With Saraband, writer/filmmaker Ingmar Bergman closes the book, so to speak, on his life's work. It's a sequel, which could have been thwarting (why go back and do the same thing over again, one could ask). But it is the kind of sequel that bears significance. Bergman brings back two actors/friends he's worked with numerous times, Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson, and uses their characters from his film/TV series Scenes from a Marriage for a higher purpose than to rake in the bucks. He's out to bring some closure to their relationship, however not entirely based on nostalgia. This time two other characters in the film, new ones, become the centerpiece of the story. As with the majority of his works, he finds two key assets that work to his advantage behind his own personal attachment to the project- the camera/lighting, and the cast.

It may be too easy to compare and contrast this film and the series. But it is of interest if only for curiosity sake. There is something of note that revealed to one how the actual cinematography can evolve properly or at least in a fashion that is not off-putting. This time around (unlike Sven Nykvist's perfect work on 'Marriage', a kind of pre-Dogma 95 style to use the camera with the story), Bergman decided to make the film for television (his on occasion work aside from theatre for the past twenty years since Fanny and Alexander) and also decided to implement digital photography. There are five cinematographers, and it's too tedious to pick out if which one did what properly or who lit this right and so on. But that in Saraband, however, doesn't suffer by way of the digital perspective. If anything, it serves its purpose fully by keeping the naturalistic mood. Some scenes are seen with as clear an eye as ever for Bergman. Others that may be a little more obscured by darkness are affecting psychologically in a way. Bergman's preference is to look at faces and expressions, without much to obscure the actors.

What is of surprise is that Bergman injects two things that he intentionally kept out of 'Scenes'- inner visions (actually shown, not just spoken and felt by the actors), and music. In at least a couple of scenes, to add an intensity and a sense of the surreal, we see what Karina sees in some key moments. She describes an ugly incident with her father. She runs through the woods. When something very ugly occurs, it happens off screen, with a pause given in-between one scream. Needless to say it was tremendously moving. The other involved an enormous, involving fantasy. She's just been told information by her grandfather Johan that is crucial for her decision towards the end. When she sits on the stairs, the camera suddenly cuts to pull back on her on a chair, against a white background, and the camera pulls back further and further at a quick pace. This kind of technique I could feel as if I've seen in maybe a dozen films. When Bergman does this, after such a hopeful scene for Karina, it is a useful technique. Whatever the intention, it's far greater a grab then in a standard action film. Those are the two kinds of scenes/images that are very emotional and immediate on a first viewing.

Ullmann and Josephson, who portrayed Marianne and Johan thirty years ago, never lose their ability to play off each other as actors. The focal point this time is with Henrik and Karina though, so the performances by Ahlstedt and especially Dufvenius for Bergman had to be even more affecting than those of the observers. Ahlstedt's Henrik is a tricky sort to empathize with perhaps: can an audience be with him when the drama unfolds with his daughter? Turns out he brings the humanity in all its darkness and seemingly complex inner-damnation as one of Bergman's most memorable characters. His conflicts with his father and daughter stem from a number of elements, but the key one is very identifiable- death of the one you've loved the most. How can change occur? This is a question posed as well for Karina, and in Ahlstedt playing her she already shows enough talent and gusto to take on stronger roles in the future. At first sight, I thought she might have been over-hitting her mark, or that Bergman was over-directing. This was not the case, and in the subtle moments she revealed herself on the level of one of Bergman's 'ladies' (i.e. Ullmann, Bibi Andersson, and Harriet Anderson).

As the closure, what does Bergman do? He does something rather wise to weave the story of the father and daughter together with the continuing story of Johan and Marianne with an equal resonance and emotional weight. The younger two find their own ends to the means, and I would not dare reveal how and why. But for Marianne Bergman answers a question that was asked if not out-right then with all of the action and tension and buildups and payoffs in 'Marriage'. Does a person know what emotion is, or what it feels like? In the final scene (to put it mildly), he and Ullmann answer it in an approach that practically had me in tears. This would not mark the first time this has happened while viewing a Bergman film, yet the fact that this is the last gave me a cleansing feeling, of the greatest cathartic release with a thoughtful film.

If it's one of the key objectives for a filmmaker in drama and tragedy to reveal it as truthfully as possible, and bring us with the character(s) full-circle, Ingmar Bergman's pulled it off wonderfully. Saraband is one of the crucial swan songs in film history (for my money, and will soon find its way to American theaters (digital projectors more or less likely). A++

When I was a teenager, I watched "Scenes from a Marriage" which was shown on British Television during the early seventies. I became engrossed, as the unrelenting camera stared and recorded the break-up of a doomed relationship. The characters seemed hell-bent on this destruction despite themselves. It was a fascinating, harrowing series and I enjoyed it. I must have done, because I never forgot the impression it gave me. Luckily the BBC kept the original soundtrack, and the show was sent using subtitles. The drama offered in those foreign tongued, angry, desperate conversations was of the highest quality.

Now, over 30 years later, I am in my living room once more watching Johan and Marianne. Only this time I don't need subtitles, as I have since learnt Swedish. :-)

Bergman weaves a tale of vindictive dependence and of a young girl's decision to finally make her own way in life - despite some very powerful forces preventing such a move.

Marianne decides to seek out Johan, meets him and becomes involved in the tug of war over his grand-daughter's future with the girl's father, Johan's depressed son Henrik (wonderfully played by Börje Ahlstedt).

A quiet, intensive film. With an important, pivotal roll for the grand-daughter Karin played by Julia Dufvenius.

Bergman should be proud of this. It's a fine epilogue to a marvelous career in cinema and story-telling.

Bravo!

It's in a way fitting, that Ingmar Bergman, one of the cinema's best directors, to choose to depart in this fashion, by expanding on an early work, which was by all accounts fully realized, or so we thought. In "Sarabande" we are reunited with Johan and Marianne, the protagonists of "Scenes from a Marriage". Mr. Bergman seems to have composed a suite in which the Sarabande movement, which is usually introspective and dark, gives the tone to his account in this new work.

If you haven't seen the film, perhaps you should stop reading now.

When we last saw Johan and Marianne they gave the impression their relationship was over. We get to know in "Sarabande" that yes, it really happened, but that a lot of years have passed between the lovers without any actual contact between them. Usually, when intense love affairs end, both partners stay away from one another. It comes as a surprise that Marianne will even try to see Johan after all the intervening years.

