User reviews

It's in a way fitting, that Ingmar Bergman, one of the cinema's best directors, to choose to depart in this fashion, by expanding on an early work, which was by all accounts fully realized, or so we thought. In "Sarabande" we are reunited with Johan and Marianne, the protagonists of "Scenes from a Marriage". Mr. Bergman seems to have composed a suite in which the Sarabande movement, which is usually introspective and dark, gives the tone to his account in this new work.

If you haven't seen the film, perhaps you should stop reading now.

When we last saw Johan and Marianne they gave the impression their relationship was over. We get to know in "Sarabande" that yes, it really happened, but that a lot of years have passed between the lovers without any actual contact between them. Usually, when intense love affairs end, both partners stay away from one another. It comes as a surprise that Marianne will even try to see Johan after all the intervening years.

When we first meet Johan, he appears to be much older than what he really is. Time has not been kind to him, or so it appears. Marianne, on the other hand is still an interesting woman, who of course, is much younger, but the contrast heightens what appears to be a gulf now between them.

Things are complicated with the introduction of Henrik, Johan's own son, who has moved to a cottage in the property, where he is living with his daughter Karin. Henrik's wife has died, but her picture seems to dominate their lives. In fact, there is something incestuous in the relationship between Henryk and Karin. We watch them in bed, although there's nothing improper about it, but we start to get a different image of what really is going on in the cottage. At one point Karin kisses her father in a way that it confirms the love-hate emotions within Karin's heart. She is trying to break away from this situation in whatever way she can.

In a way we realize that Johan, who seems to hate Henrik, perceives what is going on, but he doesn't have the strength to confront this sad man that is his son. Maryanne, stays away from the feud going on between father and son. It's clear she feels deeply for Karin, a girl that has gained her trust, but there she feels nothing for Henrik.

The acting is first rate, as in most of Mr. Bergman's films. He has the uncanny gift to get great performances from his cast, as it's the case with "Saraband". Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson are perfect as the one time lovers Marianne and Johan. Borje Ahlstedt makes an unappealing and tormented Henrik. The luminous Julia Dufvenius is marvelous as Karin, the young woman, basically at the center of the story.

This is a great coda for Mr. Bergman. He leaves us with an emotional charged film that will be treasured by all his fans.

Ingmar Bergman goes on trying to find the meaning of life and the world and what means sentiment after all. Do we love when we think we hate? What's going on in the deepness of human soul? What justifies our actions? Which truth commands human relations mainly family and marital ones? This quest is pursued by formal means and themes different of those used in some of his previous movies such as The Seventh Seal or Persona but the same interrogation is always there. A sexagenarian lady decides to pay a visit to her ex-husband whom she had not seen for more than 30 years. She will be then the spectator of a series of events involving his ex-husband, his son of a previous marriage and the latter's young daughter in a tempest of violent feelings and psychological outbursts against which her serenity and wisdom make an interesting counterpoint. There is also another character whose presence is overwhelming despite the fact that she is already dead when the movie begins: Anna the former wife of the ex-husband's son. She still lives in the heart and of the two men and the young girl with her words and deeds. The love-hate relationship between father and son and father and daughter is very intense. The scene where the character played by Erland Josephson yields one night to anguish and anxiety and seeks refuge in her ex-wife's bed ( without any sex being involved) is extremely moving. We are indeed in the presence of a masterpiece.

Another mesmerising expression of relationship, more acutely on a disturbing father/daughter pairing, but it's the craft of the actors moulding the directors words and wisdom that creates a near perfect marriage made in heaven - as so many of Bergman's films do, and as such, you'll struggle to pull your eyes and ears from the conversation.

With Saraband, writer/filmmaker Ingmar Bergman closes the book, so to speak, on his life's work. It's a sequel, which could have been thwarting (why go back and do the same thing over again, one could ask). But it is the kind of sequel that bears significance. Bergman brings back two actors/friends he's worked with numerous times, Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson, and uses their characters from his film/TV series Scenes from a Marriage for a higher purpose than to rake in the bucks. He's out to bring some closure to their relationship, however not entirely based on nostalgia. This time two other characters in the film, new ones, become the centerpiece of the story. As with the majority of his works, he finds two key assets that work to his advantage behind his own personal attachment to the project- the camera/lighting, and the cast.

