Review of Cries and Whispers (1972) by Jake R — 21 Aug 2008

One of Bergman's lesser known works, this is still a fantastic example of his ability to explore emotion through vivid utilisation of the visual language of film.

Using one of his simpler stories, Bergman concentrates on the human effect of death and sadness on a group of women who are all family (Anna is so close she might as well be included.).

From the beginning, errie tinkling over the minimalist credits tell the audience this is a film about time, and how people mostly ignore its consequences. The motif of clocks reminds the audience that the sisters have run out of time with Agnes, but still have all the time left to reconcile with each other, though they often get this the wrong way around. The clocks are also ambiguous in nature, as the interspersed flashback sequences never reveal if time is passing between the past and the present, and whether we're watching it or not.

Then there's Bergman's Kubrickian attention to detail, notably sound. Every breath, quickened, full of sadness, is heard and the dialogue is literally whispered. Sometimes sound mimics the neuroses of the characters in the segment it looks at, such as the baby crying in Anna's portion. Small references like this again bring the audience either forward or back in time as we remember Anna's daughter's death and we see she is just as traumatised and shattered by Agnes's death as Maria and Karin.

The quarter of Thulin, Sylwan, Ullmann and Andersson work closely together to provide several shades of the same character: bitterness, perseverance, humanity and regret, respectively. All look at themselves and wonder at what they have become from a time not so long ago when they were all much happier. Bergman is more sour and unforgiving here, forcing the women to face the fact that they have all missed their chances in life and must either start again or die, as Anna and Agnes are made to do. They are typically great performances, all exuding a nuance and professionalism that suits well to Bergman's penchant for lingering close ups. Ullmann in particular appears positively lush in colour and simmeringly sexual in her scenes with the doctor.

Throughout there is a murky sexual undertone. Agnes views her sisters and mother with jealousy because of their better looks; Maria holds a desire for the doctor and uses her devastating beauty to no avail and Karin, in the film's most disturbing scene, frustrated by her lack of love and intimacy from her husband bloodiy mutilates herself, seeing no point in being able to bear children if they are not wanted in her relationship. Needless to say these intense emotions spark into brutal verbal conflicts that further shock and shake the women to their vulnerable cores, the memories and consequences swirling around them in that house. That dreaded house....

The most arresting and direct aspect of 'Cries and Whispers' is the visuals. Shot in saturated light and utilising a deep, sickly colour of red that creates a chiaroscuro effect with the women's virginal white dresses, the whole conjures a delirious atmosphere, as if the audience is in the middle of a searing headache. It perfectly mirrors the damaged and neuseous feelings of the characters, painting their emotions onto their very surroundings.

This a deft and intricate insight into psychology, brilliantly showcasing Bergman's incredible talent in dealing with very human stories. Kubrick with feeling. This is a definite watch for people wanting a piece of real cinema.