I have had conversations with people I know who are atheists, where they have questioned why I believe in something that science says doesn’t exist and which there is no tangible evidence of. Their assessment seems to be that if it cannot be proven, then it doesn’t exist. My response back has always been with a question: “What am I out for by believing? If I die and that is it, nothing more, then what have I lost by believing? I have lived a life filled with hope and faith in something beyond this mortal existence. I would rather die with this hope and be wrong than to be right and live my life in despair.” Ingmar Bergman, the great Swedish director, was an atheist, yet in his final days, he looked forward to seeing his wife, who had predeceased him, again. His irrational hope was that he was wrong and that there was life after this one. These conflicting feelings of hope and despair are just some of the layers that make up many of his best works, including his Oscar-nominated film Cries and Whispers.
There is often a search, be it mental, physical, or spiritual, for meaning in suffering. For the religious, there can be the tendency to assume a person is afflicted because of some sin they committed or because God is testing them like he did Job. When a person dies young and tragically, you often hear the words uttered, “It was God’s will,” as if this mantra will ease the suffering of those who are left behind to continue on with life. This pain is even worse when the person dying is leaving behind unresolved familial trauma or guilt, ignored or repressed by the leftover members who either block those emotions or pretend they do not exist. Ingmar envisioned this scenario based on a vision of his mother’s of four women in a red room. Indeed, when crafting his film, Bergman would heavily use saturating colors, specifically crimson, as a visual motif for the emotional agonies these women are burdened with, much of which is of their own doing and not circumstantial.
Cries and Whispers tells the story of four women, three of whom are sisters; the fourth is an outsider, treated as such by two of the three. First is Agnes (Harriet Andersson), who resides in their childhood home. Agnes is dying from uterine cancer, a condition she has been suffering from for about twelve years. As the disease is ravaging her body, her two sisters have come to visit and help take care of her during her final days. The first of these is Maria (Liv Ullmann). Maria struggled with a bad marriage that debilitated her when she had an affair with Agnes’s doctor, David (Erland Josephson). When this affair was found out, her husband, Joakim (Henning Moritzen), attempted suicide by stabbing himself, only to call out for her help as he was bleeding out. Instead, she turned her back on him, leaving him to suffer.
The other sister is Karin (Ingrid Thulin). Karin is cold and emotionless, distant with everyone, including her siblings. She refuses to be touched and shows no feeling of any kind when others try to get close to her. We see in flashback a moment in the past when she intentionally mutilated her genitals with a piece of broken glass to stave off any physical intimacy with her husband and we get the sense that there was no physical love between those two going forward. She is repressed and bitter, and that façade never cracks until nearly the end of the film, only to be completely rebuilt as if it never happened. When it does crack and she and Maria have some sort of emotional conversation, we are not privy to what is being said. Instead, we can see their faces, windows to the soul according to Bergman, but the sound is muted.
The final woman in the picture is Anna (Kari Sylwan), the maid and companion of Agnes. Anna has been a longtime companion of Agnes, and there is some suggestion that they may have even been lovers. Indeed, when Anne watches over Agnes at night, whenever Agnes is in pain and restless, Anna removes her shirt and holds Agnes to her breast to comfort her and ease her into sleep. Anna is regarded by Maria and Karin as an outsider, not part of the family, and they treat her as such, talking harshly about her when she is within earshot and are quick to dismiss her. Anna is the heart of the group, though. She lost her own daughter at some point in the past and often spends time praying for her as well as for Agnes.
There are films that are designed to entertain, and there are films that are there for you to watch and ponder the deeper meanings behind them. The two types are not exclusive of each other, and the best types of films are the ones that effectively do both. Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers is a great film about ideas and characters. A lot, both spiritually and emotionally, can be read into what is on display here. The use of red is used to denote the soul, often being used instead of a traditional fade to black when dealing with the many flashbacks. The color also permeates the color scheme of the house Agnes and Anna live in. It’s on the walls, the carpet, the drapes, and more. Ingmar goes overboard with the color, only leaving it on the wayside during a couple of brief moments that take place in the outdoors amongst the vivid green grass.
There is a lot of religious iconography at play, too. In one startling moment after Agnes has succumbed to her illness, there is a dream sequence where Anna sees that Agnes has been resurrected and is asking to see each of her sisters in turn. The sisters react violently to seeing her alive again and the moment is culminated by Anna herself gathering Agnes in her arms and returning her to her bed. The moment is capped with imagery that mirrors Michelangelo’s Pietà, a sculpture of Jesus and Mary at Mount Golgotha representing the “Sixth Sorrow.” Overseeing her funeral is a Catholic priest who begins the service in a rather generic way, as if it is just a job to him, but afterwards, he confides that he often sat and talked with the sick woman and that she had even more faith than he.
This is a film riddled with symbology and secret undertones and has inspired thousands of articles dissecting all the hidden meanings behind Bergman’s picture. Unfortunately, it is not an enjoyable watch, though. It’s a fascinating watch, and it is never boring, but it is also uncomfortable and depressing more often than not, and not just because of the underlying story of death. These are four women who are all broken in one way or another, and, especially with Maria and Karin, there is no reason to like anything about them. After Agnes has died, they, alongside their husbands, discuss callously how to dismiss her now that her services are no longer needed. There is no real gratitude for her years of service taking care of their sister. They ultimately settle on no severance and the pittance of allowing the woman to pick out a memento of her time with Agnes. In a rare moment of Anna speaking up for herself, she tells them harshly that she wants no memento. Yet she does take something: Agnes’s journal, where some of the writings within hint at a deeper intimacy than mere friendship.
I can see why this film made it onto some critics’ top lists for films of the year. I can also see why it had difficulty finding any studio willing to distribute it in America because it was deemed too difficult to market it to the general populace. It eventually went to Roger Corman, who was looking to branch out into some arthouse distributions with his new production company, New World Pictures. This, coupled with Oscar recognition, propelled the film into being a financial success and a critical darling. But, while I appreciate what Bergman is trying to say, I cannot enjoy the picture as a whole. It’s cold and distant and kept me at arm’s length at all times. It’s a well-made film with a lot to say and an interesting way to say it, but I don’t see myself ever going back to rewatch it again.
Academy Award Nominations:
Best Picture: Ingmar Bergman
Best Director: Ingmar Bergman
Best Original Screenplay: Ingmar Bergman
Best Cinematography: Sven Nykvist (won)
Best Costume Design: Marik Vos
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Release Date: December 21, 1972
Running Time: 91 Minutes
Rated R
Starring: Harriet Andersson, Liv Ullmann, Ingrid Thulin, and Kari Sylwan
Directed By: Ingmar Bergman
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