It may be too easy to compare and contrast this film and the series. But it is of interest if only for curiosity sake. There is something of note that revealed to one how the actual cinematography can evolve properly or at least in a fashion that is not off-putting. This time around (unlike Sven Nykvist's perfect work on 'Marriage', a kind of pre-Dogma 95 style to use the camera with the story), Bergman decided to make the film for television (his on occasion work aside from theatre for the past twenty years since Fanny and Alexander) and also decided to implement digital photography. There are five cinematographers, and it's too tedious to pick out if which one did what properly or who lit this right and so on. But that in Saraband, however, doesn't suffer by way of the digital perspective. If anything, it serves its purpose fully by keeping the naturalistic mood. Some scenes are seen with as clear an eye as ever for Bergman. Others that may be a little more obscured by darkness are affecting psychologically in a way. Bergman's preference is to look at faces and expressions, without much to obscure the actors.

What is of surprise is that Bergman injects two things that he intentionally kept out of 'Scenes'- inner visions (actually shown, not just spoken and felt by the actors), and music. In at least a couple of scenes, to add an intensity and a sense of the surreal, we see what Karina sees in some key moments. She describes an ugly incident with her father. She runs through the woods. When something very ugly occurs, it happens off screen, with a pause given in-between one scream. Needless to say it was tremendously moving. The other involved an enormous, involving fantasy. She's just been told information by her grandfather Johan that is crucial for her decision towards the end. When she sits on the stairs, the camera suddenly cuts to pull back on her on a chair, against a white background, and the camera pulls back further and further at a quick pace. This kind of technique I could feel as if I've seen in maybe a dozen films. When Bergman does this, after such a hopeful scene for Karina, it is a useful technique. Whatever the intention, it's far greater a grab then in a standard action film. Those are the two kinds of scenes/images that are very emotional and immediate on a first viewing.

Ullmann and Josephson, who portrayed Marianne and Johan thirty years ago, never lose their ability to play off each other as actors. The focal point this time is with Henrik and Karina though, so the performances by Ahlstedt and especially Dufvenius for Bergman had to be even more affecting than those of the observers. Ahlstedt's Henrik is a tricky sort to empathize with perhaps: can an audience be with him when the drama unfolds with his daughter? Turns out he brings the humanity in all its darkness and seemingly complex inner-damnation as one of Bergman's most memorable characters. His conflicts with his father and daughter stem from a number of elements, but the key one is very identifiable- death of the one you've loved the most. How can change occur? This is a question posed as well for Karina, and in Ahlstedt playing her she already shows enough talent and gusto to take on stronger roles in the future. At first sight, I thought she might have been over-hitting her mark, or that Bergman was over-directing. This was not the case, and in the subtle moments she revealed herself on the level of one of Bergman's 'ladies' (i.e. Ullmann, Bibi Andersson, and Harriet Anderson).

As the closure, what does Bergman do? He does something rather wise to weave the story of the father and daughter together with the continuing story of Johan and Marianne with an equal resonance and emotional weight. The younger two find their own ends to the means, and I would not dare reveal how and why. But for Marianne Bergman answers a question that was asked if not out-right then with all of the action and tension and buildups and payoffs in 'Marriage'. Does a person know what emotion is, or what it feels like? In the final scene (to put it mildly), he and Ullmann answer it in an approach that practically had me in tears. This would not mark the first time this has happened while viewing a Bergman film, yet the fact that this is the last gave me a cleansing feeling, of the greatest cathartic release with a thoughtful film.