When we first meet Johan, he appears to be much older than what he really is. Time has not been kind to him, or so it appears. Marianne, on the other hand is still an interesting woman, who of course, is much younger, but the contrast heightens what appears to be a gulf now between them.

Things are complicated with the introduction of Henrik, Johan's own son, who has moved to a cottage in the property, where he is living with his daughter Karin. Henrik's wife has died, but her picture seems to dominate their lives. In fact, there is something incestuous in the relationship between Henryk and Karin. We watch them in bed, although there's nothing improper about it, but we start to get a different image of what really is going on in the cottage. At one point Karin kisses her father in a way that it confirms the love-hate emotions within Karin's heart. She is trying to break away from this situation in whatever way she can.

In a way we realize that Johan, who seems to hate Henrik, perceives what is going on, but he doesn't have the strength to confront this sad man that is his son. Maryanne, stays away from the feud going on between father and son. It's clear she feels deeply for Karin, a girl that has gained her trust, but there she feels nothing for Henrik.

The acting is first rate, as in most of Mr. Bergman's films. He has the uncanny gift to get great performances from his cast, as it's the case with "Saraband". Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson are perfect as the one time lovers Marianne and Johan. Borje Ahlstedt makes an unappealing and tormented Henrik. The luminous Julia Dufvenius is marvelous as Karin, the young woman, basically at the center of the story.

This is a great coda for Mr. Bergman. He leaves us with an emotional charged film that will be treasured by all his fans.

Ingmar Bergman goes on trying to find the meaning of life and the world and what means sentiment after all. Do we love when we think we hate? What's going on in the deepness of human soul? What justifies our actions? Which truth commands human relations mainly family and marital ones? This quest is pursued by formal means and themes different of those used in some of his previous movies such as The Seventh Seal or Persona but the same interrogation is always there. A sexagenarian lady decides to pay a visit to her ex-husband whom she had not seen for more than 30 years. She will be then the spectator of a series of events involving his ex-husband, his son of a previous marriage and the latter's young daughter in a tempest of violent feelings and psychological outbursts against which her serenity and wisdom make an interesting counterpoint. There is also another character whose presence is overwhelming despite the fact that she is already dead when the movie begins: Anna the former wife of the ex-husband's son. She still lives in the heart and of the two men and the young girl with her words and deeds. The love-hate relationship between father and son and father and daughter is very intense. The scene where the character played by Erland Josephson yields one night to anguish and anxiety and seeks refuge in her ex-wife's bed ( without any sex being involved) is extremely moving. We are indeed in the presence of a masterpiece.

For many years "The Seventh Seal" has not only been my favorite Bergman film, but my all-time list topper. Although others have since moved into that place, Bergman's genius as a probing and revelatory filmmaker continue to astound and reward me.

"Saraband" for me is about as good as he gets...and that's high praise. Here the human soul in anguish is laid bare in all its honest need...a thwarted one...for love and understanding. A once married couple, Marianne and Johann (brilliantly portrayed by Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson) do their saraband even after 30 years apart. And like that dance, in its repetitive themes, their relationship as well as that of Johann's son and granddaughter form a kind of tragic rondo, sadly and inexorably replicated. Henrik, the 61 year old son (portrayed with amazing profoundity by Borje Ahlstedt) cannot extricate himself from the slings and arrows aimed at him continually by his father. The one character, now dead, who serves as a graceful inspiration to them all is Henrik's wife and his daughter, Karin's mother...Anna. We see her beautiful face in a photographic portrait, but her loving presence in their memory is so strong it becomes a kind of living influence. Karin, played by the stunning Julia Dufvenius, is also the victim of the family dynamic and forms the important fourth in this saraband of life and fate.

Legendary Swedish director Ingmar Bergman officially "retired" from film-making in 1982 following the release of his highly acclaimed autobiographical drama, "Fanny and Alexander." That was supposed to have been his swan song, yet, since that time, he has made so many TV movies that have been released into theaters in the United States that, for Americans at least, it has pretty much been a "retirement" in name only.

His latest such film to be released here, "Saraband," is, technically, a sequel to his earlier masterwork, "Scenes From a Marriage," which was also a made-for-TV work that received theatrical distribution in the United States in 1974. "Saraband" reunites us with the now-divorced couple, Marianne and Johan, whom we are told have not really spoken to each other for almost thirty years. For reasons that she is not even able to fully explain to herself, Marianne (Liv Ullman) feels compelled to visit her ex-husband (Erland Josephson) and find out how he's doing and, perhaps, figure out if there still might be something between them. However, despite the fact that this new film is billed as an extension of the original "Marriage," Johan and Marianne wind up somewhat on the periphery of the real story which involves the incestuous relationship between Henrik (Borie Ahlstedt), Johan's son from a previous marriage, and his beautiful 19-year old daughter, Karin (Julia Dufvenius). Henrik is a classical musician whose beloved wife, Anna, has recently died. In some strange way, he clings to Karin almost as a replacement for Anna - even though there are hints that the incest began before Anna's death and that indeed Anna was aware of it - making it clear to his daughter that he would be utterly destitute if she were ever to leave.

This is obviously heady stuff for the viewer, but Bergman is, as always, so in control of his material that we are drawn into the conflict even though, initially, we may be repelled by what is taking place. In addition to the struggle between father and daughter, there is also the intense hatred between Johan and Henrik - so intense, in fact, that Henrik even admits he would take great pleasure in seeing his father stricken with a horrible illness that would cause him a slow and agonizing death. Caught in the middle of all this, as both observer and confidante, is Marianne, who can proffer only so much help and advice before she, too, risks becoming infected by the emotional disease that holds these people in its grip. Yet, of all the characters, Marianne appears to be the most stable and hopeful in her dealings with life. For instance, she can see the ugliness of much of Johan's way of interacting with people, yet she can still find a core of something worth loving buried deep inside the man.

Even for a Bergman chamber drama with just four people in its cast, "Saraband" is a remarkably stark piece of cinema and, as such, it may be off-putting to those unfamiliar with the director's work. The camera rarely moves outdoors, preferring instead to remain intensely focused on the characters who pour out at great length their darkest, deepest thoughts for us to muse over and examine. His is a complex tale of people quietly torn asunder by unhealthy obsessions, morbid self-interest and an inability to reach out in love and forgiveness even in the darkest moments of one's life. And as always with Bergman, the four performers transcend mere acting and literally become the characters on screen.

