Shame (1968)War doesn't just threaten our lives--it threatens our very souls. Shame (1968) is an anti-war film depicting its devastating effects on a young married couple, Jan Rosenberg (Max von Sydow) and his wife, Eva (Liv Ullmann). Both Jan and Eva are erstwhile musicians, who used to perform in the symphony prior to its implied dissolution (or destruction) as a result of the nameless war that has affected their country. One day, the distant war comes to their rural island, turning their home into a war zone. In the chaos, Jan and Eva must cope with the cataclysmic aftermath, suffering the terrible consequences it has on their marriage and their hearts.
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Written and directed by Ingmar Bergman, Shame is bleak, harrowing, and violent, which is shocking considering how rare this is compared with the rest of his work. Shame does not shirk the emotional drama and psychological tension between its characters, and the convincing interplay between Jan and Eva in smaller, more subtle moments make the grotesque last act all the more appalling and visceral. There is a pervading tension in Shame; it starts in darkness with the sounds of machine gun fire and the recorded broadcasts of warmongers rallying their armies, including Adolf Hitler. Even after the cacophonic credits yield, the tumult persists; the sound of a blaring alarm clock yanks the couple from their slumber. The sounds of military machinery and mortar shells being launched punctuates the movie like a pounding heartbeat--a tyrannical percussion that is stressful and unrelenting. When Eva hops out of bed, the surprise at seeing her bare breasts is meant to deepen the audience's tension, alongside her impatience as she rushes to wash herself so that she and Jan can make their appointment with the mayor, Jacobi (Gunnar Björnstrand). Eva and Jan bicker in the early morning, frustrated with what she sees as Jan's emotional indulgences and his ineffectual tinkering with their radio and car, which apparently only makes it worse. Jan's clearly not cut out for farming life, which is what the war has left to them, since their talents as symphonic musicians are lost in the current political climate. They try to eke out a living by selling lingonberries, and when they have some extra cash, they treat themselves to a bottle of wine--one of the few left--reminiscing about better times as they dine in the open air outside of their ramshackle cottage. Jan and Eva still have to deal with the problems that come with marriage. Eva believes that they should have a child while they have a chance, in the hopes that it will strengthen their relationship, and tries to forgive Jan for his infidelity before the war. Moments like these create a rapport between the protagonists and the audience, making them more than just characters that have to confront the conflict of war, but into sympathetic and familiar people.
Shame offers few specifics about the faceless war, adding to the absurdity of a conflict that is so removed from the lives of everyday people like Jan and Eva. The couple claims that they have no interest in politics--and they don't--but when the bombers soar past their homes and paratroopers land on their doorstep and corral them with rifles, they realize that the war will absorb them into its destructive circuit regardless. Eva is forced into a filmed interview; she is later dubbed over, and the interview becomes propaganda. When the ruling government discovers the film, they interrogate Eva and abuse Jan, as they have with others as innocent as they are before. Waving guns around and adopting Gestapo tactics, the military's abuses of power are shocking, but not unsurprising; more disarming is how men like Jacobi are dragged down into the surrounding mire of conspiracy and violence. Jan is weak-willed and craven; conversely, he is more sensitive and finds the violence so distasteful that it makes him ill. When Jan and Eva are fleeing their home, they consider what food to bring with them, either to eat or to barter. They decide they should kill one of their hens, but Jan can't bear the idea of killing them by hand. When he tries to shoot one with his rifle, he misses entirely from a few paces away; you could almost see his hands trembling as he misfires. Jan's heart is too big to face the horrors of war head-on, and it is almost inconceivable how cruel he becomes at the end. The turning point comes with his discovery of the unlikely affair Eva has with Jacobi, who had heretofore been like a friend of their family. When Jacobi and his wife meet Jan and Eva on the ferry, they share small talk and there is no suggestion of any kind of betrayal to come. Jacobi exploits his position to free Jan and Eva from imprisonment and degradation by the military, and the suggestion is that this was the catalyst for the affair. Either out of gratitude for Jacobi's overreaching favoritism or out of spite for Jan (or both), Eva sought comfort in the older man's caresses. The abject brutality of the war is depicted through almost unflinchingly grim tableaux. There is a scene after the tanks have rolled across the community where Eva looks down at the slain body of a young girl, and then looks up. She is presumably looking at Jan, but in reality is looking into the audience; her expression makes it clear how shameful and horrible war is, destroying innocent life with indifference. The most nightmarish image comes after Jan and Eva escape the island; they awake one morning adrift at sea, discovering that the vessel is unable to move because it is surrounded by the floating corpses of soldiers. There are instances where characters draw attention to antique treasures--like a musical statuette or a violin; they become metaphorical beacons of light against the darkness of war, evidence of the capacity for creation in civilized times. These treasures represent that human beings were not meant to destroy each other with violence, but to bolster one another up with culture and art. The rarity of these possessions--and in one terrible scene, their destruction--reveals the inherent ignorance of war...an act that runs counter to our humanity, and serves no better purpose than to extinguish that precious warmth that burns inside us.
