The NYT got premiere-Bergman-acolyte Woody Allen to write up a piece on Ingmar Bergman's death; I especially appreciated this bit:
"To meet him was not to suddenly enter the creative temple of a formidable, intimidating, dark and brooding genius who intoned complex insights with a Swedish accent about man’s dreadful fate in a bleak universe. It was more like this: “Woody, I have this silly dream where I show up on the set to make a film and I can’t figure out where to put the camera; the point is, I know I am pretty good at it and I have been doing it for years. You ever have those nervous dreams?” or “You think it will be interesting to make a movie where the camera never moves an inch and the actors just enter and exit frame? Or would people just laugh at me?”.
What does one say on the phone to a genius? I didn’t think it was a good idea, but in his hands I guess it would have turned out to be something special. After all, the vocabulary he invented to probe the psychological depths of actors also would have sounded preposterous to those who learn filmmaking in the orthodox manner. In film school (I was thrown out of New York University quite rapidly when I was a film major there in the 1950s) the emphasis was always on movement. These are moving pictures, students were taught, and the camera should move. And the teachers were right. But Bergman would put the camera on Liv Ullmann’s face or Bibi Andersson’s face and leave it there and it wouldn’t budge and time passed and more time and an odd and wonderful thing unique to his brilliance would happen. One would get sucked into the character and one was not bored but thrilled."
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There's just no one like Bergman-his movies, so graceful and elegant and poised, are each their own creation and part of a constantly weaving story arc that seemed to link each of his movies together. How many other directors have attempted to create such an impressive body of work, much less modern directors? I can recall the first Bergman I saw, Wild Strawberries, the complete and utter awe I felt during the Dali-esque dream sequence. It was as if I'd been pulled onto the screen and was watching the dream sequence alongside Victor Sjostrom.
Speaking of dreams, in a total random tangent, I had the weirdest hybrid dream that managed to combine three Alfonso Cuaron films at once (Harry Potter 3, Children of Men, and Y Tu Mama Tambient); suffice it to say my subconscious is more creative than I am.
So... Harry and Ron made out with each other and Hermione gave birth to the first baby born in years?
Sirius was in the Clive Owen role, Voldemort had stopped the world from having children, halfway through Sirius dies, and Gael Garcia Bernal, Diego Luna, and Daniel Radcliffe took Claire-Hope Ashitay road-tripping to the "Tomorrow" (and of course Bernal, Luna, and Radcliffe ended up making out). It was totally bizarre, and wonderful at the same time. I'll have to try eating pizza before bed again sometime soon (perhaps I'll get an Ang Lee hybrid next: Heath Ledger and Kate Winslet learn swordsmanship, while Jake Gyllenhaal and Eric Bana must shack up in a tent in order for Bana to suppress his Hulk-like rages).
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