The decades certainly haven't mellowed Bergman's mood when it comes to the contemplation of death or the meaninglessness of existence, so make sure you're in the right frame of mind before taking on this film. But those who are true devotees of Bergman's work will certainly not want to miss "Saraband."

(please note - this review refers to the theatrical release, not the TV version) Veteran master Ingmar Bergman releases what he claims is his final movie. In a world dominated by blockbusters, even with a sprinkling of aspiring auteurs and masterful experimenters such as von Trier, Bergman fulfils his iconic role as setting a gold standard in cinema. For many art-house lovers, Bergman portrays what film can and should do when it is at the height of its power as an art form.

Having said that it seems a strange twist of fate to be viewing Saraband, as I did, at the Edinburgh International Film Festival where it is up for the Standard Life 'audience award', along with mainstream crowd-pleasers. As I cast my vote I felt it was almost a desecration for such a movie to be entered in a popularity poll, however discerning the audience. There are a number of serious works at the Festival and they should be judged by an independent panel of experts - there is a discussion afoot to create a new award along these lines - otherwise it is like comparing Beethoven with the Beatles.

Saraband, in true Bergman tradition, wrestles with human relationships, using a slow pace, pointed dialogue, and heavy use of symbolism to explore the psychological states of the characters. Bergman encourages young directors not to direct any film that does not have a "message," but to wait until one comes along that does, yet admits himself that he is not always sure of the message of some of his films.

We are never in any doubt that this film has much point to it, even if the point is not exactly clear. It opens with the slow soulful 'saraband', of Bach's 5th unaccompanied cello suite. 'Sarabande' is one of the movements from the suite, a slow and, compared to the others, a relatively easy piece to play. Marianne (Liv Ullman), is both narrator (at the beginning and end of the film) and principal protagonist. As she walks through the rooms of a house the doors close behind her. A cuckoo clock strikes. She is in the later part of her life. She fleetingly touches the keys of a piano, as if to say she still, even in solitude, has her inner music. Her presence is explained as she goes to the veranda and we find she is visiting an ex-husband, someone who was unfaithful to her many years ago. The colours are crisp and sharp. Of all the members of her family, Marianne is perhaps the clearest of mind and most well-balanced, but it is the extended interaction (with very little action) between the main players that give us insights into the beauty of being elderly, at least for someone like Marianne who handles it well. Yet even she is filled with sadness for others.

Later chapters of the film focus on her step-grand-daughter. Karin is a cellist, living with a rather overprotective (if that's not too mild a word) father, also a musician. She has to face a difficult choice, involving her personal loyalties, her loyalty to herself and ability as a gifted young cellist, and the need to extricate herself from a situation that is bad for her but will be bad for her father if she does.

The symbolism of the title and music neatly metaphors the decisions before her. A saraband is also a two-person dance. The suggestion, made at one point, of playing it by two people alternating is essentially a frivolous one, which serious musicians would probably reject. That the Suite for Unaccompanied Cello should not be played as a duet, even with the younger person playing the 'easier part' as Karin's father suggests, is an unobtrusive symbol reminding us, in the film's later loaded context, that there are some lines that an older and younger person should never cross together.

Saraband shows how old age can tempt us to wisdom or its opposite.

I am by no mean qualified to give a full range analysis of the film Saraband by Ingmar Bergman, but would like to give my personal comments.

This may be the last great film as an art genre, as opposed to film as entertainment. In the early days of film directors where trying to please a reading audience. No living director has protected this heritage better than Bergman. He can still compete with the best authors of his time.

The quietness which surrounds this film, the excellent actor performances, the long footages of close-ups of faces, the first cello sonato of Bach (Saraband), the old man who is a bit like Bergman himself; all this makes the film a masterpiece. The dialogs hold great literary quality. Bergman and his film crew are able to show people who are inactive on the outside, but active on the inside; it is quietness which speaks! There is no time for trivial dialog in the films of Bergman: Here you will find people who talk out about the great tragedies in life. The composition gives you a feeling of being in a theatre.

Bergman is a living challenge to anyone who wants to take film seriously as an art form!

"Saraband" is a moving and challenging, successful return by Bergman to the quality of films of an earlier period, like "Hour of the Wolf" or of course "Scenes from a Marriage," with characters held in confessional close-ups, trapped by ego and anxiety.

With an intolerable burden of the generations, a young woman must make a choice that may be tragic. There are no useful models, not even the briefly glimpsed folk-art carving of the Last Supper with John, the beloved disciple, blissful on the lap of Jesus, not law, Kierkegaard, whiskey, or Bach either.

It is regrettable if after all these years this is Bergman's "Tempest" (though then appropriately involving Erland Josephson--all the actors are necessarily extremely good). Shakespeare did go on to work on "The Two Noble Kinsman."

SVT could have given Bergman film instead of digital recording. RAI uses film for its splendid productions, or it used to. Seen in a theatre, the visual quality was imperfect. How could people think this work would not deserve general theatrical release?

Now I know what all those slow movies were trying to imitate.

I had seen a lot of movies like it, but NOT QUITE. This is one of the most flawless movie I've ever seen. A revelation -- (I had never seen an Ingmar Bergman movie before.)

The ease with which emotions are communicated through the screen is unbelievable. I have never seen anything like it. What is it that makes it so different and so memorable? Every single element in this film contributes to its general beauty, the moaning cello, the words, the eyes of the amazing actors, EVERYTHING. No superfluous scenes, no unnecessary sophistication. Bergman is a master of emotional precision.

It is just a personal opinion but just like "Talk to her" was my favourite from last year, "Saraband" is the best movie I've seen this year. I recommend that you go see it if you get the chance. Don't think. Just go. If you don't like it, it will be one more movie you didn't like. But if you don't see it you risk missing a kind of cinematic orgasm.

I'll never see another Ingmar Bergman movie at a theatre house: 'Saraband' is supposed to be his final movie, and it's now at the end of his career that I finally begin to discover the beauty of Bergman's movies. I was immediately pleased when I recognised Erland Josephson — in this movie playing Johan — as Dr. David from 'Cries & Whispers,' the only Bergman movie I've seen besides this. Bergman is reputed for making bleak, depressing movies, but I found in 'Saraband' a cry for the need to live, to grow without restraints, of leaving the past behind and moving onwards, even if it hurts someone we love… as it happens in this movie. I actually left the movie feeling quite serene even if I was aware of Henrik's terrifying climax to his life. I don't think I was supposed to sympathise more with one character than other, but I really felt closer to Henrik than any other. It seems Bergman is no stranger to showing Man's weaknesses and idiosyncrasies, and he shows it clearly through Henrik: his fear of abandonment and solitude in his last years of life, something everyone should relate to, lead him to extreme measures as suicide attempt. Bergman captures these strange moments in one's personality which seem to make no sense to anyone else but us; he goes deep into his characters and brings out all their complex, confused emotions.

