Relentlessly discursive and somber, also hauntingly elliptical and exquisitely crafted. CRIES examines three sisters, one of whom is dying, and the robust family retainer who cares for them. Bergman uses the four women as metaphors for humanity, respresenting how we respond to anxiety,
death, and the visitations of what appears to be a wrathful rather than benevolent God.
Thulin (the standout in an ensemble of breathtaking performances) is on the brink of suicide and, we learn, once mutilated her own genitalia rather than honor her marital vows. The earthy Ullmann (never more beautiful) once had an affair over which her husband attempted suicide. Sylwan is the glue
that holds these Chekhovian sisters together. She can accept God's will and imparts her fatalistic viewpoint to the dying Andersson (Agnes). The former lost a child early in life and has come to terms with death--neither hard nor bad, just a new voyage. Andersson, in terrible pain, cannot fully
accept this view; still, she is much closer to the housekeeper than she is to her sisters.
There are many moments in the film during which nothing is said, and the silence is more eloquent than any words might have been. Nonetheless, sound plays a huge role in the movie, as Bergman uses ticking clocks, rustling dresses, sighs, cries and whispers to make his points. Bergman and
cinematographer Sven Nykvist move the camera with remarkable fluidity, the beauty of their visuals contrasting pointedly with the almost unbearably stark subject matter. leave a comment