Rating: 4/5
Criterion Challenge 2024 | 47/52 | 1980s
“Not for pleasure alone,” reads the sign above the toy stage. Alexander draws up its backdrops to play with the paper characters, lighted by a row of candles. He calls for his sister, Fanny, and his mother, wandering the seemingly empty house. He falls asleep under a table as the clock chimes 3. A statue in the corner comes to life, dancing.
It’s Christmas Eve. Grandmother Helena walks through the house, directing the housekeepers and ensuring everything is set for the evening Christmas party. The family puts on a Nativity play, followed by the party. Adults delight the children with dances, fart jokes, and pillow fights — meanwhile, the adults navigate the years of resentments, worries, and complications.
Helena worries about her son, Oscar — why he married Emile, how bad an actor he is, and how he’s making himself sick running the theater. So, when Oscar dies of a stroke, the problems of the adults become the problems of the children, too.
Cock, piss, shit, fart, piss, hell, shit, cock, fart, shit, piss, fart, cock, cunt, damn, hell, crap, ass, piss, cock, butt, pussy.
Karyn Kusama describes the film as “when you have lived at a moment in time where you believed in magic.” The film is a culmination of Bergman’s career fixations, getting at the fundamental motives behind the existential questions that drove his earlier films. He sets aside the ideas and experimental ways he explored them in the past while maintaining the formalism that made him such a beloved filmmaker.
I related most to Alexander’s experience when he was under the bishop’s care. The need to learn to lie to keep the peace, the “conversations” that are admonishments—storytelling became a way of being safe.
The scene with the chest—wow, what a moment. I’ve thought about it often.
I watched the miniseries version of this a little over a year ago. The curious viewer may find the total experience of the movie lacking precisely because the film removes some of the careful textures and relationships to arrive at a manageable runtime. Then again, these may just be things I notice because I’ve seen the full version. The parts I connected to the most from the miniseries were Alexander’s flights of fancy, which are only represented here in the tiniest way.
So, while this is still a tremendous film, I prefer the full-length version. That said, despite the title, neither gives much attention to Fanny.