantly, they've got some impressive goodies.  First up is an expert commentary by Michael Brooke, and it's damn good.  A lot of "expert" commentaries and featurettes I've watched lately have been eye rollingly indulgent if not outright wastes of our time.  But this guy's pretty great, very well informed, leaves no dead air, cites lots of sources and is consistently interesting.  I wish other commentators would aim for this standard, even if they can't reach it every time.  Also on here is a visual essay by Kat Ellinger, and similarly, I've been a little let down by some of her recent output... maybe she's just agreeing to too many projects and unable to devote enough time to them all?  Or maybe she just takes a deeper interest in some films and their special features more than others?  I don't know, but she nails it here.  Starting off very informative and citing interesting sources, then easing into her excellently made thesis that this is an under-appreciated (including by Bergman himself) feminist work.

My only nitpick, and this is admittedly a petty one, is that she uses fake film damage, jitter and projector noise... you know, that fake "old timey" video filter that comes packaged in every free video editor.  And it's like, why spoil the rare photos she's sharing in her video for a silly gimmick?  There's never a good reason to degrade good footage with those cheesy filters.  But again, I acknowledge that's pure nitpickery; just a little pet peeve of mine.  Honestly, I might've skipped over both of these extras if I didn't feel obligated to watch them for this review, but I'm glad I gave them the chance and recommend all you readers do the same.

Finally, we end with the most underrated of the three, 2000's The Image Makers.  This is another made-for-Swedish-television project, and in this case really looks it.  It's all set in one room like a stage-play, which in fact it originally was, although the camera is certainly moving and cutting around.  This one's directed by Bergman (and he also directed the original theatrical production) but written by Per Olov Enquist (Pelle the Conqueror), although it really, really feels like a Bergman script, to the point where I suspect he at least had a hand in rewriting it for the screen, and perhaps rather liberally.  It's certainly an interesting coincidence that both this and Face To Face have an older person tell a middle-aged woman that "old age is Hell."

Anyway, it's the story of the making of the classic Swedish ghost movie, 1921's The Phantom Carriage.  The author of the original film arrives at the studio to see clips of the film Victor Sjöström and his cinematographer Julius Jaenzon have made of her work.  However, to complicate matters, Tora Teje, the actress having an affair with the director and who feels the leading part should have been hers, shows up at the same time and makes a scene.  It's on one hand a fascinating mediation on the ownership/ creation of art - how can the author, director, actor and photographer each feel the art projected on screen is their singular vision?  But it's also a powerful human drama where the making of The Phantom Carriage is really just the backdrop to a forceful study of love, heartbreak, infidelity and cruel fathers.  There's a cheap shot-on-video look to the film, amplified by the staginess of the setting, that signals The Image Makers as a forgettable lesser work.  But when you really settle into it, it's as moving and thoughtful a work as Bergman's greatest films.

But to date, this film has only been released on DVD in the UK by Tartan in 2008.

You may've also noticed that Tartan's release is a 2-disc double feature, and in fact the lead film isn't The Image Makers, but the original Phantom Carriage.  It works as a nice supplement to The Image Makers, but as a stand-alone disc, it's not too impressive.  It's somewhat window-boxed 1.32:1, interlaced, and barebones.  So in an age where Criterion has released an impressive special edition blu-ray, this really isn't a go-to disc for Phantom Carriage.  The reason to buy this set is The Image Makers.  But it's a damn good reason.

2008 UK Tartan DVD.

Thankfully, even though disc 1 is interlaced, The Image Makers' DVD is not.  It's 1.32:1 just like the The Phantom Carriage, and apart from a handful of clips from the 1921 film, looks like it was shot on video.  If it was shot on film, then this was definitely taken from a video master.  Either way, it looks bold and clear, and about as good as you could hope for from a master like this.  It would be interesting to see if an HD restoration from the original elements - whatever those may be - could do for this film; but I wouldn't expect much.  The sound is a clean mono track, the subtitles are removable, and the only extra is a fold-out insert with notes by David Thompson, director of Encountering Bergman.

Needless to say, all three of the releases covered above are must-haves for Bergman fans.  And yes, it's very much worthy double-dipping from Olive's DVD to Imprint's BD of Face To Face.  Now hopefully some label or other will see fit to continue to plumb the depths of Bergman's incredible catalog.

Liv Ullmann Directs Ingmar Bergman's Faithless

Faithless is a script Ingmar Bergman wrote late in life, a very introspective, even autobiographical one. And yet he chose not to direct it. Instead he gave it to his longtime lover and star Liv Ullmann, who by that time had already made several films of her own. It was first issued on DVD in the UK by Tartan, and then in the USA by First Look. It's long been stated that while the film is rather long, roughly two and a half hours, that the import DVD features an even longer "international cut" (for example, they list it on the film's dvdcompare page) That's the version I always had, but I recently picked up a copy of the US DVD to see what's so different about the two versions, since I can't find any site anywhere that specifies. And I was rather surprised by what I found.

