Product Description

With some of the most iconic imagery ever committed to film, this exceptionally beautiful specimenof movie-making (The New Yorker) is recognized as a modern masterpiece and a landmark in late twentieth-century art (Time Out London). Actress Elisabet Vogler (Liv Ullmann) has stopped speaking and withdrawn completely. Under doctor's orders, she's taken to a remote seaside cottage by a nurse, Alma (Bibi Andersson). Alma chats to fill the silence and gradually begins to lay bareher entire identity until she discovers it is being coolly sucked away from her. As the women battle for control and sanity, the question becomes not which of them is patient and which is caregiver, but are they two separate women at all?

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #9004 in DVD
• Brand: MGM HOME VIDEO (UNDER FOX)
• Released on: 2004-02-10
• Rating: NR (Not Rated)
• Aspect ratio: 1.33:1
• Formats: Black & White, Dubbed, DVD, Full Screen, Special Edition, Subtitled, NTSC
• Original language: English, Swedish
• Subtitled in: English, Spanish, French
• Dubbed in: English
• Number of discs: 1
• Dimensions: 1.00 pounds
• Running time: 83 minutes

Features

• With some of the most iconic imagery ever committed to film, this exceptionally beautiful specimen of movie-making (The New Yorker) is recognized as a modern masterpiece and a landmark in late twentieth-century art (Time Out London). Actress Elisabet Vogler (Liv Ullmann) has stopped speaking and withdrawn completely. Under doctor s orders, she s taken to a remote seaside cottage by a nurse, Alma (

Amazon.com essential video
Ingmar Bergman's 1966 film, photographed by Sven Nykvist, begins when famous actress Elisabeth Vogler (Liv Ullmann) freezes on stage in the middle of a performance. Struck dumb by an unknown cause, she winds up in the care of young inexperienced nurse Alma (Bibi Andersson), and together they retreat to the seaside for the summer, where they enter into an uncommon intimacy and clash of wills. Bergman's study of the fragility of the human being and the treachery of life is incredibly moving in its perception and unrivaled imagery. And as always with Bergman and his reappearing ensemble of actors, the performances are flawless. Especially notable is the scene in which Alma recounts for the silent Elisabeth a morally and emotionally ambivalent erotic encounter she had experienced on a beach with a friend and two teenage boys. It is one of the most strangely erotic scenes ever filmed, and not a stitch of clothing is removed. Also of interest, and one of the most intriguing scenes in the film, perhaps among the most intriguing in all of cinema, is when Elisabeth paces barefooted back and forth over a patio on which we know there to be broken glass. It is an achievement in simple suspense from which many an aspiring director of thrillers could learn a bit. For those who've had their fill of predictable plots, irrelevant matter, and apish acting and are looking for something a little more sensual, poetic, and relevant to what life is about beyond the daily grind, this may be a good place to start. --James McGrath

Customer Reviews

An Uneasy Existential Dream; Perhaps Bergman's Finest
PERSONA may well be Ingmar Bergman's most complex film--yet, like many Bergman films, the story it tells is superficially simple. Actress Elizabeth Volger has suddenly stopped speaking in what appears to be an effort to cease all communication with the external world. She is taken to a hospital, where nurse Alma is assigned to care for her. After some time, Elisabeth's doctor feels the hospital is of little use to her; the doctor accordingly lends her seaside home to Elisabeth, who goes there with Alma in attendance. Although Elisabeth remains silent, the relationship between the women is a pleasant one--until a rainy day, too much alcohol, and Elisabeth's silence drives Alma into a series of highly charged personal revelations.

It is at this point that the film, which has already be super-saturated with complex visual imagery, begins to create an unnerving and deeply existential portrait of how we interpret others, how others interpret us, and the impact that these interpretations have upon both us and them. What at first seemed fond glances and friendly gestures from the silent Elisabeth are now suddenly open to different interpretations, and Alma--feeling increasingly trapped by the silence--enters into a series of confrontations with her patient... but these confrontations have a dreamlike quality, and it becomes impossible to know if they are real or imagined--and if imagined, in which of the women's minds the fantasy occurs.

Ultimately, Bergman seems to be creating a situation in which we are forced to acknowledge that a great deal of what we believe we know about each other rests largely upon what we ourselves project upon them. Elisabeth's face and its expressions become akin to a blank screen on which we see our own hopes, dreams, torments, and tragedies projected--while the person behind the face constantly eludes our understanding. In this respect, the theme is remarkably well-suited to its medium: the blankness of the cinema screen with its flickering, endless shifting images that can be interpreted in infinite ways.

Bergman is exceptionally fortunate in his actresses here: both Liv Ullman as the silent Elisabeth and Bibi Anderson as the increasingly distraught Alma offer incredible performances that seem to encompass both what we know from the obvious surface and what we can never know that exists behind their individual masks. Ullman has been justly praised for the power of her silence in this film, and it is difficult to imagine another actress who could carry off a role that must be performed entirely by ambigious implications. Anderson is likewise remarkable, her increasing levels of emotional distress resounding like the waves upon the rocks at their seaside retreat. And Bergman and his celebrated cinematographer Sven Nykvist fill the screen with a dreamlike quality that is constantly interrupted by unexpected images ranging from glimpses of silent films to a moment at which the celluloid appears to burn to images that merge Ullman and Anderson's faces into one.

As in many of his films, Bergman seems to be stating that we cannot know another person, and that our inability to know is our greatest tragedy. But however the film is interpreted, it is a stunning and powerful achievement, one that will resonate with the viewer long after the film ends. On a technical note, I recommend the MGM video release (and am astonished that the film is not available on DVD as yet); although the subtitles have moments of what is clearly poor translation, they are easy to read. I cannot recommend this film too strongly.

Classic Soul-Searching by Bergman
This is one of Bergman's most challenging psychological studies ever. It asks (or rather inspires the viewer to ask) radical questions about personality, identity and character by presenting a woman who one day just stops living her life; stops talking, working or responding to others. This rejection of both self and society poses a threat to others who don't know how to interpret what is going on and can't ask her directly. Is your identity ("persona") something you are--a personal soul or essence? Is it something you choose to do (a series of actions)? Is it a role forced on you by society and culture? All Bergman fans should have a copy of this film. It is at least as essential as *The Seventh Seal* and much more important than anything he did in the 70s and 80s. Many of his films are about the silence or non-existence of God; but *Persona* dares to show us a world in which we are not even sure that people truly exist.

A true masterpiece of world cinema
The first time I saw "Persona" as an eager college student many years ago, my reaction was "huh?" I have seen the film several dozen more times since then, and much of the mystery remains, revealing another dimension with each viewing. Since Bergman's retirement and subsequent autobiographical writings, John Lahr speculates that this film is clearly about the two sides of Bergman's mother--and he makes a convincing case. Someone else here has posted that the film is really a disection of schitzophrenia. I have made the argument in the past that the movie is about...the movies. The working title was "Cinematography," and Bergman has expressed this duality about the role of the artist/filmmaker in the past and the trickery inherent in the process of making and watching films. My point is that all the above--and more--is true. Critic John Simon has stated that "'Persona' is to film what 'Ullyses' is to the novel." Yep...at least.