If it's one of the key objectives for a filmmaker in drama and tragedy to reveal it as truthfully as possible, and bring us with the character(s) full-circle, Ingmar Bergman's pulled it off wonderfully. Saraband is one of the crucial swan songs in film history (for my money, and will soon find its way to American theaters (digital projectors more or less likely). A++

When I was a teenager, I watched "Scenes from a Marriage" which was shown on British Television during the early seventies. I became engrossed, as the unrelenting camera stared and recorded the break-up of a doomed relationship. The characters seemed hell-bent on this destruction despite themselves. It was a fascinating, harrowing series and I enjoyed it. I must have done, because I never forgot the impression it gave me. Luckily the BBC kept the original soundtrack, and the show was sent using subtitles. The drama offered in those foreign tongued, angry, desperate conversations was of the highest quality.

Now, over 30 years later, I am in my living room once more watching Johan and Marianne. Only this time I don't need subtitles, as I have since learnt Swedish. :-)

Bergman weaves a tale of vindictive dependence and of a young girl's decision to finally make her own way in life - despite some very powerful forces preventing such a move.

Marianne decides to seek out Johan, meets him and becomes involved in the tug of war over his grand-daughter's future with the girl's father, Johan's depressed son Henrik (wonderfully played by Börje Ahlstedt).

A quiet, intensive film. With an important, pivotal roll for the grand-daughter Karin played by Julia Dufvenius.

Bergman should be proud of this. It's a fine epilogue to a marvelous career in cinema and story-telling.

Bravo!

For many years "The Seventh Seal" has not only been my favorite Bergman film, but my all-time list topper. Although others have since moved into that place, Bergman's genius as a probing and revelatory filmmaker continue to astound and reward me.

"Saraband" for me is about as good as he gets...and that's high praise. Here the human soul in anguish is laid bare in all its honest need...a thwarted one...for love and understanding. A once married couple, Marianne and Johann (brilliantly portrayed by Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson) do their saraband even after 30 years apart. And like that dance, in its repetitive themes, their relationship as well as that of Johann's son and granddaughter form a kind of tragic rondo, sadly and inexorably replicated. Henrik, the 61 year old son (portrayed with amazing profoundity by Borje Ahlstedt) cannot extricate himself from the slings and arrows aimed at him continually by his father. The one character, now dead, who serves as a graceful inspiration to them all is Henrik's wife and his daughter, Karin's mother...Anna. We see her beautiful face in a photographic portrait, but her loving presence in their memory is so strong it becomes a kind of living influence. Karin, played by the stunning Julia Dufvenius, is also the victim of the family dynamic and forms the important fourth in this saraband of life and fate.

(please note - this review refers to the theatrical release, not the TV version) Veteran master Ingmar Bergman releases what he claims is his final movie. In a world dominated by blockbusters, even with a sprinkling of aspiring auteurs and masterful experimenters such as von Trier, Bergman fulfils his iconic role as setting a gold standard in cinema. For many art-house lovers, Bergman portrays what film can and should do when it is at the height of its power as an art form.

Having said that it seems a strange twist of fate to be viewing Saraband, as I did, at the Edinburgh International Film Festival where it is up for the Standard Life 'audience award', along with mainstream crowd-pleasers. As I cast my vote I felt it was almost a desecration for such a movie to be entered in a popularity poll, however discerning the audience. There are a number of serious works at the Festival and they should be judged by an independent panel of experts - there is a discussion afoot to create a new award along these lines - otherwise it is like comparing Beethoven with the Beatles.

Saraband, in true Bergman tradition, wrestles with human relationships, using a slow pace, pointed dialogue, and heavy use of symbolism to explore the psychological states of the characters. Bergman encourages young directors not to direct any film that does not have a "message," but to wait until one comes along that does, yet admits himself that he is not always sure of the message of some of his films.

We are never in any doubt that this film has much point to it, even if the point is not exactly clear. It opens with the slow soulful 'saraband', of Bach's 5th unaccompanied cello suite. 'Sarabande' is one of the movements from the suite, a slow and, compared to the others, a relatively easy piece to play. Marianne (Liv Ullman), is both narrator (at the beginning and end of the film) and principal protagonist. As she walks through the rooms of a house the doors close behind her. A cuckoo clock strikes. She is in the later part of her life. She fleetingly touches the keys of a piano, as if to say she still, even in solitude, has her inner music. Her presence is explained as she goes to the veranda and we find she is visiting an ex-husband, someone who was unfaithful to her many years ago. The colours are crisp and sharp. Of all the members of her family, Marianne is perhaps the clearest of mind and most well-balanced, but it is the extended interaction (with very little action) between the main players that give us insights into the beauty of being elderly, at least for someone like Marianne who handles it well. Yet even she is filled with sadness for others.

