Impressions of January: 'Cries and Whispers'

I watched Ingmar Bergman’s seminal work Cries and Whispers two times this week. I can’t really account for why other than, I’m trying to not deny any instinct I have, no matter how small or insignificant. I’m learning to trust myself again. But that’s another topic entirely.

Last week, I was working through a short film idea, and part of that process for me is to watch any existing title that comes up, and Meshes of the Afternoon and Cries and Whispers both came to me as reference points for this project. Also last week, I quit my job and completely deleted my X, Instagram, and Facebook accounts.

I ended up doing my Cries and Whispers rewatch on Monday night and it remains a film like no other, producing out of nothing a tether between my television screen and the innermost regions of my subconscious. Its use of the color red, the color of passion, of pain, of pussy, juxtaposed against stark whites and silky blacks; its use of close-up, both those in the traditional long lens and, when called upon, the profoundly unsettling, distorted wide lens close-ups.

The film possesses gestures, sonically and visually, that certainly came from Bergman’s own subconscious: the direct address to camera, used multiple times in multiple ways—Liv Ullmann’s narcissistic Maria indulging in her visage, frightened of the subtle ways time has begun to ravage her face and body; Ingrid Thulin’s stalwart Karin challenging everyone, including the audience, to get inside of her; Harriet Andersson’s all-seeing Agnes letting the audience know that she does see her sisters for who they really are.

Last night, I was trying to pick a movie, and Cries and Whispers was still in the Blu-ray player, and I thought, fuck it, who can stop me? I smashed that play button. Even less than 48 hours later I had another rapturous viewing experience. In fact, I would say I was even more overcome with emotion on last night’s viewing; I was jacked in. I would say, at my least generous, it is one of the single dozen greatest films ever made.

Further, the film contains what is perhaps my single favorite scene in any movie: towards the end of the film, after Agnes has died¹, Maria begs Karin for her confidence and Maria delicately strokes her face and body in a way that is both maternal and erotic, practically pressed against, imprisoned by, the monochromatic blood red wall behind them. Karin physically recoils and yells “don’t touch me!” and “don’t you know that I hate you?”²

But Karin doesn’t mean it, she just has so many walls up after a lifetime of suffering.³ Karin eventually chooses to meet Maria where she is and they talk all night about the deepest parts of themselves; we do not get to hear their conversation, but we see them fervently speaking to each other, petting each other, listening with urgency, finally surrendering to the fact that the room is a literal womb and they are safe to be open.

After Agnes’ funeral, the sisters say their farewells. Karin is still vulnerable and undefended, but Maria has closed herself off, asking “why are you demanding I account for every thought?” causing an even deeper psychic wound in Karin, duped and betrayed once again by her cruel sister’s whims. Who doesn’t know what it’s like to be as close as you can ever be with another soul, be it a sibling or lover or friend, only to have that intimacy jarringly withheld as soon as the sun comes up?⁴

I have nothing to say of Anna (Kari Sylwan) at this moment, but rest assured, I find her face and quietly sad⁵ energy as much of an utter miracle as any of the women playing the sisters. Cries and Whispers is ultimately a film about the astounding faces of these four women, the pain that flushes their cheeks, the flicks of anger and fear in the most minuscule of eye movements, the true if fleeting moments of joy and peace in their physicality. It’s a miracle movie. Maybe I will watch it again tonight.

Not me taking pictures of my television screen like it’s a concert!

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As mentioned in passing above, I have quit my job. I have decided to focus on my filmmaking full-time, and have just enough in my savings to make that viable for all of 2025. People keep asking if I am scared or anxious to take the leap, and I’m not at all. I’ve never been happier in my life.

I intend to share updates on my work here and perhaps I will even share the work itself here—photos, shorts, and collages, etc. Fun! Right now I’m focused on the short that inspired my Cries and Whispers viewing, and an unrelated feature film script. The short I hope to shoot in March, and that I probably will post it directly to Substack when it’s done later this summer.

But given that I will not have an income for the foreseeable future, please consider upgrading your membership to support me economically :) I promise I will write more if you do.

1. Before anyone comes at me, this is not a spoiler. If you are going into a Bergman the premise of which is that Harriet Andersson is dying of cancer, you know she will be dead of cancer before the end of the movie. You know it.

2. Literally me lol

3. Again: me

4. Do I really need to say “me” again

5. Though, unlike the sisters, Anna is not in turmoil. She has made peace with her suffering, accepted it.