The storyline was straightforward: it's about family, about an old couple — Marianne and Johan — meeting again after several years separated. I never saw the original 'Scenes From A Marriage,' so I feel I missed a lot about their relationship, but Bergman tells it with so much clarity I never felt alienated. If anything, it's whetted my interested in the older movie. Contrasting this old couple reuniting we have the story of a father and a daughter, Henrik and Karin, the dramatic essence of the movie to me. I've just realised this movie focus on 4 characters, three of them over 50-years-old, and yet it's extremely engaging to someone my young age. The core conflict is Karin feeling torn between leaving her father to have the life, knowing he'll die without her, or staying and seeing life pass by her. It's not an easy decision for her, however I'm glad she makes the one I expected her character to make and not the one I wanted her to make: I love a happy ending, but not when they're forced and characterisation suffers in the process. The structure was also interesting: it's several small vignettes, each involving just two characters at a time; so the film is basically just a collection of conversations. It worked very well for me; each unit serves a different purpose while building on the previous one to form the bigger whole; the way Marianne and Karin struck a friendship, for instance, was nicely done; or Henrik explaining to his daughter his fear of being abandoned and how it all relates to his dead wife, Anna.

I loved the strange little touches and moments in the movie: Marianne talking to the viewer right at the start was bizarre; her 'one minute longer' scene was funny; Karin's screaming in the middle of the woods was unbearable; seeing her sleep in the same bed with her father took me by surprise; and when she kisses him in the mouth by impulse at the height of an argument, I felt disturbed; Johan's peeing himself at the end left me feeling sad for him, it's these moments of ordinary embarrassment and fear that Bergman seems so good at capturing on the screen. The cinematography was beautiful, for a television movie it could put to shame many studio productions. I particularly loved the scene where Karin is playing her cello against a white background and the camera zooms out until she fades as a speck against the horizon.

Liv Ullmann and Borje Ahlstedt were brilliant in their roles: their performances lighted the screen every time they were on; fantastic was their scene together at the church where Henrik confesses his hatred for his father. Erland Josephson was also very good, better here than in 'Cries & Whispers:' his argument with Henrik in his office will stay in my mind forever. There's something very autobiographical in when Johan says 'I know I've been a lousy father' and Henrik replies 'You haven't been a father at all.' This is something which according to Bergman one of his sons actually told him. It's amazing how this director channels so much of his own life into his work! Julia Dufvenius was very good as Karin considering it's one of her first movies, although I wonder why they didn't choose an actual 19-year-old girl to play the Karin, was it perhaps because of some of the content.

Saraband is one of the best movies I've ever seen; 2005 is still young, but already I know I won't watch such a fine movie this year again. If this is Bergman when he's in his eighties, then I wish he'd keep on making movies until he's a hundred! This is cinema at its best.

After thirty years without seeing each other, Marianne (Liv Ulmann) has a strong need to visit Johan (Erland Josephson), who is living in an isolated house that belonged to his grandparents after inheriting a fortune from a distant aunt. In the nearby cottage, Johan's son from another marriage, Henrik (Börje Ahlstedt), is living with his daughter Karin (Julia Dufvenious), after the death of his beloved wife Anna. Henrik is giving cello lessons to Karin to be admitted into a European music school and has an incestuous relationship with his daughter. Along the autumn, Marianne is involved in the troubled relationship between Johan and his son, and Henrik and his daughter.

In his last work as a director, Ingmar Bergman revisits the characters of 1973 "Scenes from a Marriage" thirty years older, with Marianne sharing the dramatic and complicated relationship of John's family. The first point that impresses in this movie is the always precise and careful direction of an 83 years old Ingmar Bergman, showing an amazing vitality and longevity in his career. I do not recall the last movie I have seen of Liv Ulmann, but this now senior actress is still fantastic. This theatrical movie is a great character study, as usual in Bergman's films, with excellent and emotional dialogs, and ends with many open issues. Why Johan and Henrik hate each other so deeply? What was written in the last page of Anna's farewell letter? I believe she knew that her husband was having an incestuous relationship with Karin. The unknown actress Julia Dufvenious is extremely beautiful and talented, and her contradictory character is also impressive. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "Saraband"

This movie is for people who can tolerate introspection, meditation or a slow pace in visual art, and who want their intelligence and hearts challenged. The "saraband" is a dance between two people, revealing character and emotion, so the structure of this movie is a series of emotional and psychological sarabands. Bergman once again digs deep into human lives through his fictional characters to expose how the need for power destroys love, and the healing power of love. Liv Ullman and Erland Josephson give radiant, wise performances, with depth and compassion. By stripping the action down to the bare minimum, Bergman once again focuses his laser-view camera on the people and reveals his genius in showing us how we are responsible for our own pain and suffering, not others. It saddens to think that this is the last film from this master storyteller and director. This is what film storytelling is all about, not car chases and spectacular explosions and special effects; that is, the human heart and mind.

I was not surprised that I was disappointed by this final Bergman film, so I hope the world won't care if I consider "Fanny och Alexander" to be his final…wait…that was made for TV too. Anyway. In any case I do disagree with the only other non-adulatory review on here, the person simply doesn't get why Bergman makes films as if it's some sort of mistake on his part, my advice is watch more of them and if you still don't get it then stick to Hollywood.

My main problem with this film is that there is a vital and crippling flaw in the characterization of the son. We are to believe that the deceased wife was a saint but our estimation of her worth must be in some way linked to her choice of a mate whether or not she could perceive that her husband was an out and out monster. By making him a disgusting, selfish, spiteful, violent, blubbering and incestuous pile of human waste much of the film's set-ups are squandered, because Erland Josephson's character (who is also written so differently from in "Scenes from a Marriage" that Bergman should have just chosen new names and begun again not to mention that the children's names are wrong and everything) is absolutely and infallibly right to despise his son and would be within reason to kill him with his bare hands. What is worse is that if they had made it so that Henrik was not such scum there might have been actual tension and ambiguity instead of just "She's gotta get away from this psycho." I was also very disappointed that Bergman threw the incest in, it felt exploitative and it hurt the plot.