Update 11/22/15 - 4/27/22: Throw those DVDs in the garbage!  A far superior new blu-ray has just been released by the BFI.  Bam!

Ullmann cast one of Bergman's best staple actors, Erland Josephson (Scenes From a Marriage, Face To Face, etc) to play the lead, and wow does that pay off. This is a very grounded film of long, steady close-ups and realistic human emotion, and Josephson can bring the power to that like very few actors in film history. He plays Bergman, an isolated film director who lives alone on an island writing scripts about the loves and infidelities of his past, and conjures up his former lover (played by Lena Endre) to retell their entire story from her point of view (though there's a surprising and moving shift in perspective in the third act). What makes it work is that it's very strong emotional subject matter handled very honestly and subtly. It's not melodrama, in fact the first half or so is very slow moving; but by the end: "oof!"

You could certainly accuse Ullmann of imitating Bergman's style here, but that's hardly a bad thing considering how well it works; and it's especially appropriate given that this is not only his writing, but a story seen through the eyes of himself as a filmmaker. Although I also noticed touches that I'm sure Ullmann put in there that Bergman never would have.  In fact, the fact that this story focuses more on the children of the destroyed relationship, something Bergman has often glossed over, lends considerably more dramatic power.  It might be a bold admission, but I consider Faithless, a film not directed by Bergman, to be one of the very top Bergman films.

One of Bergman's many crossed paths with A Dream Play.

Okay, now here's the story with the "international cut:" there's no such thing, at least not on Tartan's DVD. I watched both country's DVDs side by side and there isn't a single deviation or extra scene, shot or trimming. It's 100% the same movie. There are a few factors about the running time that probably added some confusion to the mix. First, naturally, there's the whole PAL/ NTSC business. Also, the US DVD has a couple trailers on it, and they're on the disc as one long video file with the main feature, so the running time on your player is actually adding the time of the movie and the trailers together for one larger sum. There's also different company logos in front of the opening credits and all. So, actually just looking at the movies themselves, the UK disc runs about 148 minutes, and the US is about 154... not 142 like it says on the back of the case. I believe that misprint is entirely at fault for the idea of there being more than one version of the film. Account for PAL speed-up, and they're the same length.

1) 2003 US First Look DVD; 2) 2001 UK Tartan DVD; 3) 2022 UK BFI BD.

And as you can see, the two DVDs have very different looks, as indeed does the new blu. The UK DVD has a very high-contrast (crushed, even) look suggesting it was taken from a film print, whereas the US DVD has a much more natural look, seemingly taken from the negative. That's great for the US disc, but unfortunately, it's full-screen, and not even open matte. It's an old school "chop the sides off" job. The UK disc is slightly pillar-boxed to about 1.74:1, and it's anamorphic, which is a relief. But both discs are a heavy compromise. If only we could've gotten the best of both worlds, we'd have had a pretty nice looking release.

Well, now we have even better than the best of both previous worlds.  We have a properly widescreen 1.85:1 transfer.  And the fresh 2k scan is of the original 35mm negative (and according to the booklet, a bit taken from the 35mm duplicating positive).  There is just so much more detail and clarity, as well as more photo realistic coloring, the screenshots really speak for themselves even if you don't bother to click through to the full resolution versions.  Just look.

All three discs feature the original Swedish stereo mix, but the new lossless version on the BFI blu sounds more robust and authentic.  They've also added a DTS-HD 5.1 mix.  Oh, and also the English subtitles are removable, which is more than can be said for the burnt in ones on the Tartan disc.

The US disc only has a couple of trailers for extras, though at least one of those is the actual Faithless trailer. The UK disc has the trailer and a bunch of bonus ones, too, but it also has the very substantial bonus feature of an on-camera interview with Liv Ullmann. It's pretty in-depth, lasting over 31 minutes.

BFI now, has really turned it into a special edition.  First of all, yes, they have kept the Tartan interview and they still have the trailer, so no ground lost.  They've also added a new, expert audio commentary by critic Adrian Martin, and it's excellent.  No dead space and a lot of information and insight, including some readings from Bergman's autobiography that sync up surprisingly specifically with this film.  Then, there are two more interviews with Ullmann, both are on-stage and last over an hour each.  There is some unfortunate redundancy, and it would have been nice if somebody could've edited these so we wouldn't be hearing the same 5-6 minute anecdotes repeated practically verbatim.  That's downright punishing to sit through.  But you'll be rewarded, because each interview also has a lot of unique content, with fun anecdotes about her career and insight into Faithless.  There are also two stills galleries and a hefty, full-color, 34-page booklet including two essays, a director's statement and an interview with Ullmann.

So the international cut seems to be a myth. I mean, okay, maybe there's another version out there somewhere that runs longer; however beyond early assemblies or workprints, I'd be surprised if that's the case.  Despite there only being one cut of the film, though, the home video releases are quite different. But there's no question which is the winner now.  BFI's new blu is a beaut that puts the old editions to shame.  Faithless is a masterpiece, and this is a must-own.

Now where's Private Confessions?