Autumn SonataFamily can conceal bitter resentment that lurks beneath the surface, but not forever--and the longer it brews, the more furious the storm when the pain is released. Autumn Sonata is a portrait of the respective suffering felt between a mother and her daughter, Charlotte (Ingrid Bergman) and Eva (Liv Ullmann). Eva invites her mother to the home she shares with her husband, Viktor (Halvar Björk), and her semi-paralyzed sister, Helena (Lena Nyman), in the hopes of reconciling the deeply felt sorrow and embitterment toward one another from a lifetime of emotional distance. But sometimes, wounds must be reopened to heal properly, as does the pain accompanying their mutual confessions.
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With few exceptions, Autumn Sonata focuses on the tense and increasingly emotional conversations between Eva and Charlotte. Victor narrates a preamble to the film, in which he speaks of how he watches his wife in silence and admires her efforts to learn to live and how to love life. In part, Viktor refers to the still present grief they share for the loss of their son, Erik, who drowned at the age of four. It also refers to his understanding of how the emotional detachment Charlotte inflicted upon his wife has affected her at a deep level, like a stain that can never fully be removed. It's crucial to understand just how significant a parent is in the upbringing of a child during the formative years, not just with respect to love but social education. Eva now realizes just what kind of damage Charlotte had done to her by her mother's inability to commit to her family, and this stings Eva like a hot poker. But children all long for the love of their parents, willing to suffer and endure humiliation and torture for their love. Thus, against her better judgment, she invites Charlotte to stay and expectantly hopes that their visit will be one of open reconciliation. Charlotte is also in the midst of a grieving period for her most recent late husband, Leonardo (Georg Løkkeberg), and she recalls these final moments she spent at the hospital with him, though her tone and body language in the flashbacks suggest more annoyance than grief. Charlotte balks at the idea of being around her other daughter, Helena, due to her disease which makes her difficult to understand, and appears completely bereft of a mother's softness and affection--what little she displays is obviously forced. Charlotte is obviously inadequate at providing for her family's emotional needs; she is, in this respect, a poor mother, even though professionally she is a world-renowned pianist. Charlotte marks time and crucial events in her life not as a mother should--by the association with her family--but by noteworthy performances across Europe. She is committed to her profession with such determination and fervor that it becomes apparent that she is not used to accepting failure, and runs from her responsibilities as a parent because she is ineffectual at it. She comments on Eva's performance of Chopin that what her interpretation lacks is an understanding of Chopin as a person, and how that is crucial to delivering a sympathetic performance; surely the irony is not lost on Eva.
The initial series of emotional feints and jabs is the proverbial calm before the storm. Charlotte and Eva convey an attitude of guarded civility at first, although in private express their frustrations and gird themselves for a combat of emotion sure to come. One night, after Charlotte awakens from a nightmare--suggested to be one of many, given her insomnia--she and Eva open the floodgates over glasses of cognac, as Eva pours out her soul and the pain she suffered from her mother's distance and inadequacy. It is in the middle of the night, the light of a lamp illuminating them, and the shadows of the past haunting them like the shadows cast in the late hours. Theirs is like a tug of war, pulling back and forth for more sympathy and understanding, trying to make the other understand the reasons their pain is real and why the other is responsible for it. It is a round of dueling confessions performed in the middle of the night, the only time when such devastating outcries of the soul can be heard. Autumn Sonata is also remembered as the sole pairing of cinema's two most beloved "Bergmans"--Ingrid Bergman as Charlotte in the film by Ingmar Bergman. Like many works by Ingmar Bergman, the most intense action is emotional and spiritual, even more than cerebral; it is something that must be felt and is immediately identifiable to those who sympathize. The pain that comes with the disintegration of familial expectations is similar to his film, Cries and Whispers, but the visual tropes also recall films like Persona or Winter Light, such as when a letter Eva intends to send to Charlotte is read by Viktor, and Eva's face is shown in an intimate closeup, speaking the written words, cutting away to Charlotte's face in response. The battle of Autumn Sonata is one where Eva is truly on the offensive, laying siege to the adamant wall built up between her and her mother, beating on the exterior with an arsenal of guilt and heartache to get through. It is a war of the mother and daughter, where parlay has failed; as the denouement reveals, they ultimately don't even speak the same language--and all that implies.
Recommended for: Fans of an emotional drama--a chamber piece for the most part--about the pains of a child who has not been loved as a child needs to be loved by a parent too afraid to do so. It is a heartfelt experience about a very natural, identifiable family dysfunction.
The initial series of emotional feints and jabs is the proverbial calm before the storm. Charlotte and Eva convey an attitude of guarded civility at first, although in private express their frustrations and gird themselves for a combat of emotion sure to come. One night, after Charlotte awakens from a nightmare--suggested to be one of many, given her insomnia--she and Eva open the floodgates over glasses of cognac, as Eva pours out her soul and the pain she suffered from her mother's distance and inadequacy. It is in the middle of the night, the light of a lamp illuminating them, and the shadows of the past haunting them like the shadows cast in the late hours. Theirs is like a tug of war, pulling back and forth for more sympathy and understanding, trying to make the other understand the reasons their pain is real and why the other is responsible for it. It is a round of dueling confessions performed in the middle of the night, the only time when such devastating outcries of the soul can be heard. Autumn Sonata is also remembered as the sole pairing of cinema's two most beloved "Bergmans"--Ingrid Bergman as Charlotte in the film by Ingmar Bergman. Like many works by Ingmar Bergman, the most intense action is emotional and spiritual, even more than cerebral; it is something that must be felt and is immediately identifiable to those who sympathize. The pain that comes with the disintegration of familial expectations is similar to his film, Cries and Whispers, but the visual tropes also recall films like Persona or Winter Light, such as when a letter Eva intends to send to Charlotte is read by Viktor, and Eva's face is shown in an intimate closeup, speaking the written words, cutting away to Charlotte's face in response. The battle of Autumn Sonata is one where Eva is truly on the offensive, laying siege to the adamant wall built up between her and her mother, beating on the exterior with an arsenal of guilt and heartache to get through. It is a war of the mother and daughter, where parlay has failed; as the denouement reveals, they ultimately don't even speak the same language--and all that implies.
Recommended for: Fans of an emotional drama--a chamber piece for the most part--about the pains of a child who has not been loved as a child needs to be loved by a parent too afraid to do so. It is a heartfelt experience about a very natural, identifiable family dysfunction.