Faithless is the latest in a series of collaborations between Ingmar Bergman, the figurehead of Swedish cinema, and the star of many of his films and one-time lover Liv Ullmann. Here Ullmann expertly directs Bergman's semi-autobiographical screenplay, a catharsis inspired by his own experiences with long-time lover Gun Hagberg. Yet this is very much Ullmann's film; Bergman is said to have stayed away almost entirely from the set and the intimacy of Ullmann's delivery is evidence of knowledge at one remove from its source.
The film centres on the reminiscences of an elderly writer called Bergman (played with charged restraint by Erland Josephson) as he pieces together the threads of a narrative, albeit one that may be entirely fictitious. It is inspired by the character of his old love Marianne, played by Lena Endre who almost single-handedly carries us through every conceivable thrill and torture of illicit love.
We observe Marianne's affair with narcissistic theatre-director David (Krister Henriksson) but are offered no clues as to her motivation or the difficulties that may exist in her marriage to brilliant composer Markus (Thomas Hanzon). Of David's casual invitation to enter the maelström, she responds to his existential doom by declaring "it's fun", accompanied by the first real smile of the piece. Yet as the joys of innocent and guilty love turn to the horrors of marital rupture, focusing largely upon the custody (rather than the emotional state) of Lena and Markus's nine-year-old daughter Isabelle (Michelle Gylemo), Ullmann succeeds in presenting the very personal nature of this particular tragedy.
It is the manner in which the tale is told that is both the most disturbing and enchanting aspect of the work. The simply stylised 'sessions' between Bergman and Marianne during which the drama unfolds evoke the solitude of the writer's painful therapy. The warm glows of the pine studio contrast with the wintry seashore landscape barely visible through his one small window. A bare wall facing his desk invites the reception of the film that might one day be screened from the projector constantly at his shoulder. These scenes with his muse are contrasted with the rich colours of the hotel in Paris were Marianne and David begin their tryst. Throughout, the cinematic, or rather theatrical, compositions of the protagonists are playfully borne out in their own situations: at what appears to be the end of their very temporary dangerous liaison, David declares "what a lousy scene we're in"; when Markus intrudes upon the lovers in time-honoured fashion, each of the three are posed as they would be in classical farce, further attested to by the giggles that cannot David and Marianne cannot contain.
More significantly, however, is the manner in which the unfolding twists of emotional blackmail and parental irresponsibility highlight the moral ambiguity of all of the 'characters'; each seems to invite the empathy of the viewer while disallowing any real voluntary identification, unless of course the events depicted do touch on personal experience. And this is the most powerful element of the film - it is about people, what people do, to themselves and to those they love. It is also very explicitly about regret and remorse, solitude and mortality, and, in this case, shame. The threads seem to come together when David takes the place of Marianne in Bergman's 'therapy-room'. Here he acknowledges his guilt, his responsibility for losing Marianne by denying her his love when her marriage disintegrates and tragedy befalls their house. Bergman reaches out to stroke David's cheek in an act of (self) forgiveness, before turning away in a harrowing silent scream.
Faithless is a rare thing; a brutally honest meditation upon the things that make us all too human. It is a serious, intelligent and adult work about infidelity and self-confession that effortlessly uses the unique medium of cinema to present storytelling at its visceral best.
Reviewed by Yoram Allon
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