Nominated for Best Picture of 1973, Cries and Whispers is one of the rare foreign language films to be nominated for the top prize. It's one of Ingmar Bergman's most powerful movies. The story is relatively simple to summarize, I suppose. Two sisters, Karin and Maria, come to their family home to watch over their dying sister Agnes. However, the film is about much more than that simple plot description might suggest. This is an intensely painful film to watch, and it moves at a glacial pace, but it is very much worth the time and the energy.
It starts in a rather audacious way: a series of images, including several clocks. Almost 10 minutes pass before any character speaks, but the concept of the passage of time has already been prioritized. A series of flashbacks, usually signaled by a close-up of the face of one of the actresses, reveal defining moments in their past. And each moment is heartwrenching. The one that everyone focuses upon, of course, is Karin's self-mutilation. I don't really know that I could explain why she does it, except perhaps as a way to feel something, anything, in the sterile environment in which she has become trapped. So rarely does she express emotions that it almost seems like a relief to her to feel such pain. It's a powerful, uncomfortable scene, but the movie is filled with such discomfort. That's not to suggest that it isn't also a fascinating movie; it is quite spellbinding. You are drawn into the lives of these women, and you try to understand the source of such enormous pain felt by them all.
This is a film about guilt and shame. It's about regrets and reconciliations. It's about the ways that we treat each other, both good and bad. It's about the responsibilities that we have to each other and the resentments we often have about those responsibilities. It's about isolation and about community. It requires...no, demands (as do many Bergman films) your attention.
I was particularly intrigued by his use of the color red throughout the film. It's there in Karin's blood, of course, but it's also the color of the walls in several rooms of the house. And rather than fades to black or white, scene changes are often indicated by fades to red. Perhaps he's trying to suggest something about the links we share through our blood lines, about the genetics we have in common. Perhaps it's a commentary on the anger which too often fills our lives, red being the color most often associated with that emotion. I suppose that is one of the treasures of a Bergman film, that ability to discuss what it all means. It was one of his greatest talents as a filmmaker.
I also think this film is a statement about women and the emotions they must carry. All of the male characters are minor, and none of them are particularly appealing. You wonder why these women married or fell in love with such unattractive people. Perhaps it was Bergman's way of placing the emphasis instead on female bonds. Certainly, the women are more complex and more interesting. And the performances, though at times enigmatic (just as the script might have dictated), are all stellar. Kari Sylwan gives an almost silent performance as Anna, the maid. In fact, much of the movie is built upon silences, and she conveys a great deal of emotion with merely her face or the way she carries her body. Liv Ullman plays Maria, and she brings her usual craftsmanship to the part; as in several other Bergman films, she shares screen time with equally talented women (think Persona, for example) and more than holds her own. Harriet Andersson plays Agnes with such a level of ferocity that it's difficult to watch her writhe in pain, but it's equally difficult to turn away from her at those same moments. The standout for me, though, is Ingrid Thulin as Karin. She brings such a depth to the range of emotions she must convey, and she is able to do so with such tiny gestures or facial expressions. It's a stunning performance from an actress apparently little known outside of Europe.
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