liv ullmann, ingrid thulin
harriet andersson, kari sylwan
unfashionable observations rating: A
This is probably one of the most personal movies Bergman made. He was an avowed agnostic, and that carried with it some serious existential problems: If there is no God, then where are we to find meaning? Is there meaning at all? Or is it all just an accidental nothingness? And what of our destiny after death? Even if there is a God, does he even care about us? Why is there so much pain and suffering in the world?
All of those questions are answered in one form or another through the firm belief in God. Those who have faith are not plagued by these questions. But as an agnostic, faith was not possible for Bergman. The irony of Bergman's agnositicism was that his indifference towards God's existence (which is the very definition of agnosticism) led him to become ever-more interested in that question, and its many ramifications.
And we see this interest manifest itself most clearly in Cries and Whispers. This movie tells the story of three sisters and their servant. One of the sisters--Agnes--finds herself on her deathbed, struggling for life day in and day out in what can only be described as extreme agony. The other two sisters and the servant are there to try to make her remaining few days as comfortable as possible.
However, faced with her death, Agnes' sisters are slowly unmasked, and it is revealed that they are not the selfless saints that they appear to be. Through vignettes of things past, Bergman shows us two women who are nothing if not morally-bankrupt self-haters. In one horrifying scene of self-disgust, one sister takes a shard of glass and mutilates her genitalia, only to smear the blood all over her face while her husband watches in terror. She then smiles, baring her blood-stained teeth like a crazed wild animal.
Clearly, something is wrong with a person who would act this way. Or perhaps something is missing. Bergman spends the bulk of the movie trying to make the point that Agnes' sisters have never had a close, intimate relationship with anyone at all, not even their husbands. Indeed, one of the sisters cheats on her husband rather blatantly. The suggestion is that, because of this lack of closeness or love in their lives, they have become selfish and utterly reprehensible, unworthy of salvation. They do not love, and have no true inclination to love. A kind of spiritual damnation therefore follows these loveless souls.
On the other hand, Anna, the servant girl, is presented as the only truly good person in the movie. And it is no coincidence that she is also the only one with faith. Early in the movie, we observe her quietly praying to God, and asking that He take care of her dead daughter in Heaven. The scene is simple and subtle. Far from religious fanaticism, Anna oozes with a sense of grace that is lacking in all other characters in the movie. Perhaps in our oh-so modern age we may look at this scene with utter skepticism and even distaste. But there is a sense that Bergman was somehow envious of such innocent simplicity. And rightly so, for those thorny existential questions that plagued Bergman could never plague someone like Anna.
But perhaps more important than her faith is her love for Agnes, who essentially becomes a writhing, screaming non-human. Anna's compassion and love for Agnes is contrasted to the sisters' standoffishness. While Anna brings the screaming Agnes up to her bare breast for loving comfort, Agnes' sisters wait for her death in another room. Anna provides Agnes with a kind of salvation from the pain, and in so doing also secures her own spiritual salvation.
In the end, we find that to love is to be saved. In a final scene, we see that Agnes loved her life because she was able to love her sisters. It didn't matter that they didn't love her. The very question of whether Agnes' sisters returned the love she gave them was irrelevant. This is why, in the end, Agnes could affirm her life even though it was so full of pain. The opportunity to love another was enough to overcome all the pain and suffering in the world that Bergman could never seem to finally accept.