Later chapters of the film focus on her step-grand-daughter. Karin is a cellist, living with a rather overprotective (if that's not too mild a word) father, also a musician. She has to face a difficult choice, involving her personal loyalties, her loyalty to herself and ability as a gifted young cellist, and the need to extricate herself from a situation that is bad for her but will be bad for her father if she does.

The symbolism of the title and music neatly metaphors the decisions before her. A saraband is also a two-person dance. The suggestion, made at one point, of playing it by two people alternating is essentially a frivolous one, which serious musicians would probably reject. That the Suite for Unaccompanied Cello should not be played as a duet, even with the younger person playing the 'easier part' as Karin's father suggests, is an unobtrusive symbol reminding us, in the film's later loaded context, that there are some lines that an older and younger person should never cross together.

Saraband shows how old age can tempt us to wisdom or its opposite.

Originally shot for television in high definition video, Ingmar Bergman's latest film, Saraband, is about the reunion of a husband and wife after thirty years of divorce and separation. Divided into ten segments plus a prologue and epilogue, the title is derived from a minuet-like dance for two people commonly performed at court during the 17th and 18th centuries. Like the dance, there are never more than two people on screen at any one time and the film is almost all conversation with bits of classical music. The film is vintage Bergman with revealing close-ups, emotionally intense dialogue, an old-fashioned style of film-making, and a surfeit of bitterness about the human condition.

Liv Ullman and Erland Josephson, the original screen couple from Bergman's 1973 film Scenes of a Marriage, reunite in his summer home for their first face to face contact since their breakup. Johan has become very wealthy as a result of an inheritance. Marianne is a lawyer and they have two daughters from their failed marriage: Sara who is married to a prominent lawyer and lives in Australia and Martha who is in a mental institution and does not recognize her mother. Johan is surprised by his ex-wife's visit but they still hold hands and try to remember the good things about the past, though Johan's interest seems to be minimal. Living nearby are Henrik (Borje Ahlstedt), Johan's son from a second marriage and his daughter Karin (Julia Dufvenius), a promising young cellist. Henrik and Karin have an uncomfortably strong attachment and mutual need as a result of the recent death of Anna, Henrik's wife who was deeply loved.

Henrik is training his daughter in the cello to prepare her for an audition at the local conservatory but has to turn to Johan for financial support who uses the occasion to humiliate him. Karin is contemplating going to Europe to work for an orchestra but is afraid of the consequences for Henrik if she leaves. Relationships between the family are strained, seemingly beyond repair and their world is filled with childish resentments and regrets. Karin resents her father for suffocating her emotionally. Marianne still resents Johan for his unfaithfulness. Henrik resents his father for -- not being a father. Johan resents Henrik for not being the son he wanted. No one can see beyond their ego to feel the needs and wants of others. The emotional pain is real but I found the end result to be facile and unconvincing.

Saraband has received high praise as a "lacerating examination of life's conundrums that is exhilarating in its fearlessness and its command", and an "affective, touching, and ultimately highly affirming picture of familial turmoil and the curative, as well as destructive, powers of love." But what I ask is this - What new insights do we gain about the human condition from witnessing a family go at each other with unbridled ruthlessness? In offering his audience the latest generation of "emotional illiterates", Bergman lets us see the clawing and fighting but hides the life-affirming reality that people are capable of transcending their limitations.

In Saraband, there is no self- reflection, responsibility, or hint that people can change with the passage of time. His characters only seem to have been able to refine their capacity for collecting grievances. When Henrik is suffering, no one talks about him, goes to visit him, or seems in the least concerned. Is this the way Bergman after all these years sees human relationships? Is this the legacy he wants to leave us? Despite its considerable strengths, Sourband (sic) is a bitter and despairing film that left a bad taste in my mouth.

