The Silence (1963)

 Ingmar Bergman's "The Silence"

There's something very bemusing about Ingmar Bergman's 1963 film "The Silence." Based on the title, along with the notion that it is the final installment in a trilogy of films centered around 'the absence of God,' I went in believing that it would be emotionally devastated. What I received instead was confusion. Typically, this is a turn off for people. Not I. Confusion, as long as it doesn't signify a convolution in the plot, allows me to enjoy the film on an emotionally deeper level. Despite not completely understanding "The Silence," I was enthralled by it. 

Because the film was released in a post-"Hiroshima Mon Amour," post-"L'Avventura" world, Bergman gets to craft something with a bit of modernity. By this, I mean the 'plot' is a bit more like the anti-plots found in an Antonioni film. 

Two sisters, one with a 10-year-old son, arrive at a hotel in a fictional central European city on the brink of war. The eldest sister, Ester, is a literary translator dying of an illness. The other, Anna, is a mother who coldly assists her. Events unfold, but not to the adherence of commonality of theme: the young boy wanders the hotel, Anna wanders about town, and Ester sits in her room struggling with her illness and alcoholism. The various interactions between these family members demonstrates a turmoil, particularly between the sisters. Ester is intelligent and bookish while Anna is more interested in sensory experiences. Because of their differences and some undisclosed family issues, they seethe with resentment and jealousy over each other. Anna eventually leaves her sister to die in the hotel.

What's most bemusing about "The Silence" is its lack of thematic explanation. Because of its enigmatic nature, there have been innumerable interpretations on the film. Woody Allen once wrote a piece for "The New York Times" illustrating his hypothesis that Ester and Anna represent two conflicting sides of a single woman, much akin to Bergman's follow-up, "Persona." English Professor Leo Braudy shares in this hypothesis, further elaborating that Anna represents the physical and Ester represents the intellectual. 

Another possible interpretation of the film, as Braudy also posits, is that Anna and Ester have an incestuous relationship. I also picked up on that and held that notion, which I based on their behavior towards each other, along with some mysterious family issues. Their jealousy could be interpreted through this lens, along with some of the questionable comments Ester makes to Anna's son, Johan. 

Bergman himself once contextualized the film in comparison to the other films in the trilogy. He wrote, "these three films deal with reduction. 'Through a Glass Darkly' - conquered certainty. 'Winter Light' - penetrated certainty. 'The Silence' - God's silence - the negative imprint." Attempting to view the film through a lens of 'a negative imprint' only makes it more puzzling. 

I feel that any attempt to interpret and analyze only achieves greater uncertainty, which is largely the greater point. I am redirecting a quote by Susan Sontag by saying that any reach at interpretation 'expresses a lack of response to what is there on screen.' This is precisely the point. There are no easy interpretation or answers. Bergman gleefully denies the viewer any context. I think this is what Bergman means by a 'negative imprint.' The search for truth and understanding is only our interpretation of a truth hidden from us. What we are seeing on screen in the negative imprint of something. Our desires for easy explanation is never satisfied. We scrape away at meaning but only come away with half-baked ideas and notions not fully reconciled to the picture.

The mundanity of it all and the utter emptiness, loneliness, and lack of plot-driven action only adds to the bewilderment and lack of meaning. There is a meaninglessness to the plot, to the behavior by the characters, and to the larger thematic point. Because of this, the film feels very cold and uncaring. It doesn't pander or satisfy, it ultimately rejects. It feels lifeless and meaningless. 

One would think that these artistic ventures for Bergman would result in audience disapproval or dismissal. On the contrary, the film attracted 100,000 viewers per week on its initial released. This shocked Bergman, who warned the CEO of the Swedish Film Institute, Kenne Fant, "you might as well realize, this isn't a film that will have people storming the theaters." The irony of it being a resounding success only adds to my bewilderment of the film. 

There are many who believe that the high audience turnout is due largely to the film's explicit and blunt depiction of nudity and sex. Anna is seen naked in a very frank and un-sensational way, like in the scene where she is bathing herself. Ester, while alone, engages in masturbation. A couple at the theater have full sex in front of Anna. These visuals are not pornographic in any way, however. Rather, they are more simply depicted as nonchalantly as possible. There are many film scholars who believe this unflinching depiction of sex and nudity was an attempt to normalize these things for film. Surprisingly, the film went through the censorship board of Sweden without any cuts.

While I don't fully grasp the context of "The Silence," the relationship I have with the ambiguity and uncertainty of the film becomes far more important than anything plot-related on screen. It is a film that offers no simplicity or explanation to its meanderings and sufferings. It is a film is represented more through a feeling, a texture, or an emotion than any coherent narrative. For this reason, it joins the ranks of 1960s pieces that fit into the genre of 'modern films,' like the films of Antonioni or Resnais. Because of this, "The Silence" marks a significant turning point in Bergman's career. It would lead him to make his unyielding masterpiece and perhaps the greatest film ever made, 1966's "Persona."