Liv Ullman isn't actually given a lot to do except interview people and Julie Dufvenius, who looks an awful lot like Maria Sharapova, is called upon to do too much too often.

I'm not going to cry over it, however. I just saw Kurosawa's final film "Madadayo" which, apart from the transcendent ending was a boring disappointment as well. This film has the excellent flashback of Henrik's violence towards Karin, the small scene at the Vargtimmen (Hour of the Wolf) and the Epilogue to recommend it. Other than that it was nowhere near the quality of the average Bergman film. "Faithless" that Bergman wrote and Ullman directed was more faithful.

Originally shot for television in high definition video, Ingmar Bergman's latest film, Saraband, is about the reunion of a husband and wife after thirty years of divorce and separation. Divided into ten segments plus a prologue and epilogue, the title is derived from a minuet-like dance for two people commonly performed at court during the 17th and 18th centuries. Like the dance, there are never more than two people on screen at any one time and the film is almost all conversation with bits of classical music. The film is vintage Bergman with revealing close-ups, emotionally intense dialogue, an old-fashioned style of film-making, and a surfeit of bitterness about the human condition.

Liv Ullman and Erland Josephson, the original screen couple from Bergman's 1973 film Scenes of a Marriage, reunite in his summer home for their first face to face contact since their breakup. Johan has become very wealthy as a result of an inheritance. Marianne is a lawyer and they have two daughters from their failed marriage: Sara who is married to a prominent lawyer and lives in Australia and Martha who is in a mental institution and does not recognize her mother. Johan is surprised by his ex-wife's visit but they still hold hands and try to remember the good things about the past, though Johan's interest seems to be minimal. Living nearby are Henrik (Borje Ahlstedt), Johan's son from a second marriage and his daughter Karin (Julia Dufvenius), a promising young cellist. Henrik and Karin have an uncomfortably strong attachment and mutual need as a result of the recent death of Anna, Henrik's wife who was deeply loved.

Henrik is training his daughter in the cello to prepare her for an audition at the local conservatory but has to turn to Johan for financial support who uses the occasion to humiliate him. Karin is contemplating going to Europe to work for an orchestra but is afraid of the consequences for Henrik if she leaves. Relationships between the family are strained, seemingly beyond repair and their world is filled with childish resentments and regrets. Karin resents her father for suffocating her emotionally. Marianne still resents Johan for his unfaithfulness. Henrik resents his father for -- not being a father. Johan resents Henrik for not being the son he wanted. No one can see beyond their ego to feel the needs and wants of others. The emotional pain is real but I found the end result to be facile and unconvincing.

Saraband has received high praise as a "lacerating examination of life's conundrums that is exhilarating in its fearlessness and its command", and an "affective, touching, and ultimately highly affirming picture of familial turmoil and the curative, as well as destructive, powers of love." But what I ask is this - What new insights do we gain about the human condition from witnessing a family go at each other with unbridled ruthlessness? In offering his audience the latest generation of "emotional illiterates", Bergman lets us see the clawing and fighting but hides the life-affirming reality that people are capable of transcending their limitations.

In Saraband, there is no self- reflection, responsibility, or hint that people can change with the passage of time. His characters only seem to have been able to refine their capacity for collecting grievances. When Henrik is suffering, no one talks about him, goes to visit him, or seems in the least concerned. Is this the way Bergman after all these years sees human relationships? Is this the legacy he wants to leave us? Despite its considerable strengths, Sourband (sic) is a bitter and despairing film that left a bad taste in my mouth.

"A saraband is a grave, courtly Baroque dance.."

Marianne (Liv Ullmann) and Johan (Erland Josephson), the heroes of "Scenes of a Marriage (1973), meet again after thirty years when Marianne suddenly decides to visit Johan at his old summer house. When he asked why she came, she answered that she thought he had called for her. The story of Marianne and Johan in this film provides a background for another story which involved Johan's son from his first marriage, 61 year old musician Henric and his 19 year old daughter Karin whom Henric has been giving cello lessons and dreams of her becoming a famous performer. There is one more character present in the movie, even though she's been dead for two years - Anna, late Henric's wife and Karin's mother who has been deeply missed and mourned by everyone including Johan.

This film is dedicated to Ingrid von Rosen, Bergman's last wife who died in 1995. It is her face we see at the photograph of Anna which Bergman shows over and over again. It seems to me that one of the reasons of making "Saraband" was for Bergman the chance to say to Ingrid, "I love you and I miss you and even death can't take you from me". In his last movie, Bergman sadly proves (once again) that even time can't heal the painful wounds caused by deeply-rooted hatred which is only one step away from love. How disturbing was the scene between 86 -year-old father and 61-year-old son. They looked the same age, old, grey-haired men who still cherish the hatred and contempt for each other that go way back and there is no victory in this power struggle. But there is hope in the movie for young Karin who breaks out of the world that she was forced to believe she belonged to but she did not and she found the strength to leave and to be free and to make her own decisions...

As all Bergman's films, "Saraband" does not provide the easy answers to the difficult questions; it does not provide any answers at all but as old Johan in the most moving scene of the film bares his body, Bergman bares his very soul and lets us look inside of it and maybe learn something about ourselves.

