Classic 60s Movie: “Persona”
January is Classic 60s Movie month. Today’s guest post comes from James Prichard.
Movie Title: Persona
Year: 1966
Writer: Ingmar Bergman
Lead Actors: Bibi Andersson (Alma), Liv Ullmann (Elisabet)
Director: Ingmar Bergman
IMDb Plot Summary: After she is put in charge of caring for an actress who stopped talking, a nurse finds that her persona is melding with that of the actress.
Why I Think This Is A Classic 60s Movie: Bergman out-Bergmanned himself with the highly influential and dream-like Persona. It contains many of the starkly iconic images associated with his work and has been interpreted as everything from a psychological drama to a modernist horror flick. The movie is filled with many of the devices — symbolism, shock cuts, intensive close-ups, long periods without dialogue — found in other major films of the decade.
My Favorite Moment In The Movie: Some of the most fascinating scenes ever filmed contain no dialogue, like this one: During an afternoon at the isolated seaside summer home where the nurse, Alma, is looking after the actress, Elisabet, Alma accidentally drops and breaks a drinking glass on the patio. Alma fetches a broom and sweeps up most of the mess but, because she is starting to psychologically break down, she maliciously leaves a large glass shard for Elisabet to step on. Moments later, a barefoot Elisabet steps out of the house and onto the patio. She unwittingly steps over the broken piece of glass a couple of times. At this point, Alma goes back inside the house just before Elisabet walks by a third time, when she finally steps on the glass and utters a brief cry.
My Favorite Dialogue In the Movie: An explanation, if I may. Part of the reason this is my favorite bit of dialogue (it’s a monologue, really) in Persona is that it’s repeated a second time. The first time Alma delivers it, the camera stays locked on Elisabet’s face as she listens to the nurse’s harsh comments, and her face goes through a series of pained expressions. Then the scene abruptly starts over, only with the lens remaining fixed on Alma as she unloads on Elisabet.
Alma: What have you got there? What are you hiding under your hand? Let me see. It’s the picture of your little boy, the one you tore up. We have to talk about this. Tell me now, Elisabet.
(There is a pause as Elisabet says nothing.)
Alma: Then I will. It was at a party one night, wasn’t it? It was late, and the party was quite rowdy. Toward morning someone in the group said to you, “Elisabet, you have practically everything as a woman and as an artist, but you lack motherliness.” You laughed, thinking it was ridiculous, but you found yourself thinking about what he’d said. You grew more and more worried, so you let your husband get you pregnant. You wanted to be a mother. When you knew it was definite, you became afraid — afraid of responsibility, of being tied down, of leaving the theater behind, afraid of pain, afraid of dying, afraid of your body that was swelling up. But you played the part the whole time, the part of the young, happy, expectant mother. Everyone said, “Isn’t she beautiful now? She’s never been so beautiful.” Meanwhile you tried several times to abort. But you failed. When you realized it was inevitable, you began to hate the baby and hoped it would be stillborn. You hoped the baby would be dead. You wanted a dead baby. It was a long and difficult delivery. You were in agony for days. The baby was finally delivered with forceps. You looked with disgust at your squealing child and whispered, “Can’t you just die? Can’t you die?” But he survived. The boy cried day and night, and you hated him. You were afraid. You had a guilty conscience. In the end, some relatives and a nanny took care of the boy, and you could leave your sickbed and return to the theater. But the suffering wasn’t over. The boy was seized by a vast, unfathomable love for his mother. You resist. You resist desperately, because you feel you can’t return that love. You try and try, but your encounters with him are cruel and awkward. You can’t do it. You’re cold and indifferent. And he looks at you. He loves you, and he’s so soft, and you want to hit him for not leaving you alone. You find him repulsive with his thick lips and ugly body and his moist, pleading eyes. You find him repulsive, and you’re afraid.
Key Things You Should Look For When Watching This Movie:
— The famous opening sequence begins with a film projector firing up and illuminating dozens of short, unrelated clips before getting into the story. Without giving too much away, I’ll just say it gets your attention.
— After Elisabet steps on the glass shard and her foot begins to bleed, the film seems to break apart. When it “resumes,” a blurred lens follows Elisabet in the house for a few moments until the image quickly focuses on her looking out a window.
— Another breaking-the-fourth-wall moment occurs near the end, when the camera pulls back from the women to reveal Bergman and his crew filming them.
— Prepare to be amazed by the imagery evoked by some of the dialogue, including Alma’s remarkably graphic (for 1966) description of her sexual adventure on a beach.
— Even Bergman haters will enjoy Persona’s gorgeous black-and-white cinematography by the legendary Sven Nykvist. Truly vacker!
Thanks, James! To show our gratitude for your guest post, here’s a dash of creative juju for you. Whoosh!
Twitter: @James_Prichard.
We already have a set of classic 70s movies, 80s Movies and 90s Movies. This month, we’re working on 60s Movies.
We have 23 volunteers. I have put in bold those who have already sent their guest post to me.
Ipsita Barik — Rosemary’s Baby
Bookman Film — The Sound of Music
Brandnewusedcar — Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Markham Cook — Jules et Jim
Steve Cook — The Blue Max
N D — Lonely are the Brave
Drew Dorenfest — Easy Rider
Felicity Flesher — The Music Man
JasperLamarCrab — 2001: A Space Odyssey
D.L. Gill — Zulu
Jeff Guenther — Cool Hand Luke
Kate Hagen — Repulsion
John Henderson — Night of the Living Dead
John Henderson — The Odd Couple
hoernsch — The Graduate
Zach Jansen — They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?
Will King — The Pink Panther
Lisaisfunny — Blow Up
Jack McDonald — Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Daryl Powell — The Apartment
jprichard — Persona
Liz Warner — The Manchurian Candidate
Michael Waters — Dr. No
I’m looking for more guest posts to take us through January. Why not pitch in to help add to this online resource to inspire writers to learn about and — most importantly — watch great movies.
If you have a classic 60s movies on which you’d like to do a writeup, please either post in comments or email me.
And for those who have signed up, but have yet to email me your post, please do so ASAP.
Thanks in advance!
For the original post explaining the series, go here.
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