Bergman by way of Woody was of a deceptive outcome with Interiors. Oh yes, the quietude of whom they refer to as ‘The Master’ was nicely emulated. But there is a pain in a Swedish face that is not as cinematic as a Jewish-American one (Mary Beth Hurt excepted). Plus, our bearded men do not appear as noble.
Transport this method to the British, and it holds together surprisingly well.
This is of course, minor Bergman, and major Woody. I guess it works as a nice lesson for emerging film lovers, while our man Allen gets to pay tribute and do some work that fits particularly well in a cinephile canon of ‘spiritual cinema’ most often attributed to aging directors.
But the upcoming “Scoop” is supposed to be funny. “Melinda and Melinda” exploited explicitely this duality.
Man, do we know of any other director constantly making such personal work? (If it is good or not is not the point).
But back to our flick. Note how when the Swedish method is used, a kissing scene in the rain gives way to an entirely different experience. Underlying notions of morals, the viscerality of the actors, it taps into some quite vicious nuances.
I suspect that Bergman’s intentions have always been partially to intice viewers into a philosophical/moral debate on the movie, most often around a cup of wine. Towards this, I feel a sheer excitement. Here we have a man of human concerns, who instead of painting eloquent speeches amongst bourgeois gatherings, decides to make a fucking piece of art about it, and not any art, but FILM, a laborious entreprise.
I admire Woody for doing the same, but as a direct comment on Bergman. A nice Godardian feat. Cinema for cinephiles.