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Lavinia

Lavinia

The Magic Lantern: An Autobiography - Ingmar Bergman I have no recollection of the moment I started watching and liking (that came in time, though) Bergman, since none of my friends and acquaintances had any taste in his films whatsoever. There must have been different listopias with his films, like '100 films to watch in a lifetime' or stuff like that.
Anyway, what struck me in Bergman’s several films I’ve seen so far ('Persona' being by far my favorite) was the deep sense of simplicity, the austere and grave atmosphere. Most of them being B/W, the films I’ve seen seem rather gloomy than enjoyable (in the broad sense most people refer to a film when they use the term), somber and cold but tense and with a strong (sometimes – most of the times?- weird and twisted) relation between the characters.
In the book I found a man totally different from what I imagined; an inconvenient and undesirable person, like a bull in a china shop, fighting depression and IRS (or whatever the Swedish Fiscal authority is called), permanently struggling to support his numerous family members (he was married 5 times). I sort of admire his courage to speak freely about intimate and uncomfortable issues like his relationship with his parents, God’s absence or his infidelities. I was quite surprised to find that he was not only successful with his films, but also a prominent theater director. And I praise his decision to use childhood memories or real-life facts in his films.



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Cel mai mult duc dorul colaborarii cu Sven Nykvist. Aceasta se datoreaza, probabil, faptului ca amindoi sintem captivati cu totul de problema luminii: lumina blinda, periculoasa, lumina ca de vis, lumina vie, moarta, clara, cetoasa, fierbinte, rece, puternica, brusca, intunecata, primavarateca, dreapta, oblica, senzuala, supusa, limitata, otravitoare, linistitoare, lumina luminoasa. Lumina.

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Unul din motivele pentru care-mi place Bergman. Pentru ca ilustreaza (in carte, ca si in filme) atit de fain conceptul de sunshine and silent rooms, pe care l-am descoperit (si de care m-am amorezat fara scapare) in picturile lui Hammershøi, Ilsted si Holsøe.

Iarna era pe sfirsite si lumina soarelui aparea si disparea cu miscari rapide si silentioase pe deasupra draperiilor si a tablourilor. In dreptul capului meu se inalta imensa masa din sufragerie. Mi-am sprijinit spatele de unul din picioarele arcuite ale mesei. Scaunele din jurul mesei precum si peretii aveau o tapiterie de piele aurie, innegrita de timp, emanind un miros de ceva vechi. In spatele meu, o servanta se inalta ca un castel, carafele de sticla si cupele de cristal sclipeau in lumina miscatoare. Pe perete, in partea stinga, atirna un tablou mare cu case galbene, rosii si albe. Case rasareau din apa albastra plina de barci mari.

Orologiul din sufragerie, care ajungea aproape pina la plafonul de stucatura, vorbea cu el insusi, morocanos si nepasator. De acolo de unde stateam puteam privi in salonul in care totul era verde: pereti, covoare, mobile, draperii chiar si ferigi si palmieri crescind acolo tot in vase verzi. O cunosteam pe doamna alba si goala, cu bratele taiate. Statea putin aplecata in fata, privindu-ma cu un suris vag. Pe comoda pintecoasa cu feronerii si picioare aurii ticaia un ceas aurit, sub un clopot de sticla. Un tinar cintind la flaut se sprijinea de cadran. Aproape lipita de el se afla o doamna micuta, cu o palarie mare si o rochie scurta si infoiata, ambele figurine erau aurite. Cind batea ora douasprezece, tinarul cinta la flaut iar fata dansa.

Lumina soarelui stralucea puternic, facind sa scinteie prismele in candelabrele de cristal, alunecind peste picturile cu casele ce cresteau din apa, dezmierdind albul statuii. Si din nou bateau clopotele, si din nou fata de aur dansa iar baiatul cinta, doamna cea goala intorcea capul sa-mi faca un semn. Moartea isi tira coasa pe linoleumul de pe coridorul intunecat, o presimteam, ii vedeam craniul galben si surisul, silueta neagra, desirata, conturindu-se de cealalta parte a geamurilor de la usa exterioara.