PersonaWhat is it that defines us as individuals, makes us stand out as unique among others of the human race? It is our personality--our soul--which give each of us agency and identity. Ingmar Bergman's Persona explores more than that ephemeral quality which is the exterior we show the world--the mask which is how we want others to see us--it explores the deeper parts of character which makes one a human being...and how one can transform from one person into another, soul and all. Even more, the movie does not shy away from approaching this abstraction from further back, addressing the idea that we too are actively involved in this transmutation of identity by our role as the audience.
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In many ways, the plot of Persona is merely the skeletal framework upon which Bergman rests his abstract masterpiece. Popular stage actress Elisabet Vogler (Liv Ullmann) suddenly goes completely silent one day, refusing to talk with anyone, and is admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Sister Alma (Bibi Andersson) is assigned to attend to Elisabet, to see to her well-being and attempt to assuage her idiosyncratic behavior. As the two retreat to a seaside cabin, Alma opens up to Elisabet, sharing intimate details of her life with her. The two adopt similarities in behavior, in manner--and over time--in attitude and even more psychological aspects. Persona is open to a diverse spectrum of interpretation, meaning that what is may be more than what we see. Alma's attachment to Elisabet makes her appear as a kind of hanger-on, leeching off of Elisabet's strength to feel more complete, an ironic turn of events considering Alma's job was to repair Elisabet. At one point, Alma has been betrayed by Elisabet, who confesses in a letter to another that she has been watching Alma to get ideas for her own performance, even disclosing painfully personal details about Alma to a stranger. Yet Alma's response is not to rise above, but to sink deeper, even going so far as to hurt Elisabet in a parody of her profession. What is more revealing about this story is that there is a sense that much more is being disclosed than what is actually portrayed. In between scenes of drama between the two women, there are moments which indicate that the two of them are engaged in some kind of psychic merging or even a spiritual vampirism. Take the scene when Alma confronts Elisabet about the photo of her son; rather than asking Elisabet what happened--because she won't get an answer anyways--she tells Elisabet the story. How would she know what happened in Elisabet's life? I suspect that by this juncture, the two have formed such a close bond, that psychically, they are one and the same person. So then, why is this very same scene repeated back to back, though with a different perspective? Here too, I suspect that each one is interpreting the story to fit their needs, to define their character. Since Elisabet has abandoned her soul, Alma takes control and makes it her own.
Persona opens with a barrage of violent and shocking imagery, jarring and off-putting. Flashes of images from the initial projector include a man's penis, some film of an animated movie, people in monster movie getups, animals being slaughtered, and a crucifixion. Why the imagery so disconnected from the main plot of the movie? Because the real story of Persona has less to do with the emotional dysfunction between a nurse and her patient; the film is completely self aware of what a movie is, and how it affects its audience, just as how Alma and Elisabet affect one another. A film is the art of moving pictures telling some kind of story, even if the narrative isn't a traditional one. As we go to the movies, we experience a tale, which--like it or not--has a transformative effect on us, altering our perception in one way or another. This is like how Alma views Elisabet, changing her behavior to match the star, and also how Elisabet views Alma, watching intently, considering her behavior, studying her; if Alma is the cinephile, Elisabet is the film critic. Even more interesting is that it might just be that Elisabet is quiet because she is acutely aware that her life--and the lives of those around her--may be simply a world on the silver screen. This is consistent with the earlier part of the film (and conclusion) with a young boy watching on a projected screen the face of Elisabet. As he views her, watches her, the movie begins, and we can draw a conclusion that Elisabet's story is one which this boy is watching like a movie...because it is. Even at the conclusion, there is a startling shot of a camera crew filming part of the movie we are watching, and we realize that the fourth wall was less stable than we though. The bookending of movie imagery directly involves us as the audience to consider what effect Persona has had on us, and how it has altered our perception and especially our soul, just as Alma's involvement with Elisabet has done with her. We draw our personalities from the world around us, molding our behavior; we take for granted that others expect that kind of act. Like Elisabet, we are all actors filling the roles which we have been prescribed so that we may live our lives. Sometimes, we get these lessons from movies, molding us and transforming us into avatars of these cinematic archetypes; Persona asserts as much.
Recommended for: Fans of an abstract psychological tale of personality appropriation amid a kind of self-aware film commentary about our role as a voyeuristic film crowd, who can get a good chuckle about how knowingly clever the film is in its metaphor for our instinct to change ourselves because we like what we saw, not who we are...whatever that really is.
Persona opens with a barrage of violent and shocking imagery, jarring and off-putting. Flashes of images from the initial projector include a man's penis, some film of an animated movie, people in monster movie getups, animals being slaughtered, and a crucifixion. Why the imagery so disconnected from the main plot of the movie? Because the real story of Persona has less to do with the emotional dysfunction between a nurse and her patient; the film is completely self aware of what a movie is, and how it affects its audience, just as how Alma and Elisabet affect one another. A film is the art of moving pictures telling some kind of story, even if the narrative isn't a traditional one. As we go to the movies, we experience a tale, which--like it or not--has a transformative effect on us, altering our perception in one way or another. This is like how Alma views Elisabet, changing her behavior to match the star, and also how Elisabet views Alma, watching intently, considering her behavior, studying her; if Alma is the cinephile, Elisabet is the film critic. Even more interesting is that it might just be that Elisabet is quiet because she is acutely aware that her life--and the lives of those around her--may be simply a world on the silver screen. This is consistent with the earlier part of the film (and conclusion) with a young boy watching on a projected screen the face of Elisabet. As he views her, watches her, the movie begins, and we can draw a conclusion that Elisabet's story is one which this boy is watching like a movie...because it is. Even at the conclusion, there is a startling shot of a camera crew filming part of the movie we are watching, and we realize that the fourth wall was less stable than we though. The bookending of movie imagery directly involves us as the audience to consider what effect Persona has had on us, and how it has altered our perception and especially our soul, just as Alma's involvement with Elisabet has done with her. We draw our personalities from the world around us, molding our behavior; we take for granted that others expect that kind of act. Like Elisabet, we are all actors filling the roles which we have been prescribed so that we may live our lives. Sometimes, we get these lessons from movies, molding us and transforming us into avatars of these cinematic archetypes; Persona asserts as much.
Recommended for: Fans of an abstract psychological tale of personality appropriation amid a kind of self-aware film commentary about our role as a voyeuristic film crowd, who can get a good chuckle about how knowingly clever the film is in its metaphor for our instinct to change ourselves because we like what we saw, not who we are...whatever that really is.