Thirst

The early Bergman films are interesting in how they portray an artist evolving with increased experience. They're not always successful artistic endeavors overall, but they show how a studio system can foster and hone talent through experience.

Thirst tells the story of a young married couple on their way back from a vacation in Italy. We see them in France as they are about to board a train through 1946 Germany back towards Sweden. The woman is haunted by a previous affair and a subsequent abortion all while she nurses a bad knee in the hopes that one day she will dance ballet again. The husband is a penny pinching academic obsessed with coins and who had had an affair with another woman out of, what he calls, pity for her status as a widow. None of this is a secret, all of the sins are out in the open.

The two have the kind of talks typical in Bergman films (in particular his later, post-existential films like Scenes from a Marriage) and come to the conclusion that they should reconcile their differences and try to work through their problems to a happy marriage in the film's final moments.

The problem with the movie is its structure. This could be a case study in a poorly structured story pretty much killing a film. The first twenty minutes are dedicated to flashbacks to the wife's affair with a lieutenant in the Swedish military before we ever meet the husband. The husband's lover is first mentioned about thirty minutes into the movie, and she is introduced a few minutes later in a scene with her cruel psychologist. She then disappears for a half hour. There's also the wife's old dancing friend who appears in another flashback and then shows up with the husband's former lover, trying to seduce her which ends up leading to the lover's suicide.

The problem isn't the events themselves, but the fact that they are bunched together without any real effort to weave it in and out of the other threads. As typical, I read the essay in the Criterion Collection's large book and was unsurprised to discover that the script (which Bergman didn't write) was based on a series of short stories. Considering my issues with the film's structure, it made perfect sense. It felt very staccato with one story going through its beginning, middle, and end before another one took over. It's not quite that, but, especially considering the initial twenty minutes with the wife's lover, it feels very apropos.

I do think that if the movie had been re-arranged it would have worked better. I don't think it's something that purely an editing job would have done. At least some of it would have needed to originate at the script. The husband's lover needed at least one more scene to flesh her out for instance (her first scene with the psychologist is highly emotionally delivered and feels out of place because we had never met her before).

Stylistically, the movie feels very Bergman. The topics he loved are there (the marriage, even the dancer is a performer that he frequently featured). His visual style sometimes feel a little more active than normal, but we clearly see his visual tics such as two people in frame talking to each other, letting actors demonstrate who they are through long exposures to their smaller actions, and strong performances throughout. I just wish the story had been arranged in a way that made sense.

I thought I had seen every Bergman film ever made, so I was thrilled to stumble onto this one the week after he died. I had no trouble following the intertwining stories because I kept track of the characters' names and their relationships. So what confused many viewers seemed totally justified, especially compared to films in our post-Altmam era where more and more we see "stories" where seemingly unconnected people's lives crisscross and are junxtaposed ("Magnolia," and "Babel" to name a few).

The filming is fantastic for the time and prefigures the use of close ups in "Through a Glass Darkly." Very different from "Port of Call" just before and "To Joy" just afterwards. I found the film less bleak than "Prison," its lyrical moments prefiguring "Summer Interlude," one of my favorite early Bergmans.

The lesbianism was blatant enough for me, much more obvious than in "Young Man With A Horn," made around the same time in the US. Curiously, this section of the film helped illuminate Bergman's use of the theme in "The Silence," and this makes me want to view that film again. The fact that this is a film Bergman didn't write is intriguing, because he harmonizes his visual language to the rhythms of the screenwriter's oral one. The dialog was rather light for the seriousness of the situations. Perhaps Bergman himself would have been heavier-handed.

Lastly, there are the actresses, and here Bergman's direction of actors seems to solidify, as I find his previous films much more uneven on this score. Here the women, especially the young dancer, show real depth.

Keep in mind that this is not his first film, but still an early work, a seed that will grow into later masterpieces. Then you won't be disappointed, even after the mediocre last minutes of a work that definitely showed promise.

True, the movie has got a few flaws, mostly in the construction; the structure lacks necessity and the flashbacks appear a bit randomly, it seems. However, the essential Bergman is already present (it's 1949): a few absolutely superb close-ups on the main characters' faces, the way people suddenly appear on camera, from unexpected angles, etc. And Bergman is already displaying some of the themes he will use constantly : the train travel, war and ruins as a background for difficult relationships, plus of course the impossibility and at the same time the inevitability of the relationship between man and woman : it's doomed, but there's no other way... In fact, the French title is "La fontaine d'Aréthuse", which points to this very idea. Precisely, I'd like to discuss another point : the original title is "Thirst". And in fact, people in the movie drink a lot : wine, beer, milk, or fail to drink : in a dramatic moment, one character refuses to drink coffee, tea is prepared, but doesn't taste good. I believe people never drink water, but water (the sea) is the backdrop for the happiest moment of the movie and the most desperate (with the suggestion of a suicide). For Bergman, I believe, Man is essentially thirsty, is desperately thirsty for something to calm and comfort him. But the world is hostile, relationships can offer only brief moments of satisfaction on a backdrop of tension and pain. Other comments on this title ? Very interesting movie overall.

Bergman is beginning to develop some of his personal traits to be found in the later, more mature film. He hasn't yet learned to unveil the characters quite yet but the interactions are quite interesting. There are several stories going on here and a couple of groups of characters and sometimes the switching back and forth can be confusing. I would certainly agree with one reviewer that "thirst" was used not only metaphorically throughout but quite literally from the first image of an eddy of water during the credits to the very end. The characters are always drinking something or other - water (it's midsummer after all), wine(one of the characters is an alcoholic), even milk. The characters are actually quite self-centered, as in so many of Bergman's earliest films, and not particularly likable. The scene with the "therapist" was especially disturbing and the characters seem more prone to bounce off each other than anything. It's when they start to communicate that the trouble really begins to brew as we've learned from the later films.

Curtis Stotlar

Raul's a dislikeable chap, gets the feeling that he's being trapped, in the blink of an eye, it's adios, goodbye, marches off vowing not to come back.

Ruth is quite high maintenance, takes everything that you can dispense, she'd turn you to a husk, grinding you down to dust, at her mercy without strong defence.

Bertil's nightmare hasn't come true, the bottle he threw he withdrew, a small recompense, brings him back to sense, but next time he might not wake to two.

Valborg plays life solitaire, her secret her shame not to share, though with Eva she tries, it all ends in surprise, back to solitude with no one to care.

Eva is lost all alone, a vulnerable hand she's been sown, now she's starting to fade, as she tries to evade, cascades to the depths as if blown.

Several intertwined strands reflect the frailties, the ignorance and the disappointments we've all encountered at some time or another - although hopefully with a little less melodrama.