Saraband, is a Swedish film in Swedish with English subtitles. The film is a follow up to the 1973 film Scenes From A Marriage, and is set thirty years later. Marianne, decides after not seeing her divorced husband Johan, in at least thirty years that she wants to see him again so she goes to visit him at his summer home and stays there with him for awhile. Johan's son from another marriage lives nearby named Henrik, who lives with his nineteen year old daughter Karin. Henrik's wife Anna, died a few years ago and now he lives alone with his Karin. The film shows the relationship between the divorced Marianne and Johan, as well as the rocky relationship with Johan and Henrik, and Henrik and his daughter Karin. Henrik, has taught Karin cello lessons for a long time and plays for her to be a musician and to continue to live with him but things get complicated when she gets an offer to go elsewhere to pursue her career while Henrik does not want her to go. Winner of The Special Condor for the film's writer/director Ingmar Bergman at The Argentinean Film Critics Association Awards. Saraband, has good direction, good performances by all four actors, good cinematography, good film editing and good production design. This is Ingmar Bergman's first theatrical film since 1982's Fanny And Alexander, which he claimed would be his last film. Since then Ingmar Bergman has made a couple made for TV movies and written a couple scripts that were made into TV movies as well (in fact Saraband, was originally a made for TV movie in Sweden, but was picked up and released theatrically). I first started seeing Ingmar Bergman films because people I know who studied film in university had to study Ingmar Bergman's film and he was considered a master filmmaker. Many film books I have read also talk about him often and quite highly so I decided to start seeing his films. I have now seen at least twelve Ingmar Bergman films and I have really liked them all and many of them I consider masterpieces and Ingmar Bergman, is now one of my favourite directors. When, I first heard of Saraband coming to theaters and that us film fans would get one last taste of Bergman, I was thrilled. Was, I disappointed with the film? Nope, I loved it. The direction and script are great and the film gives us great and thought provoking dialog and situations and gives us characters who are real and who we can sometimes relate to and they are such well written characters that sometimes we don't feel like we are watching a movie but instead watching two people in reality talking about complex and thought provoking topics. The film also deals with mature subject matters and pulls it off perfectly. The acting is great and everyone gives a great performance. The film looks great and is powerful, thought provoking, riveting, a good character study, a strong film, is full of emotion and is a fascinating film and is well made in just about every possible film. This film is as good as some classic Bergman films such as Wild Strawberries or The Seventh Seal. The film is also a great follow up to Scenes From A Marriage, and I would add this film to the list of Ingmar Bergman's masterpieces. Ingmar Bergman, has vowed that this will be his last film and what a great film to go out with. Ingmar Bergman, should be proud that he has always been an original and thought provoking writer and director and has always written his own films and is one of the world's greatest directors and always will be. Ingmar Bergman, has been nominated for nine Oscars, and has never won. Time to fix that error and give him an Oscar, for his final picture which is a masterpiece all it's own and is one of the best films of the year and will be viewed and talked about for years to come. And, I was certainly not surprised as the end credits rolled and the whole audience clapped.

(Seen at a San Francisco International Film Festival showing, March 30, 2005)

Ingmar Bergman is back for one more "last" film. There's a lot of talk about how Bergman's vision is still "bleak" and how depressing Saraband is, but a lot of that is due to the heavy burden of preconceptions any long-time Bergman fan brings to it. There are reasons for finding sunshine here. At the same time, there isn't the anguished power of Bergman's best work. This film made for TV like "Scenes from a Marriage" is related to that longer piece through the presence of Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson (now 65 and 81) as a couple. It's even closer to "Faithless," the film Ullmann directed from a screenplay by Bergman in 2000. Now the two actors are Marianne and Johan, long-divorced spouses. She comes to visit him after 30 years of not seeing each other, and as she stays on for some weeks, his son and granddaughter, who live nearby, come into the picture with their problems.

Ultimately the center of "Saraband" is the granddaughter, a young woman with strong musical talent struggling to leave the nest. The title refers to one of the most haunting, simple, and sad segments of Bach's solo cello suites. The young lady who plays it is Karin (Julia Dufvenius), who's become a cellist like her father, Johan's despised son Henrik (Börje Ahlstedt). Henrik is tormented with sorrow over the loss of his wife Anna and the conflict over Karin's leaving is heightened by his need to cling to her in the absence of Anna.

The old folks are pretty spry and have no major health problems. Ullmann's still pretty and her face isn't so lost and anguished as it used to be. Marianne is still active as a lawyer. Josephson's character is a full-time jerk, but he's spry, mentally alive, and rich. He has moved out to a country place with fantastic views and lives in an old house right out of World of Interiors. The whole film has a soft color scheme and the shots are simple but glow. The weather is warm and sunny, and Marianne and Johan sit together out on the patio when she arrives and are soon holding hands and kissing. He soon unleashes a lot of sourness, but she stays on for a month or so. One isn't sure quite how she spends all this time though Henrik and Karin come back and forth for visits and we see them together at home in some scenes.

Bergman returns to his strong Strindbergian theatrical roots in Saraband, which is like stage chamber music, highly organized into named and numbered segments and with two people at a time on screen, Marianne occasionally addressing the camera in soliloquies. Like the Ullmann/Bergman collaboration "Faithless," "Saraband" has a lot of speeches ruminating over the past. They're devastatingly honest perhaps, but implausibly explanatory.

Though the panoramic view is lovely, we see it only briefly. The chamber music theme is borne out by the chambered settings. Only one lovely sequence is shot in a small country church blessed with a fine eighteenth-century organ on which Henrik plays Bach. This is one of the few places where the film opens up and allows music and facial expressions to speak rather than expository dialogue. A striking, and strange scene shows that Henrik and Karin now sleep in the same bed. The way the film begins and ends with Marianne sitting at a table strewn with large photos and everyone has the same one of Anna conveys a sense of people leafing back through their past. It's thanks to Karin that Saraband has a positive, hopeful thrust, and the strong, radiant Dufvenius brings light and energy into the picture.

Unfortunately there are no real surprises, and this final work is not cinematic like Bergman's earlier classics. One of the weaknesses is that though Karin weeps and vents, only her father Henrik seems really in torment and awakens sympathy and sadness in the audience. However sad and concerned with twilight and death critics may find the film to be, most of the characters come out relatively unscathed. We aren't devastated either, and all the angst washes over us without leaving a deep impression. This is a mature work by a great director and it is a fine film in its way, but it doesn't seem truly profound. Unfortunately like the late work of Bergman's great admirer Woody Allen it leaves an immediate good impression and then is quickly forgotten.

(Shown at the historic Castro Theater in San Francisco.)

From the very first frame, it's obvious Ingmar Bergman hasn't lost his touch. We're safe to settle back and give ourselves into the hands of somebody who knows how to entertain us. Liv Ulmann sets the standard for the ensemble, acting her ass off, as do the rest of the players, with only Julia Dufvenius perhaps chewing the scenery a little too much. Real cello players seldom have the time to study dance, which Dufvenius visibly has, and you could see her dreading having to fake playing the cello. But that's quibbling. She's a firecracker, and a match for anybody in this frighteningly good cast. Even Gunnel Fred, who appears fleetingly, does a little bit of business that is spot on.

Everybody in this movie excels, and yet the movie itself isn't enjoyable. The gamut of emotions is brilliantly realized, and yet that gamut runs from A to B. It is a piece by a master - a whole pack of masters, in fact - and yet it's not a masterpiece.

Worth seeing? Of course. But unless you have a formidable talent for depression, you may not enjoy it.