Recommended for: Fans of a tragic and cautionary tale about the horrors of war, and its devastating effects on the lives of everyday people. Shame doesn't identify one army or another in the conflict as a "hero" or "villain", but underscores that the act itself warps the heart and turns good people into monsters.
Shame offers few specifics about the faceless war, adding to the absurdity of a conflict that is so removed from the lives of everyday people like Jan and Eva. The couple claims that they have no interest in politics--and they don't--but when the bombers soar past their homes and paratroopers land on their doorstep and corral them with rifles, they realize that the war will absorb them into its destructive circuit regardless. Eva is forced into a filmed interview; she is later dubbed over, and the interview becomes propaganda. When the ruling government discovers the film, they interrogate Eva and abuse Jan, as they have with others as innocent as they are before. Waving guns around and adopting Gestapo tactics, the military's abuses of power are shocking, but not unsurprising; more disarming is how men like Jacobi are dragged down into the surrounding mire of conspiracy and violence. Jan is weak-willed and craven; conversely, he is more sensitive and finds the violence so distasteful that it makes him ill. When Jan and Eva are fleeing their home, they consider what food to bring with them, either to eat or to barter. They decide they should kill one of their hens, but Jan can't bear the idea of killing them by hand. When he tries to shoot one with his rifle, he misses entirely from a few paces away; you could almost see his hands trembling as he misfires. Jan's heart is too big to face the horrors of war head-on, and it is almost inconceivable how cruel he becomes at the end. The turning point comes with his discovery of the unlikely affair Eva has with Jacobi, who had heretofore been like a friend of their family. When Jacobi and his wife meet Jan and Eva on the ferry, they share small talk and there is no suggestion of any kind of betrayal to come. Jacobi exploits his position to free Jan and Eva from imprisonment and degradation by the military, and the suggestion is that this was the catalyst for the affair. Either out of gratitude for Jacobi's overreaching favoritism or out of spite for Jan (or both), Eva sought comfort in the older man's caresses. The abject brutality of the war is depicted through almost unflinchingly grim tableaux. There is a scene after the tanks have rolled across the community where Eva looks down at the slain body of a young girl, and then looks up. She is presumably looking at Jan, but in reality is looking into the audience; her expression makes it clear how shameful and horrible war is, destroying innocent life with indifference. The most nightmarish image comes after Jan and Eva escape the island; they awake one morning adrift at sea, discovering that the vessel is unable to move because it is surrounded by the floating corpses of soldiers. There are instances where characters draw attention to antique treasures--like a musical statuette or a violin; they become metaphorical beacons of light against the darkness of war, evidence of the capacity for creation in civilized times. These treasures represent that human beings were not meant to destroy each other with violence, but to bolster one another up with culture and art. The rarity of these possessions--and in one terrible scene, their destruction--reveals the inherent ignorance of war...an act that runs counter to our humanity, and serves no better purpose than to extinguish that precious warmth that burns inside us.
Recommended for: Fans of a tragic and cautionary tale about the horrors of war, and its devastating effects on the lives of everyday people. Shame doesn't identify one army or another in the conflict as a "hero" or "villain", but underscores that the act itself warps the heart and turns good people into monsters.