I am by no mean qualified to give a full range analysis of the film Saraband by Ingmar Bergman, but would like to give my personal comments.

This may be the last great film as an art genre, as opposed to film as entertainment. In the early days of film directors where trying to please a reading audience. No living director has protected this heritage better than Bergman. He can still compete with the best authors of his time.

The quietness which surrounds this film, the excellent actor performances, the long footages of close-ups of faces, the first cello sonato of Bach (Saraband), the old man who is a bit like Bergman himself; all this makes the film a masterpiece. The dialogs hold great literary quality. Bergman and his film crew are able to show people who are inactive on the outside, but active on the inside; it is quietness which speaks! There is no time for trivial dialog in the films of Bergman: Here you will find people who talk out about the great tragedies in life. The composition gives you a feeling of being in a theatre.

Bergman is a living challenge to anyone who wants to take film seriously as an art form!

From the very first frame, it's obvious Ingmar Bergman hasn't lost his touch. We're safe to settle back and give ourselves into the hands of somebody who knows how to entertain us. Liv Ulmann sets the standard for the ensemble, acting her ass off, as do the rest of the players, with only Julia Dufvenius perhaps chewing the scenery a little too much. Real cello players seldom have the time to study dance, which Dufvenius visibly has, and you could see her dreading having to fake playing the cello. But that's quibbling. She's a firecracker, and a match for anybody in this frighteningly good cast. Even Gunnel Fred, who appears fleetingly, does a little bit of business that is spot on.

Everybody in this movie excels, and yet the movie itself isn't enjoyable. The gamut of emotions is brilliantly realized, and yet that gamut runs from A to B. It is a piece by a master - a whole pack of masters, in fact - and yet it's not a masterpiece.

Worth seeing? Of course. But unless you have a formidable talent for depression, you may not enjoy it.

"Saraband" is a moving and challenging, successful return by Bergman to the quality of films of an earlier period, like "Hour of the Wolf" or of course "Scenes from a Marriage," with characters held in confessional close-ups, trapped by ego and anxiety.

With an intolerable burden of the generations, a young woman must make a choice that may be tragic. There are no useful models, not even the briefly glimpsed folk-art carving of the Last Supper with John, the beloved disciple, blissful on the lap of Jesus, not law, Kierkegaard, whiskey, or Bach either.

It is regrettable if after all these years this is Bergman's "Tempest" (though then appropriately involving Erland Josephson--all the actors are necessarily extremely good). Shakespeare did go on to work on "The Two Noble Kinsman."

SVT could have given Bergman film instead of digital recording. RAI uses film for its splendid productions, or it used to. Seen in a theatre, the visual quality was imperfect. How could people think this work would not deserve general theatrical release?

After thirty years without seeing each other, Marianne (Liv Ulmann) has a strong need to visit Johan (Erland Josephson), who is living in an isolated house that belonged to his grandparents after inheriting a fortune from a distant aunt. In the nearby cottage, Johan's son from another marriage, Henrik (Börje Ahlstedt), is living with his daughter Karin (Julia Dufvenious), after the death of his beloved wife Anna. Henrik is giving cello lessons to Karin to be admitted into a European music school and has an incestuous relationship with his daughter. Along the autumn, Marianne is involved in the troubled relationship between Johan and his son, and Henrik and his daughter.