Technically speaking, this film is very well-made. The acting, cinematography and all the other aspects of this "little" film are excellent. However, it is important to point out that this type of film about people and relationships won't appeal to everyone--particularly those who demand a Hollywood-style film. Also, it is a sequel to director Bergman's ultra-famous SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE. Like this previous film, this movie was originally made for European TV but was later released as a feature film. Finally, while people might naturally expect that the relationship between the two original leads, Marianne and Johan (Liv Ullman and Erland Josephson), after the first portion of the film, the relationship between them seems to be only a starting point and the focus changes almost exclusively to the sick relationship between Josephson's son and grand-daughter. This wasn't BAD, but in a way it was sad because the scenes between Ullman and Josephson were wonderful and I wanted to see more or this--the acting was so real and these quiet moments were very slow but also very moving.

The bulk of the movie involves the sick relationship between Karin (the grand-daughter) and her father, Henrik. Since the death of Henrik's wife, he has placed all of his energy in training Karin to be a concert cellist. Instead of being his daughter, her needs are pretty much irrelevant to Henrik and she is a thing instead of a person. The viewer learns about this when Karin comes to her grandfather's house but finds that his ex-wife is the only one there. Although they have no blood relationship and don't know each other, Karin needs to talk and tells her how frustrating this relationship is with her father. Over the course of the film, however, you learn that this relationship is far more disturbing. Although it is not technically incestuous, the pair sleep in the same bed and late in the film, Henrik kisses Karin full on the mouth! Also, the emotional blackmail that he uses to control her is disturbing. This is a super-interesting film from a psychological standpoint though I am sure many in the audience will feel "creeped out" over it.

Sure, there's much more to this very talky movie than just this relationship. The interaction of Johan and Henrik is very sad--as both men are so totally self-absorbed and screwed up that they both seem incapable of a mature relationship with anyone. In addition, the film focuses a lot on despair and loneliness--certainly NOT surprising from a Bergman film! If you are looking for all the problems to be solved or have a deeper significance, then you WILL be disappointed. Alienation and despair are nothingness are indicative of Bergman's own philosophy and permeate the film. Exceptionally well-made but depressing--it's worth a look unless you have depression. In that case, the film's grimness might drive you over the edge!

"Saraband" is another one of those Bergman movies which, it seems, could all be fittingly entitled like that other movie of his, "Through a Glass Darkly". Making things perfectly clear, once considered an essential element of a successful literary creation, is by Bergman intentionally and carefully avoided. The story is simple: An old, long-divorced couple (Marianne and Johan) meets again; and Johan's son Henrik from another marriage, recently widowed, and their daughter Karin live nearby. A simple story of essentially four people, but oh so dark and contradictory are the feelings between them. Johan hates his son, for reasons we never learn. Yes, cash-strapped Henrik needs to ask his rich father time and again for an "advance on his inheritance", but this could not quite explain the father's disdain. Henrik the musician drills Karin on the cello and loves her madly, but won't let her move to a decent music school for her further education. Now this may not be quite so puzzling as it first appears when we learn in passing that they both sleep in the same bed, an arrangement none of the other two people on hand seem to perceive as unusual. While this tidbit may further Sweden's alluring reputation, the casual acceptance of this matter is in fact quite unrealistic, as this reviewer was assured by a reliable Swedish source (who even mentioned "jail"!) Karin's mother Anna, on her deathbed, may have had a hunch that something like this was in the wings, but again, we don't learn for sure, since Karin won't read to Marianne (and hence to us) the last page of her mother's farewell letter (which masterful move, incidentally, spared Bergman the writing of it).

We can't quite figure out what Karin's notion is about her domestic setup - does she hate the sex but loves daddy otherwise (whom she calls "Henrik", isn't' that cool?), or does she really only hate the daily cello drills (since she just wants to play in an orchestra rather than train to be a soloist, as we hear in her great emotional outburst)? Well, when she finally tells the old man that she's going to split, he attempts suicide. Of course, we can't be sure if it's successful. But hold it - taking all clues, there is a finite probability that it was not. Ah, now, will that persuade Karin to come back? What do you think this is, a documentary? That's the final mystery!

No, wait, there is one more: Marianne lets us know that she has a definite opinion about this whole affair. But she won't tell.

Some tedious writing avoided again!

Surely, Bergman smiled all the way to the bank.

I have to say that I found this acclaimed swan-song by a great film-maker to be, at best, third-rate Bergman; even the lesser efforts from his vintage period are a good deal preferable to it – at least, they showed a real cinematic sensibility…whereas this feels merely like a piece of filmed theatre (and not a very compelling one at that!).

Anyway, the plot follows on from Bergman’s much earlier SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE (1973; which I still haven’t watched because I can’t convince myself to willfully submit to 8 hours of misery!) – but, actually, the central situation here is almost a reprise of AUTUMN SONATA (1978)...only, it’s even less appetizing! The cast list is restricted to only 4 actors; another one, talked about during the course of the film, turns up in the last scene but her dialogue-less contribution lasts barely half-a-minute. Ironically, I was more drawn in by the performances of the two ‘new’ members of the Bergman stock company of actors and especially the young Julia Dufvenius (though Borje Ahlstedt was actually featured in 6 films written by the Swedish master as well as a TV mini-series, of these the only major title which had Bergman as director was FANNY AND Alexander [1982]) rather than those of old reliables Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson. We’ve seen these two do the ‘miserable routine’ too often to have all that much impact any longer: both are merely happy to acquiesce one last time to the will of the man who made their name – even if, for 80-year old Josephson, it also means having to appear in the nude!

The film isn’t bad per se, simply too harrowing – and, for lack of a better word, unreal (surely not what Bergman intended) – to be taken seriously; I, for one, readily admit to cackling out loud at every melodramatic turn taken by the narrative or in the middle of particularly intense stretches of dialogue! Incidentally, much has been said about the inconclusive endings in the films of Michelangelo Antonioni (who, as everyone knows, died on the same day as Bergman) – what about the ending of this one, then? We never get to know whether Karin was informed of her father’s attempted suicide and whether this eventually effected her career as a musician, or even what became of him after the fact, or why Josephson is suddenly unable to reply to Ullmann’s phone calls. Ultimately, the film emerges as a singularly pointless venture – and light years away from Bergman’s best work.

