Review: Persona (1966)

Persona is most definitely one of the most singularly amazing yet bizarre and disturbing cinematic experiences I've ever had. It's a disturbing, slowly unwinding nightmare of imagery and meaning, carefully woven together by the one and only Ingmar Bergman.

Running a mere hour and twenty five minutes, Persona is an intentionally obscure, dreamlike stream of imagery. The story is deceptively simplstic: after famed actress Elisabet Vogler (Liv Ullmann) suddenly chooses to stop communicating, Nurse Alma (Bibi Andersson) is tasked with taking care of the non-communicative, yet obviously sane, Elisabet. What follows is a strange, increasingly disturbing and nightmarish tale of traded identities, self hatred, and sexual exploration, all within the confines of Elisabet's summer home in the Swedish coastline.

Bergman directs the film like a painter, carefully constructing deceptively simple frames and scenes with his camera. Often, the camera is intentionally close and personal to his actresses' faces, relying on the intricacies of their expressions to convey a variety of complex emotions, with Andersson delivering dense, complex monologues, all while Ullmann emotes entirely with her face alone, speaking a mere 14 words of dialogue. Bergman also ramps up tension and unease, either through his voyeuristic, near constantly moving camera, to unexpected smash cuts to a variety of disturbing imagery (a crucifixion, a monk self immolating, a lamb being slaughtered), or by intentionally allowing scenes to play out with little to no editing, his actresses motions slowed down to a gracefully, yet eerily elegant pace. He also plays with the medium of film itself, at one point literally destroying the very fabric of the film by having the celluloid itself melt on-screen, destroying the image before it reorients itself.

The performances from Liv Ullmann and Bibi Andersson are absolutely astounding. Ullmann is able to carry the entire film without ever speaking a word, while Andersson contrasts with her intensely emotional bearing of the soul through a series of monologues in the first half of the film. All the while, Ullmann watches her silently, at first seeming to act in an almost motherly manner towards Andersson, only to have those same mannerisms take on an increasingly disturbing, dominating sexual aura to them. Andersson's own body language is equally subtle and complex, with her waif like Alma steadily becoming a darker, more unstable person as the narrative steadily unwinds, and gaining more and more aspects of Ullmann's cold and sociopathic Elisabet.

Further enhancing the subtle sense of unease and surrealism is Sven Nykvist's minimalist, yet intense cinematography. Taking full advantage of the stark nature of black and white film, he and Bergman work together to create a film that feels both supremely natural yet unnatural, with the high contrast of black on white or white on black being used to further enhance the surrealist nature of the film.

Lars Johan Werle's score is also amazing. A disturbing, avant garde series of discordant passages and jolts, it recalls the work of Béla Bartók. It fits the film absolutely perfectly, and while it isn't often present, whenever it is, it helps the film become even more freakish and nightmarish.

I myself will not attempt to decipher the intricacies or meaning behind much of the film. However, I will propose a theory. In my mind, Alma (Bibi Andersson) and Elisabet (Liv Ullmann) are actually two sides of the same coin. Elisabet is the embodiment of Alma's darker, sociopathic impulses. She never speaks, yet is able to almost demonically dominate and control Alma with a mere look. By first allowing Alma to bear her soul to her, she steadily gains power over Alma, and in doing so, can be seen as metaphorically having Alma accept and embrace her darker side. However, Alma's better nature, as represented by Bibi Andersson, when confronted with the realization that she is steadily transforming into Elisabet, fights back, and physically beats Elisabet before leaving the home alone. In theory, by the image of Andersson and Ullmann's faces being shown together via split screen, she attains a full sense of her complete self, and in doing so, 'absorbs' Elisabet into her consciousness, and is finally able to leave the home.

Or maybe I'm totally wrong and that entire paragraph was just me spinning out a tangent. Who knows.

Either way, the film was amazing and hipnotic, and is probably one of the singularly most bizarre yet enrapturing experiences I've had.

5 out of 5 stars.