Ingmar Bergman Winter Survival Series: Winter Light (1963)
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WE’RE ON THE CUSP of a new year.
Time to dip into the next film of the Ingmar Bergman Winter Survival Series!
Final Thoughts on Fanny and Alexander: “Människor ska tycka synd om”
It would be wonderful to return to some of the gender and sexual morality questions of Fanny and Alexander, and maybe we can do that when we get to the third film in the series, The Virgin Spring.
For now, I’m going to wrap up with what interested me most when I first saw Fanny and Alexander (long, long ago) and it occurred to me watching it again this December.
Alexander is the young Bergman. No doubt in my mind.
But the older Bergman might’ve been curious about what was going through his boyish mind. What were the nascent thoughts of a young artist? What role did theater and religion play in his upbringing and how he expresses it in this film? And why did he choose August Strindberg’s A Dream Play (1901) as the theatrical prod to get Grandmother Helena out of retirement and back on the stage?
If you revisit the opening “magical realism” scene where Alexander falls asleep under the dining room table, only to awaken and see the statue beckoning him, your first thought is “Well, that’s odd.” Was it real? Was he dreaming? Does it matter?
Yeah, I think it does matter and why, later, Emilie hands her mother-in-law Helena the script for Strindberg’s “new” play.
The magical realism doesn’t return until late in the second act, when Uncle Isak comes to steal the children away from the Bishop’s house using persuasion and, well…magic.
Safe at Uncle Isak’s place, Alexander is introduced to “cousins” Aron and Ishmael.
On a walkabout through Isak’s curiosity shop to relieve himself, he stumbles on Aron sleeping and is met with the ghost of his father, who admonishes Alexander to turn away from the hatred in his heart.
Moments later Alexander is terrified by Aron’s puppets, who magically seem to include the thunderous voice of God Almighty Himself—only to discover it’s Aron who had been awakened by Alexander’s roaming.
Aron leads Alexander to Ishmael, the sexually ambiguous “brother” who is so dangerous he must be kept imprisoned in the shop under lock and key. As Aron brings Ishmael supper, Ishmael demands time with Alexander—alone, imprisoned with him—and this, I think, is the crux of Alexander’s artistic awakening.
Ishmael knows who he is—they, Ishmael claims, are one and the same.
How can this be?
Is it another magic trick being played on us? Is Ishmael really dangerous? Is Alexander dangerous? Is the artist in society dangerous? What does that even mean?
Well, what do you think? How much power do artists wield? Does it depend on theaters to perform their plays, publishers to print their words, galleries to display their canvasses and sculptures?
“Uncle Isak says we’re surrounded by different realities, one on top of the other.”
Alexander’s moment with Ishmael smolders as, far off, in another part of the city, the Bishop and his family meet their fiery end. Ishmael undresses Alexander and Bergman cuts away to the stark household where Alexander, his sister, and his mother were imprisoned … and the Bishop, soporific after given an overdose by Emilie, dies in agony from a fire caused by his aunt.
Fanny and Alexander, in short order, becomes a horror film.
So, I got curious. Why A Dream Play at the end? I’m sure there’s some further research I could do in Bergman biographies, but I picked up a copy of Strindberg’s play and—truth told, I couldn’t finish it. It’s got a cast of thousands and a narrative as dense as an overstuffed Christmas pudding.
But this leapt out at me, spoken by the Mother character:
“Ah, this life! If you do something good, someone else is sure to think it bad; if you are kind to one person, you’re sure to harm another. Ah, this life!” as the Daughter replies: “Human beings are to be pitied.”
Or, in Swedish: “Människor ska tycka synd om.” It’s a line that reminds me of the despairing Carl, youngest brother of the Ekdahl family and bane to his mother Helena. “Ah, this life!” Is belief in one plane of existence a death sentence? Maybe if you’re only looking at it from the human angle.
As Aron tells Alexander before they meet Ishmael, “Uncle Isak says we’re surrounded by different realities, one on top of the other.”
This, I think, is the core lesson of Alexander’s new education.
I hope he remembers it.
Maybe the rest of us too?
Up next! Winter Light (1963) and the ground rules and best practices for the rest of the series…
Ground rules for the series
The film schedule below will not change, so you’re free to watch them any time and in any order you wish. I decided to start with Fanny and Alexander because it’s a favorite “holiday” film (though the pleasure of that is the blink of an eye given the rest of the narrative—a lot like life IMHO).
Since participants (free subscribers and followers welcome!) are all over the globe, the “Chat Deadline” listed below is actually the cut-off before we get rolling on the next film to watch and discuss. I will leave a three-hour window for that on the date posted, and participants will always be free to post comments on the particular chat thread for that film, or back here on the StoryShed newsletter site, with the newsletter post pertaining to the film.
I’ll eventually put up a mini-essay to jump start discussion, but in all honesty, I’m more interested and curious about your takes than my own. I never know what I think about things until I’ve written them down and changed my mind a couple dozen times. That’s just how I roll.
Here’s the schedule for the rest of the films in the series:
Fanny and Alexander (New Chat deadline: December 31, 2024, 10am - 1pm CST)
Winter Light (Chat Deadline: Sunday, January 5, 2025)
The Virgin Spring (TBD, early February 2025)
Wild Strawberries (TBD, late February 2025)
The Seventh Seal (TBD, March 2025)
Outside of that, feel free to comment below and we’ll move on to Winter Light.
Best practices on Chat and commenting
I’m open to modifying for the greater enjoyment of everyone involved (if people want to do a Zoom chat, we can arrange it) but dropping comments and visiting the Substack Chat seem like the best way to go here, and not punitive to everyone’s time and attention.
If you enjoy movies and great storytelling, Bergman will not let you down.
Happy holidays and happy new year!
See you next month.
Brock Eldon has a long-form post coming about Fanny and Alexander that I'm itching to read. I hope he links it here, but if you've seen the film, comments welcome here too (no bots, please).