In his last work as a director, Ingmar Bergman revisits the characters of 1973 "Scenes from a Marriage" thirty years older, with Marianne sharing the dramatic and complicated relationship of John's family. The first point that impresses in this movie is the always precise and careful direction of an 83 years old Ingmar Bergman, showing an amazing vitality and longevity in his career. I do not recall the last movie I have seen of Liv Ulmann, but this now senior actress is still fantastic. This theatrical movie is a great character study, as usual in Bergman's films, with excellent and emotional dialogs, and ends with many open issues. Why Johan and Henrik hate each other so deeply? What was written in the last page of Anna's farewell letter? I believe she knew that her husband was having an incestuous relationship with Karin. The unknown actress Julia Dufvenious is extremely beautiful and talented, and her contradictory character is also impressive. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "Saraband"

I have to say that I found this acclaimed swan-song by a great film-maker to be, at best, third-rate Bergman; even the lesser efforts from his vintage period are a good deal preferable to it – at least, they showed a real cinematic sensibility…whereas this feels merely like a piece of filmed theatre (and not a very compelling one at that!).

Anyway, the plot follows on from Bergman’s much earlier SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE (1973; which I still haven’t watched because I can’t convince myself to willfully submit to 8 hours of misery!) – but, actually, the central situation here is almost a reprise of AUTUMN SONATA (1978)...only, it’s even less appetizing! The cast list is restricted to only 4 actors; another one, talked about during the course of the film, turns up in the last scene but her dialogue-less contribution lasts barely half-a-minute. Ironically, I was more drawn in by the performances of the two ‘new’ members of the Bergman stock company of actors and especially the young Julia Dufvenius (though Borje Ahlstedt was actually featured in 6 films written by the Swedish master as well as a TV mini-series, of these the only major title which had Bergman as director was FANNY AND Alexander [1982]) rather than those of old reliables Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson. We’ve seen these two do the ‘miserable routine’ too often to have all that much impact any longer: both are merely happy to acquiesce one last time to the will of the man who made their name – even if, for 80-year old Josephson, it also means having to appear in the nude!

The film isn’t bad per se, simply too harrowing – and, for lack of a better word, unreal (surely not what Bergman intended) – to be taken seriously; I, for one, readily admit to cackling out loud at every melodramatic turn taken by the narrative or in the middle of particularly intense stretches of dialogue! Incidentally, much has been said about the inconclusive endings in the films of Michelangelo Antonioni (who, as everyone knows, died on the same day as Bergman) – what about the ending of this one, then? We never get to know whether Karin was informed of her father’s attempted suicide and whether this eventually effected her career as a musician, or even what became of him after the fact, or why Josephson is suddenly unable to reply to Ullmann’s phone calls. Ultimately, the film emerges as a singularly pointless venture – and light years away from Bergman’s best work.

Now I know what all those slow movies were trying to imitate.

I had seen a lot of movies like it, but NOT QUITE. This is one of the most flawless movie I've ever seen. A revelation -- (I had never seen an Ingmar Bergman movie before.)

The ease with which emotions are communicated through the screen is unbelievable. I have never seen anything like it. What is it that makes it so different and so memorable? Every single element in this film contributes to its general beauty, the moaning cello, the words, the eyes of the amazing actors, EVERYTHING. No superfluous scenes, no unnecessary sophistication. Bergman is a master of emotional precision.

It is just a personal opinion but just like "Talk to her" was my favourite from last year, "Saraband" is the best movie I've seen this year. I recommend that you go see it if you get the chance. Don't think. Just go. If you don't like it, it will be one more movie you didn't like. But if you don't see it you risk missing a kind of cinematic orgasm.

I feel a little mixed on what ended up being Ingmar Bergman's final film. There are good performances and some excellently written sequences, but not every scene feels dynamic or riveting in the same way that almost every section from Scenes From a Marriage did.

Speaking of, this is billed as a sequel to that film, but I think that's a tad misleading. It's a semi-sequel, giving some follow-up to the characters from the 1973 miniseries/film, but a good deal of it follows the son and granddaughter of Johansson. It was almost to the point where the uncomfortable story about a man and his inappropriate relationship with his daughter after his wife dies felt like a movie that Bergman sort of worked the Scenes From a Marriage characters into.

It focuses in on the two main characters near the end, which was good, but it also drove home how divorced (pun intended) they felt from many of the other scenes.

If I'd known what the film was about going in, I may have appreciated it more and been less shocked. That still wouldn't have helped some of the more unusual creative decisions Bergman takes with the visuals at some points- maybe he was just going for broke, because he knew this would be his final filmic statement.

