<$BlogRSDURL$>

Saturday, July 09, 2005

I DID NOT WATCH FRIDAY NIGHT'S GAME
VCR set, I met a friend for dinner and we went to see Ingmar Bergman's allegedly final film, Saraband. I caught the Bengie Molina three-run homer in transit, but upon learning the final score, I concluded that watching the game would only make me sad and angry, an emotion I didn't want after a film that left me awed.

I say that Saraband is "allegedly" Bergman's final film because, though Bergman has declared his retirement from directing, he has pulled the Michael Jordan on us before. However, given that Bergman is so old -- How old is he? -- Bergman is so old that he could have filmed the birth of Steve Finley, it seems likely that he damn well means it this time.

Anyway, the film was sterotypical Bergman in that it was challenging, slow, intense, rivetting, and, ultimately, rewarding beyond words. The performances by all four leads were astonishing, and Bergman's austere camera style simply and effectively adorned them as they fully inhabited their believable and complex characters. Add to the mix the carefully chosen musical pieces, heavy on the Bach, and you have a singularly moving experience.

So, if you like that sort of thing, Saraband is for you. It's the best film I've seen in a theater all year (made simple by the fact that I've only seen 2046 on DVD, though when it has its theatrical release next month, that will complicate things), and a fitting swan song for who is arguably the greatest living filmmaker.

Also, the Lads coming through with a couple of wins here against TacomaSeattle would be most welcome.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?