Autumn Sonata

Late Bergman is simply unparalleled. He is the absolute epitome of a director having aged like fine wine. Autumn Sonata is in many ways similar to earlier films such as Winter Light and Persona, though with the continued and added layer of further filmic maturity. The heavy-handed and even somewhat uncomfortable beauty of this film lies in those immaculate monologic exchanges of conceited anguish and contempt between mother and daughter, or in that sequence where they exchange interpretations of Chopin’s Preludes, with dozens of underlying passions subtly revealing themselves all at once. And of course, Sven Nykvist’s colour photography is simply genius, that ever-familiar focus on the composition of the face being utilised to its greatest extent. What’s perhaps ignored about this film is the concealed mastery of the editing. The flowing from one image to another under the constant guise of those monologues allows for Ingmarsdotter to evoke these powerful impressions in the nuanced implications from the cut. I swear every time I go into a Bergman film, I am fooled that I am watching a light, sentimental family drama, and come out entirely devistated. Wasn’t expecting this to be quite so resontant.