"A saraband is a grave, courtly Baroque dance.."

Marianne (Liv Ullmann) and Johan (Erland Josephson), the heroes of "Scenes of a Marriage (1973), meet again after thirty years when Marianne suddenly decides to visit Johan at his old summer house. When he asked why she came, she answered that she thought he had called for her. The story of Marianne and Johan in this film provides a background for another story which involved Johan's son from his first marriage, 61 year old musician Henric and his 19 year old daughter Karin whom Henric has been giving cello lessons and dreams of her becoming a famous performer. There is one more character present in the movie, even though she's been dead for two years - Anna, late Henric's wife and Karin's mother who has been deeply missed and mourned by everyone including Johan.

This film is dedicated to Ingrid von Rosen, Bergman's last wife who died in 1995. It is her face we see at the photograph of Anna which Bergman shows over and over again. It seems to me that one of the reasons of making "Saraband" was for Bergman the chance to say to Ingrid, "I love you and I miss you and even death can't take you from me". In his last movie, Bergman sadly proves (once again) that even time can't heal the painful wounds caused by deeply-rooted hatred which is only one step away from love. How disturbing was the scene between 86 -year-old father and 61-year-old son. They looked the same age, old, grey-haired men who still cherish the hatred and contempt for each other that go way back and there is no victory in this power struggle. But there is hope in the movie for young Karin who breaks out of the world that she was forced to believe she belonged to but she did not and she found the strength to leave and to be free and to make her own decisions...

As all Bergman's films, "Saraband" does not provide the easy answers to the difficult questions; it does not provide any answers at all but as old Johan in the most moving scene of the film bares his body, Bergman bares his very soul and lets us look inside of it and maybe learn something about ourselves.

The best way to thoroughly understand the films and theories of a certain director is to view as much of their work as possible. With Ingmar Bergman, the greatest Swedish director and one of the cinema's most enigmatic figures, it is no easy task. There are so many layers and levels to his films, implying the same goes for himself. After seeing his final work as a film director, I can honestly say these past few weeks during which I viewed at least 15 of his films have been the saddest, most depressing and thoughtful weeks of my life. Never has any other filmmaker been so challenging and stimulating as the quiet, serene Swede.

In this quiet and serene work, Bergman explores even further the underlying emotions and feelings from the same characters as his great 1973 masterpiece, Scenes from a Marriage. He uses the passing of time and old age as catalysts to understand what the couple of Johan and Marianne have done since their marriage and what they continue to do now and why. A few other characters are introduced; Johan's son from another relationship, Henrik, and his daughter, Karin. These four people have much to say, particularly Johan and Marianne. Some scenes are so brutal in their depiction of raw feeling it can be hard to contemplate how someone could act so. Yet, Bergman never looks away, lingering his close-ups in order to extract as much as possible from the faces of these people.

Watching this, I had greater and deeper understanding and affection for the entire arc of Bergman's career. In many ways, my life mirrors his, thus I feel similar to life as he does. Prior to seeing films like The Seventh Seal and Cries and Whispers, I never knew another person could so exemplify what I felt about life, death and God as he did. Now I know and feel much more empowered to carry on with my own life with the knowledge he has given me. Now, he is gone and it is sad. Yet, he wouldn't dwell on that, but rather carry on with what can be done. I thank you, Ingmar, for your empowering films and will never forget how you have changed my life.

'Saraband' serves both as Ingmar Bergman's good-bye to film-making (and indeed, life itself, for he would be dead within four years, aged 89) and as a coda to his massively successful 'Scenes from a Marriage' Swedish TV drama series.

The characters of Johan and Marianne return in this film, now withered and battle-weary, and ponder their past, trying to understand why they still feel a connection many years after their divorce. Marianne even turns to the camera, asking the viewer directly if visiting her ex-husband after so many years is a mistake.

Johan and Marianne's interactions in 'Saraband' are more gentle and kind than they are in the comparatively explosive 'Scenes from a Marriage' -- no longer do they feel that they desperately need something from each other; nor do they have to argue or play games; they are open, they simply see each other as people, not as lovers, nor as opponents.

