Locust gang Marianne and Johan are reuniting after a 30-year separation. Marianne comes to visit Johan and becomes a witness of an intractable conflict: his granddaughter Karin seeks to escape from the custody of the despotic father Henrik and go abroad. The grandfather is trying to help her to the obvious displeasure of the father, almost literally tied to his daughter.
Three decades ago, in Scenes from Married Life, Ingmar Bergman told the story of Marianne and Johan’s tragic breakup. And so he decided to return to the plot, saying along the way (not for the first time) that this will be his last film. Acceptance of returns to the “former lovers” is not new: Claude Lelyush filmed a continuation of his famous melodrama “Man and Woman” (1966), and Uzbek Ishmukhamedov made a sequel to “Lovers” (1969) after 35 years.
In Saraband, Bergman remained true to himself and his age: the asceticism of expressive means is brought here almost to the absolute - a minimum of catchy directorial decisions, a maximum of statics. This, by the way, is one of the main signs of old age, since it is noticed that over the years the directors lose the desire to move, and the camera seems to freeze with them, so the storyboard in Saraband is reduced mainly to the traditional “eight”.
Bergman does not try to stand out: clearly corresponding to the specifics of the telekino, offers a film-dialogue, built mainly on the close-ups of two talking actors. And even manages to give statics the status of an artistic technique. For example, a very picturesque surroundings, located around the house, shows with the help of a series of photographs, instead of going out into the open air and shooting in all its glory the wildlife that has always meant so much to the Scandinavian genius. However, in contrast, Bergman (it seems, for the first time) uses one, but very expressive visual effect in the film (in times when it is not difficult to use a figure, the skill of directors is manifested in the ability to refuse special effects, and not to stick around where possible).
The Swedish classic remains true to itself and in essence: his characters are still, like 20, 30, 40 years ago, devouring each other, playing on nerves, emotionally vampirizing each other. Each of Bergman’s heroes could have supported an army of psychotherapists, but instead they fed a man named “the most outstanding filmmaker of the twentieth century” at a Cannes festival for decades. Total selfishness and its derivative, psychological sadism – this is the bridgehead of the vast majority of Bergman’s dramas about the “deepness of despair”, which so delighted critics, especially in the 1960-70s.
Actually, the archaism of this film lies not in the primitiveness of form, but in the amount of dislike, misanthropy and negativity that you find in it. The most unbearable images of Sarabanda are not even the incestuous urges of a gray-haired dad to a 19-year-old daughter, but a dialogue between two old men - 80-year-old Johan and 60-year-old Henrik, in which father and son not only harass each other, but as if they compete in the strength of their hatred.
It would seem, stating a priori that you are making your last film, God himself ordered to abandon, finally, misanthropic moods and remove a love-filled will. However, Bergman continues to heal old purulent wounds, regurgitate the bile of hatred, and 27 times. As for the will, I think he already has it. Back in 1957, the 39-year-old Swede filmed “Wandering Field”, which, it seems, will remain the brightest film of the maestro.