Ingmar Bergman's The Silence has remained at the forefront of my good graces, despite the constant influx and exposure to new movies. The film is a dark specter, it's presence has never faded. I got cozy with the film for the first time back as a sophomore in college - it was an indirect discovery, as I had purchased the movie as part of Bergman's famed trilogy of the '60s. Although I had gotten the box set for Winter Light (which remains one of my all time favorites), I discovered that The Silence remained true to Bergman's idea of stark minimalism - no music, small sets, few characters - the delivery of which was equivalent to being hit in the stomach with a bag of bricks. Naturally, I mean that in the best way, as these particular bricks are made of acute, tactile observations on the nature of sex, family, death and relationships.
It was very gratifying to revisit the two disparate sisters of The Silence, Ester and Anna. Ester, the older sister, is a terminally ill translator who is traveling home in hopes of dying in a familiar place. She is accompanied by Anna, her anxious, spiteful sister, and Anna's curious child, Johan. The three cut their journey short when Ester gets sick on the train. Laying up in a local hotel for a few days, the fragile relationship between the sisters begins to unravel. Johan is forced to create his own world in Anna's absence, exploring the hotel to distract himself from the isolation.
I often use the The Silence (along with Persona and Cries and Whispers) as an example in my theory that Ingmar Bergman was one of the best horror filmmakers in addition to being one of the best drama filmmakers. Shot in beautiful black and white, with flowing pans and very little angle movement, the film's drama is escalated by simple (but effective) elements of tension and disturbance. Brooding chimes, recurring clock ticks and darkened rooms punctuate the unraveling sanity of Ester and the vindictive sexuality of Anna. Bergman is careful to never fully reveal the source of anxiety between the sisters. Instead, he drips in little sneers and accusations, like Anna falsely confessing to a random act of sex or Ester tripping some sticky guilt on Anna, saying "Go, then. While your conscience lets you", right before Anna heads out to indulge herself.
Gunnel Lindblom does a good job portraying Anna as a devilish and distracted upstart, but it's Ingrid Thulin who steals the show as the desperate, dejected Ester. It's hard not to become enraptured by Thulin's subtle mannerisms - her rueful grins and tortured lip bites make you feel the tumorous regret in her situation. The two sisters always seem to be searching for the best way to tear each others heart out, but in each there is a deep, underlying desire to be loved, acknowledged and approved of. In one of the climatic scenes of the film, Ester confronts Anna during her sex-fest with a complete stranger. Anna barks and lashes out at Ester, telling her that her moral, intellectual lifestyle is a meaningless way to live. At first, Ester is disturbed but she soon realizes that Anna's outburst is a reflection of her insecurity, and perhaps, a cry for help.
One thing I noticed about The Silence this time around, was Bergman's second focus - Johan. Johan provides a bit of comic relief and comfort for Ester, but ultimately the boy is resigned to aimlessly wander the hotel. He interacts with a fumbling old bellhop and a troupe of performers, all of whom are little people. These are interesting diversions and some of it feeds back into the main narrative of the two sisters (Anna watches the little people perform at one point, the bellhop takes care of Ester), however, these sequences slightly dilute the power of the sister's fire and brimstone. I can understand wanting to exemplify the boy's isolation due to his mother's negligence, but the sequences take too long to resolve themselves and you find yourself wondering when you'll see Ester and Anna go at it once again.
I also noticed recurring images of tanks and allusions to a military presence in the small sweaty town where the action takes place. While I believe this was primarily to show the lack of culture and the abundance of repressive government in the town, it's hard not to draw comparisons to the tension and conflict between Ester and Anna. Unfortunately, it just seems a bit too on-the-chin, especially for Bergman in this particular portion of his career. The images are memorable, particularly the silhouettes of the tanks Johan sees on the train, but they don't provide anything that isn't already crystal clear.
So, even with a bit of extra fat, The Silence is still an intense drama with the audio/visual decorum of a subtle horror film. I prefer the creeping disturbance of a film like this to the shlocky thrills of most "proper" psychological horror films. Bergman's first true love may have been drama, but he realized many times in his career, including The Silence, the greatest horror can manifest itself from fractured relationships.
