Review of Persona (2008) by Jake R — 31 Jul 2009

Robbed of his dominance of European cinema by the moody kids of the New Wave, crippled by a punishing series of physical and psychological ailments, the mid-60s were a testing time for Ingmar Bergman, already world-renowned for his melancholic treatises on quiet lives and for the medieval masterpiece 'The Seventh Seal'. Feeling a sense of duty to his studio, the bedridden Bergman quickly wrote and set in motion a film that would make him stand alongside Hitchcock and Welles as makers of momunmental cinema.

Like most of Bergman's films, 'Persona' is built up of elements of his own psychosis and mentality, but it goes much further than that. Everything about the film is to do with how the individual perceives oneself in the world. Opening with a montage of images that tap into direct responses - fear, disgust, confusion - Bergman straight away mocks the adage that life is planned on a set course. The silent figure of a skinny boy tries to recognise an array of blurry faces that carry the same expression and melt into each other; another foreshadow of the themes that will evolve in the film, it's a Shakespearean prologue that summarises Bergman's ultimate comment: that everyone's 'persona', the identity they create to survive in the world, is just as indistinct, indifferent and uninteresting as the rest and is a barrier from the real humanity (as the boy) that tries to reach us.

The characters of Alma and Elisabet form two halves of a symbolic whole, and, shut away from the outside world, the two wrestle for control.

At first it seems that Alma is the heroine; she symbolises the earnestness and compliant being who plays by the rules and is conetent to be content. Elisabet then seems like the darker side, the emotional blockage and intellectual millstone that weighs a person down in those moments of truthful thought. A vampiric relationship in favour of Elisabet is hinted at, with a dreamy nighttime 'feed' reminiscent of classic vampire iconography, but Alma proves to be the real controlling figrure. When Elisabet appears to devour Alma's integrity voluntarily she'll soon be forced to acknowledge Alma's impenetrable desire. Throughout the film Alma breaks down and becomes more emotional as she evaluates and re-evaluates the 'happy' future she's planned, whilst trying to convince herself the end result is enough to excuse the irregular incidents in her past. Elisabet remains unperturbed, analytical and observant, her stern gaze unwavering and absolute. But at about the half way mark, the complete collapse of sanity is symbolised by the Alma's glass of water: fragility, destruction, half-hearted amendment, indifference, maliciousness, blood-letting and finally total chaos, when the film itself catches and 'burns' in the projector. From this point on Alma is the one who becomes more dominant, using force, intimidation and hysterics to bully Elisabet because she does not understand her when she thought she did, and nor does she undderstand Elisabet 'studying' her. In the confrontation scene Alma uses emotional blackmail to shatter Elisabet's crusade for truth, showing her that ignoring humanity is even more susceptable to sabotage than pretending to be happy. The submission is complete when Elisabet sups at Alma's wrist and concludes her experiment with her only word in the film: 'Nothing'. It seems that the noble and more honest intentions of the heart and mind cannot win against the massed power and determination of the soul (which 'Alma' is Spanish for.).

Though there are a lot of details that tie this particular identity crisis to the world of film - Elisabet being a famous actress - the outpourings, confessions and stories could happen to any ordinary Joe. 'Persona' may look and feel tied exclusively to Bergman himself, but the anguish of self-loathing happens to everyone at some point, whether it lasts for seconds or years. We might not dwell on them long enough to put words to feelings, but Bergman certainly has, and 'Persona' is a towering work that draws in so many vague and random concepts into a succinct, explosive whole.

For its reputation 'Persona' is not an endless talk-fest. As with all Bergman there is a huge amount of dialogue, but it's never inane or rambling. Words are used to display the ineffectiveness of mere specualtion, and their only real effect is in revelation instead of discussion. Sven Nykvist's outstanding cinematography creates a world of bleached contrasts, the storm-clouded seaside location of Faro washed out with sickly brightness or damp darkness, simultaneously beautiful and neaseating. Lars Werle's tempestuous score billows with a grim coldness adding to the feeling of unease. And through it all are two magnificent performances.

Bibi Andersson, having already collaborated with Bergman over the last ten years, looks suitably frumpy yet trendy as Nurse Alma, her petulant youth a dry dig at the childishly reckless misfits of the New Wave, down to the oversized sunglasses. Her constant yapping provides a soundtrack of charged words, and her silences feel even more isolatory than Elisabet's when they come. Liv Ullmann makes for an incredible debut, playing a more mature character despite being young than Andersson. With her devastating beauty, her red hair and piercing blue eyes somehow burning through the monochrome, Ullmann is ideal as the weary actress, her surprising height adding to the awkward, vying relationship between sense and senselessness. With a performance locked into the nuances of body and face Ulmann is a triumph, adding enormous emotional colour to a role that would've been energetically overplayed by any other actor. Instead, Ullmann is a very assured actress, her Elisabet a wise and careful character conserving her actions economically. No better players could ever have been found.

And, after all that, 'Persona' is never simply a distant art piece. Beautifully warm touches are applied to thaw the iciness overhead, such as the women's trip to look for mushrooms or Elisabet giving Alma a caring neck massage. There are also witty visual echoes down the film that remind of the circular nature of the themes and how the film closes with the same image it opened with.

'Persona' is a film like 'Vertigo': an almost uncomfortably personal product of its director, yet forged with such intense artistry and complexity that it yields to and rebuffs endless interpretation. And like that other masterpiece, it may not be the casual watcher's cup of tea, but it is certainly an essential piece of cinematic fabric and an important example of the genius film can really achieve.