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?

Ingmar Bergman Volume 1: The Only One You Need

Ingmar Bergman Volume 1 is one of four recent blu-ray box sets from the BFI.  Volumes 3 & 4 aren't out yet, but they've been announced and we know what's on them.  As you can guess, they're collections of his most famous and influential films, and if you already have Criterion's massive Ingmar Bergman's Cinema box set, you don't need any of the later sets, unless you're in it for every single exclusive special feature.  Every film in those is featured there, and they all seem to be using the same 2017 2k restorations by Svenska Filminstitutet, to the point that the transfers are virtually indistinguishable.  If you haven't got the Criterion box, these make for a perfectly reasonable UK alternative... although the BFI sets are missing some films and a bunch of extras Criterion has... unless a Volume 5 gets announced in future.  But for now, they're essentially redundant.  But not Volume 1.  Volume 1 is special, since it introduces four Ingmar Bergman films to blu-ray that aren't in the Criterion box or available anywhere else.  So it's a must.

Now this set has eight films all told, five of which were already featured on my previous Early Bergman post, which I've now updated to include the new BFI blus.  They are: Torment, Crisis, Port Of Call, Thirst and To Joy.  The other three have only previously been available on DVD from Tartan, all of which I also have, so let's see how they compare below.

We begin with 1948's Music In Darkness, one of the (semi) rare films Bergman directed but did not write himself.  It's based on a novel by Dagmar Edqvist, who also wrote the screenplay, about a soldier who goes blind in a somewhat silly scene, rescuing a puppy that somehow wandered onto a firing range.  Bergman regular Birger Malmsten - who in fact is in seven of the eight films in this set - plays the lead who finds life can get even bleaker than you might expect when he finds out how society treats the sightless.  His fiance leaves him, everyone takes advantage of him, even children steal money from him.  Through his love of music, he pushes on and even attempts a new relationship with a servant girl he once looked down on.

There's a lot of Bergman in this early work, from the boldly unsentimental story points to some creative visuals including a somewhat abstract dream sequence, though it leans a little more towards the romantic side, which is probably inherent in the source novel.  Everyone talks about the nude scene, which I guess was a big deal in the 40s; but now a small, early appearance by the great Gunnar Björnstrand as a fellow musician is much more noteworthy.  Sure this stuff is melodrama, but that's always elevated in Bergman's hands.

2006 UK Tartan DVD top; 2021 UK BFI BD bottom.

Tartan's release is pretty nice - strong picture, progressive image.  It's a little boxy at 1.30:1, something BFI corrects to 1.38, but for a DVD, it's pretty nice.  Of course, BFI's new HD scan from the 35mm duplicating negative is even better.  You're not going to discover new detail, per se, but it's sharper and now the grain is clear, giving us a properly filmic image, which also has slightly deeper blacks.  And while both discs present the original Swedish mono with removable English subtitles, BFI bumps it up to lossless LPCM.

Eva also came out in 1948.  But where Bergman wrote Music In Darkness, but didn't write it, this one he wrote but didn't direct.  That duty is handled by Gustaf Molander, best known for launching Ingrid Bergman's career with 1939's Intermezzo.  Birger is back as another former soldier, and boy, if you thought they put his character through the wringer last time...!  This guy's life is nothing but tragedy, built on the foundation of a lifetime of guilt he carries for the death of a young girl he accidentally killed as a young child.  As an adult, his uncle dies, and his only solace is the love he finds in the titular Eva.  That seems pretty ideal at first, but a swanky Eva Dahlbeck and her sleazy boyfriend Stig Olin are luring him into betraying her, and possibly committing murder!

This film's a little all over the place.  We follow our lead through two time-lines at first, his past as a young boy and his present, returning home from the army.  And the plot has us skipping to various locations and isolated casts of characters.  Wanda Rothgardt puts in a funny turn as Birger's aunt as they stay with his uncle during his final hours on his deathbed, and the section with Dahlbeck suddenly feels like a Tennessee Williams play took over the set.  Oh, and did I mention that at one point they move to a small island, but it's during the war, so dead German soldiers keep washing up on shore?  This one's more fun than Music, but still manages to be a rather compelling and serious-minded meditation on mortality.

2005 UK Tartan DVD top; 2021 UK BFI BD bottom.

So the situation's slightly different in this Tartan/ BFI comparison.  This time, Tartan's disc is still pretty decent, non-interlaced and all, but it has a slightly shifting AR, from about 1.34-1.37, and it has much greyer black levels, giving it a softer, gauzier look.  That effectively makes it feel more like an Nth generation dupe.  So BFI's blu, this time taken from an original 35mm interpositive, feels is an even more satisfying step up.  And it's another well encoded 2k scan.

Again, both discs feature the original Swedish mono, in LPCM on the blu, with optional English subtitles.

We go from bleak to bleaker to bleakest with this trilogy of films.  1949's Prison is both written and directed by Bergman, and it opens with an old man pitching an idea to a filmmaker to make a movie where the devil is some kind of understanding, sympathetic character as the world has become a sort of Hell on Earth.  This film's not really about that, except in a metaphorical way.  Instead of following the old man's idea, our director instead seeks inspiration from the story of a young woman who's trapped in a life of abusive sex work.  Things get so tragic, he winds up discovering for himself that the man was right, and we're all trapped in our own Hellish prisons anyway.

Bergman gets visually inventive with lots of prison bar imagery and an extended dream sequence.  With one of the major characters being a working filmmaker, there are lots of fun glimpses into the workings of a film studio, and when our young lovers hole up in an attic to watch a silent film on a dusty projector, we cut to the entire, original silent comedy created by Bergman for this piece.  You've seen it in a lot of Bergman documentaries and such; well, here's where it originated.  Birger Malmsten and Stig Olin are back, and acclaimed director Hasse Ekman cameos as the old man, but it's the young ingenue Doris Svedlund who steals the show.  Overall, this one's a bit of a mishmash, but a fascinating one.

2006 UK Tartan DVD top; 2021 UK BFI BD bottom.

This time, curiously, BFI's blu is framed at 1.33, and Tartan's blu is closer to 1.30, making them both slightly boxier than you might expect, with BFI actually zooming in a teensy bit tighter than Tartan.  Tartan's image is slightly vertically squeezed, too, which BFI fixes.  And after Tartan's milkier black levels on Eva, they're back to a good, deep level here, so it actually holds up rather well.  Of course BFI's blu, taken from an original 35mm interpositive, is still better.  But it's a smaller gap than some of the others.  But let's not get carried away - there are limits to SD, so this DVD can't help but be softer with grain only hinted at by random, smudgy clumps.  But when you're not looking at zoomed in screenshots, the difference is mostly just that the blu is a little sharper and more nuanced.

And of course, both discs provide the original Swedish mono with optional English subs, but only the blu is lossless.

There aren't many special features to speak of.  The Tartan discs are all barebones apart from a couple trailers for Bergman's more famous films and inserts with notes by Philip Strick.  BFI, meanwhile, as essentially come up with two extras.  One is a vintage audio interview with Bergman, which plays as an audio commentary on Torment, which I discuss more on that film's page.  And the other is a brief but thoughtful video essay by Leigh Singer, which serves as a nice introduction to Bergman's early films.  It also includes a 96-page book with essays on all eight films and additional notes on the transfers and extras.  It's all attractively packaged in a sturdy slip box and limited to 5,000 copies.  While it can be a bit annoying to double-dip on some of the films that are nearly identically presented in Criterion's box, the four exclusive films, plus the new bonus content, is more than worth the price for the full set.  And then we can give our wallets a break as BFI continues with the rest of their series.