Bergman Island, 2021
Written and Directed by Mia Hansen-Løve.
Starring Tim Roth, Vicky Krieps, Mia Wasikowska, Anders Danielsen Lie, Wouter Hendrickx, Joel Spira, Clara Strauch, Hampus Nordenson, Anki Larsson, Kerstin Brunnberg, Melinda Kinnaman, and Stig Björkman.
SYNOPSIS:
A couple retreat to the island that inspired Ingmar Bergman to write screenplays for their upcoming films when the lines between reality and fiction start to blur.
I must confess that I’m not firmly familiar with the work of Ingmar Bergman (I can almost hear the stampede of people trying to take my cinephile card away, to which my only response is sometimes even legends can be an occasional blind spot, especially for someone that was transitioning into a teenager when he died). It’s also something I need to rectify because it’s clear his unabashedly cynical style would click with me. Nevertheless, I have seen The Seventh Seal, which, funny enough, the central couple Bergman Island centers on hate. However, one doesn’t need to be a Bergman stan, so to speak (although plenty of those do exist on the island, which might as well be an amusement park given that there are already Bergman safari rides touring through notable landmarks of films he shot on the Swedish island), to be moved or grasp a deeper meaning to writer and director Mia Hansen-Løve’s multilayered, multi-narrative, intricate relationship study.
It begins with independent filmmakers Tony and Chris (Tim Roth and Vicky Krieps, respectively) starting their vacation (which doubles as a search for artistic inspiration) and heading into the Fårö summer resort, functioning as a museum for Ingmar Bergman. It’s populated with his private screening room, homes (including the one where Scenes From a Marriage was shot, providing the release of this film a bit more timeliness considering the ongoing remake starring Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain), student film centers, libraries, and various tourist attractions such as beaches. At one point, Chris comes into contact with someone who has never even heard of Ingmar Bergman, illustrating that beyond the island’s history is still a supremely gorgeous and serene haven.
It’s not necessarily a surprise, but Mia Hansen-Løve is also not here to gush over a cinematic icon. Plenty of characters do, including Tony, who seems to agree that it was okay for Bergman to be a lousy husband and father and all-around terrible idol since it was vital for crafting his beloved art. Naturally, Chris is, in addition to being stuck in a rut artistically, conflicted on how to feel. As a mother herself, she naturally has a different perspective, and because of those motherly duties, she appears to have been afforded less time and opportunities to achieve the same success as Tony. The same goes for Mia Hansen-Løve as a filmmaker, presumably once a part of a similar artistically stifling marriage, having been married to Olivier Assayas, which is undoubtedly being pulled from as inspiration for the character dynamics on display. That said, she currently has a fantastic filmmaking career right now with, hopefully, no signs of stopping.
Certainly irritated, Chris also walks out on a Q&A Tony is taking part for one of his own movies, eventually coming across film student Hampus (Hampus Nordenson), where one thing leads to something a tad flirtatious. By this point, there are already enough signs that the marriage is not perfect. Still, Bergman Island is not the kind of movie focusing on a hostile breakup. There is a subtle deterioration at most, but the couple seems to have a stable bond to work through any complications that arise.
Similar to interrogating aspects of Ingmar Bergman’s personal life rather than obsessive praise, Mia Hansen-Løve has other, far more intriguing ideas for further praying into the relationship dynamics at play. Essentially, the unsmooth waves of marriage and island experience foster enough creativity to overcome Chris’ writer’s block, taking us into a movie within a movie (or scenes within scenes from a marriage, if you will) centered on Amy (Mia Wasikowska) still madly in love with her high school sweetheart Joseph (Anders Danielsen Lie). They are reconnecting at a mutual friend’s wedding (someone that calls out Ingmar Bergman’s personal failings, showing that Chris is working out conflicted feelings towards artistic male egos that get a pass because of their work). Whether the love is meant to represent the love on hand everyone has for Bergman is up for debate, but taken at face value, the story is softly passionate and tenderly emotional.
There’s also one final reveal that folds the narrative of Bergman Island in on itself once more; it’s something that would have felt cheap in other movies, but here feels meaningfully constructed. Mia Hansen-Løv has a handle on the bigger picture, even if for everyone else that might require another viewing or some more Ingmar Bergman knowledge. Most importantly, Bergman Island works on multiple wavelengths just as its narrative likewise operates on different planes; it’s terrific as a study of female writers carving out a reputation in the male-dominated industry, a relationship drama, a challenging assessment of Bergman separating art from the artist, and a fascinating piece of cinematic education. It sets itself up to go one way before transforming not once but twice, with characters difficult to label and pinpoint.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
Originally published October 15, 2021. Updated October 14, 2021.