Saraband is, yes, a sequel to a 5-hour Swedish chamber drama made exactly 30 years earlier. That 5-hour Swedish chamber drama was and still is probably the best love story ever committed to film, essentially because it was the most basic, down-to-earth, everyday story; it took place in a particular culture, modern Sweden, but even if you live in South Africa or Cleveland or Tanzania one can clearly see oneself in spite of any cultural anachronisms. Saraband is a strange continuation of that story, in which the two initial characters, Johan and Marianne, played by Erland Josephson and Liv Ullmann, are not so much the focus but the eyes and ears reacting in their own ways to the disintegration of Johan's family, none of whom Marianne has met since she and he separated so many years ago.

The narrative follows a similar structure, much more condensed to be sure, and each scene is its own little vignette with its own little chapter heading. They are showcases of powerhouse acting, on account of not only Ullmann and Josephson, who in their 60s and 80s have yet to give a poor performance that I've ever seen, but also Borje Ahlstedt as Johan's broke and run-down widowed son Henrik, and the beautiful Julia Dufvenius as his trapped and defiant daughter Karin. In one scene between Henrik and his father, who shows us a side of him never before seen in such bare frankness, even in the triply long preceding film, Ahlstedt barely speaks, and yet he does so much more than Josephson with the silence he must use. Indeed, the modus operandi of each scene at large is soliloquy in the guise of two characters, one speaking while looking on and another listening deeply. Such stagy exposition is not at all characteristic of writer-director Ingmar Bergman, the very antithesis of this overtly theatrical form being the then 84-year-old master's original epic Scenes From a Marriage, which unfolded in the most natural possible way it had to, in the dialogue, in the settings, et. al.

But regardless of their contrivance, each scene is a self-contained achievement of various degrees of talent from the cast of no more than five actors in all. Bergman's swan song opens with his inimitable camera on Ullmann, his most consistent collaborator, standing by a table covered with photographs. It is a well-lit room, and she addresses us through the fourth wall. She picks up one picture after another, in no real order, just scattered all over the table. Some make her smile, or elicit a comment or a sigh. But then she picks up a photograph of Josephson. Seemingly, because she is the maternal ear and shoulder for each character who soon appears, she must have her own counsel, us if no one else.

There is a strange perspective to this film. It appears in general to imprint off of the original film, but it is instead an entirely separate one in spite of its dependence on the original. Ullmann will periodically turn to us for an aside, but we soon forget for many long stretches that it is, or could be, her story, as the camera shares secret moments with every character. The film hardly depicts, or believes in, any kind of actual resolution. Saraband begins by permanently changing our view of the original film's story as it was left three decades before, and ends with just as much certainty as the original did three decades before. Perhaps it is a reflection of old age; that seems to be the significance of the deliberate and extensive soliloquys.

There are movies whose main interest is to explore the raw and the subtler nuances that modulate the experience of human interaction, and that truly push the envelope as far as the intimate rendering of a relationship, be it romantic, family-oriented or something else, with great insight and a thoughtful approach to the dynamics of deep emotional reach. Such works of art rely and directly depend on a somewhat delicate coordination between a tactful director and a solid acting crew that is capable to translating the intricate web of connections as a believable, albeit dramatic, study on emotional responses.

All this and more can be found in Saraband, Bergman's final work and a stunning adieu it is. In this movie, F. Scott Fitzgerald's statement is taken to the extreme: Character IS plot. Dealing with the highly volatile intercession of relationships, Saraband is about one's love for music, one's coming to term with adulthood, one's reckoning of the past, a portrait of loss, pain and anguish that are not sweetened to better accommodate the viewer's notions of "movie glamour" but are displayed in all their naked impact.

Most scenes take their time to unwind their narrative dimension, strengthened by a selection of images that mostly takes character as its pivotal point and is not afraid to unravel extreme feelings before an audience that almost forgets the artistry involved, so life-like is the spell. Few are the movies that make away with all the artificial (although in many times, necessary and not harmful) apparatus to frame a self-conscious scenic piece, to the point that the viewer does almost become either a voyeur or a passive and ever silent character.

This is a movie made with words as well as through skillfully handled images, the act of telling- of expressing one's mind, often distraught and disturbed- is a step towards closure, to confess is to gain power over one's destiny.

Ultimately, Saraband is about choice: and how to save one's self one must damn those one loves and hates the most. Because happiness is always a compromise and to grow up a few strings must the severed and blood must be shed.

Incest, betrayal, violence and the dissolving power of time unfurl their horrors in a quiet, true to life and visceral way that leaves nothing untouched and is not afraid to clash with the viewer even as it lulls him into believing the tale told in shades of memorable experiences that both scar and liberate.

Above all, Saraband is not afraid to show us old age without playing soft romantic hues over a harsh, yet ever touching, reality; it isn't afraid to explore how filial love and be twisted around itself and become a strangling force without ceasing to be love; it isn't afraid to drive its characters to the extreme without alleviating such nerve racking disclosures via movie-gimmicks; it isn't afraid to show loss can be all pervasive and a shadow out of which some never do emerge: just as it isn't afraid to show how, at times, a few precious moments of empathy are enough to make up for everything.

And, perhaps, in its honesty and courageous interpretation of life, Saraband gives us happy endings they ought to be presented more often: intervals of sunshine in a sombre landscape, all deeds pertaining to happiness and emancipation having also a downside of sacrifice.

Brilliant, in a word.

It depresses me that no other director can claim the status and authority of Ingmar Bergman. He seems, even in old age, to continue to have the monopoly on truly artistic, mature, urgent film-making. A pleasure to watch, Saraband, if it is his last film, is a beautiful and powerful swan-song. The study of character and relationships is subtle, detailed and - here is what makes Bergman really great in my opinion - true. Bergman the son of a Lutheran minister, has always addressed spiritual and of course existential themes in his movies, and Saraband is no exception. All his characters seem more or less consciously persecuted by a fear of divine retribution for the extent to which their lives have been false. At one point Henrik, a truly tragic son, exclaims that "sometimes I think a great punishment awaits me". Henrik's relationship to his rejecting father is masterfully portrayed, and is deeply harrowing to anyone who can sense the many layers of meaning that surround our ordinary, daily exchanges. What perhaps makes Saraband different from other Bergman films, is a gesture towards a deeper acceptance of the Divine Mystery behind all our lives, despite the neurotic failure to relate, and the deep, unresolved conflict and trauma so characteristic of Bergman characters. I'm genuinely grateful that Bergman is still around, making films like this - but why can't there be more directors concerned with these themes?