Of course, this is Bergman, so nothing is as simple as all that. Johan has a deeply damaged and bitter relationship with his son, Henrik (Börje Ahlstedt), and openly admits to him in one powerful scene that he'd have no relationship with him at all were it not for his granddaughter, Henrik's now grown-up child, Karin.

Henrik's relationship with his daughter is even more dark: both are grieving for their wife and mother who died several years previously and the two have a power/guilt relationship wrapped up in that grief and loneliness; and not unlike in Bergman's 'The Silence', incest is implied, but -- with the exception of one kiss that becomes sexual -- is never explicitly confirmed. Börje Ahlstedt is tremendous in the role.

You almost feel that Marianne and Johan take a backseat to the 'real' story, which is that of Henrik and his daughter -- perhaps Bergman wrote the popular characters into a new story that he was more interested in, understanding the great interest in 'whatever happened to Marianne and Johan'? Because of this, Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson don't have a great deal to work with -- certainly a lot less than they had in the lengthy TV series -- but what they do have is very strong.

The most moving scene in the film is when, after a disturbing development involving Johan's son, Marianne and Johan share a bed together naked, for the first time in many years. Josepheon is shown entirely naked at the age of 80, which is extremely brave acting.

'Saraband' is not at the high level of quality of some of Ingmar Bergman's late-career classics, such as the experimental and underrated 'From the Life of the Marionettes', the crushing 'Autumn Sonata' or the internationally celebrated 'Fanny and Alexander', but it is a very fine conclusion to the career of one of the all-time greats.

And perhaps Bergman had finally come to terms with his existential relationship with God (or the idea of Him): in one scene, Liv Ullmann visits a church, and after a conversion with Henrik that becomes confrontational, stands up facing the altar and looks at an image of Christ, gripping her hands tightly in prayer.

"Saraband" is another one of those Bergman movies which, it seems, could all be fittingly entitled like that other movie of his, "Through a Glass Darkly". Making things perfectly clear, once considered an essential element of a successful literary creation, is by Bergman intentionally and carefully avoided. The story is simple: An old, long-divorced couple (Marianne and Johan) meets again; and Johan's son Henrik from another marriage, recently widowed, and their daughter Karin live nearby. A simple story of essentially four people, but oh so dark and contradictory are the feelings between them. Johan hates his son, for reasons we never learn. Yes, cash-strapped Henrik needs to ask his rich father time and again for an "advance on his inheritance", but this could not quite explain the father's disdain. Henrik the musician drills Karin on the cello and loves her madly, but won't let her move to a decent music school for her further education. Now this may not be quite so puzzling as it first appears when we learn in passing that they both sleep in the same bed, an arrangement none of the other two people on hand seem to perceive as unusual. While this tidbit may further Sweden's alluring reputation, the casual acceptance of this matter is in fact quite unrealistic, as this reviewer was assured by a reliable Swedish source (who even mentioned "jail"!) Karin's mother Anna, on her deathbed, may have had a hunch that something like this was in the wings, but again, we don't learn for sure, since Karin won't read to Marianne (and hence to us) the last page of her mother's farewell letter (which masterful move, incidentally, spared Bergman the writing of it).

We can't quite figure out what Karin's notion is about her domestic setup - does she hate the sex but loves daddy otherwise (whom she calls "Henrik", isn't' that cool?), or does she really only hate the daily cello drills (since she just wants to play in an orchestra rather than train to be a soloist, as we hear in her great emotional outburst)? Well, when she finally tells the old man that she's going to split, he attempts suicide. Of course, we can't be sure if it's successful. But hold it - taking all clues, there is a finite probability that it was not. Ah, now, will that persuade Karin to come back? What do you think this is, a documentary? That's the final mystery!

No, wait, there is one more: Marianne lets us know that she has a definite opinion about this whole affair. But she won't tell.

Some tedious writing avoided again!

Surely, Bergman smiled all the way to the bank.