The TouchFleeing from the truest feelings that dwell within one's heart is akin to burning the proverbial candle at both ends. The Touch is a drama and romantic film about an affair between Karin Vergerus (Bibi Andersson), a wife and mother living a comfortable (if predictable) life, and David Kovac (Elliott Gould), an emotionally unstable archaeologist from America--as well as a former patient of Karin's husband, Andreas (Max von Sydow). What begins as a nervous infatuation escalates into a consuming passion that threatens to send Karin's life spiraling into chaos. But even worse is the lingering question as to whether this affair is something Karin even wants.
|
|
One of the underlying and more subtle themes in The Touch is grief, and how the heart struggles with sorrow and remorse. The film opens with Karin rushing to the hospital to bid farewell to her dying mother, only to discover that she was approximately fifteen minutes too late. As Karin observes the still body of her mother, her eyes nervously dart around the room, emphasized through sharp, quick editing. Karin leaves the room with an unnatural calm, and carries on a distracted conversation with a tactless nurse about collecting her mother's possessions. But it isn't until Karin is alone in the stairwell that she breaks down into tears, her emotions given liberty, allowing her to be terribly, profoundly sad at the passing of her mother. When she believes she is alone in a cloakroom, David stumbles in and interrupts her in this painful moment. He feebly offers to help, and she curtly asks him to leave her alone. Some time passes--a span left deliberately undefined, but long enough to suggest that Karin would have dealt with her sadness from the prologue. In these opening credits, Karin and David walk side by side in the luxurious gardens belonging to Andreas--left to him by his late parents--and are smiling and laughing with one another. With only the faintest preamble--that mere "chance" brought them back into one another's respective orbits--they appear to be on the verge of a blossoming friendship, and nothing more. Yet in a brazen declaration, David claims that he "fell in love" with Karin from the moment he first saw her in that cloakroom. Karin becomes distracted for the rest of the evening; while Andreas shares vacation slides with an increasingly inebriated David, she fidgets and shifts in place. She is both confused and excited by the confession; but deep down, Karin is reminded of that painful moment in her past that she hasn't fully come to terms with yet. Karin often struggles with making choices, in her relationships with Andreas and David, and with her own feelings. (Andreas accuses her of as much--both directly and indirectly--on two separate occasions.) She has allowed herself to become a part of a nearly cliche--yet otherwise halcyon--domestic life, choosing to embrace placidity rather than acknowledge all of the ugly, terrifying feelings that accompany her profound grief. Some have commented on the abruptness of the ending of The Touch, yet it fits with the interpretation that she has finally come to terms with losing her mother; the beginning of both scenes are framed similarly, and include her cream-colored automobile arriving at the respective locations where she must say goodbye to a heretofore important person from her life.
Despite the pervading sadness that lurks beneath Karin's affair, she is also excited by the experience, rushing with nervous glee to her clandestine meetings with David. She visits him at a medieval church he is renovating, where a wooden statue of the Virgin Mary was uncovered, sealed away in a walled-off room and largely in pristine condition. This statue becomes a metaphor for Karin's affair. Like the bliss that comes with discovering something previously thought buried away and forgotten, Karin feels invigorated at being desired by another man. But after the statue is fully excavated, previously dormant insect larvae awaken and begin eating away at the statue from within, expanding on the metaphor by emphasizing the corruption that follows Karin's unfaithfulness, as well as the "hollowness" of the whole affair. Unlike some films where the wife engages in an affair because of marital woes, her relationship with Andreas is vibrant and healthy, as is that with her two teenage children. Everything couldn't be more perfect in Karin's life; so why does she "need" David, as she puts it? Her urges speak to the volatility of erotic passion, and how it often flies in the face of logic. In fact, her affair with David is beleaguered by strife and conflict almost from the start. Their initial "courtship" is a nervous one, with the two adults behaving like skittish teens worrying about how to have their first kiss. Karin even goes through the motions of trying on various outfits before their date, settling on one that is deliberately plain. She wants the thrill of something secret that she can keep all to herself, but is unprepared for the realities of adultery and romance, treating the affair like a hobby...like ballroom dancing lessons or something. She isn't ready to sexually commit on their first rendezvous, and when she talks with David on the phone the next day, he is distraught, even angry. When she visits him, he almost forces himself on her. Their sex is devoid of gentility and comfort, and instead becomes a raw and even brutal episode, with David shouting incoherently mid-coitus. Karin and David's relationship seems more like a farce of an affair; they act differently when they are with each other, putting on metaphorical masks and pretending to be someone else. David's erratic behavior hints at bipolar disorder, and Andreas later reveals that he initially treated him for attempted suicide. Even his beard comes and goes with the seasons, hinting at shifts in his personality, à la Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Both David and Karin appear to be searching for something within their lovers that they really should be seeking within themselves.
The Touch was written and directed by Ingmar Bergman, and is described as his first "English language" film--though it would be more accurate to describe it as "dual language", since native Swedish characters speak Swedish with each other; David only speaks English, but Karin and Andreas converse fluently with him in his native tongue. The Touch contains moments that are evidently self-referential, including one where David and Karin look into the camera amid a black background, reciting the letters they have written to one another, recalling a similar scene from Bergman's Winter Light. And is it that surprising that the wooden statue of the Virgin Mary concealed in the medieval church resembles the ill-fated heroine of The Virgin Spring, also named Karin? Bibi Anderson's Karin resembles her role from Persona, including a nervous propensity to fill quiet moments with dialogue. And consider when Andreas calls her to join him in front of a mirror, and the two look at each other in the reflection, calling back to arguably the most iconic shot from Persona. This scene also emphasizes the intimacy between the loving husband and his wife, but also the secret vulnerability that he sees within her. (It is in this moment where I believe Andreas knows that she has cheated on him.) And in Bergman's body of work, his films from the Seventies seem predisposed to an existential bleakness that is deliberately ironic, considering that they are shot in rich color. For example, the ending of The Touch evokes the end of The Passion of Anna; the ardor that once existed between these lovers burns out, leaving only the ashes of resentment behind.
There have been various interpretations about what David represents, from a snake that first tempts Karin in Andreas' "Garden of Eden", to an encroaching foreign influence, unearthing and exploiting Sweden's past and people for his own benefit. But I believe his place in the story is simpler and more natural--he is an emotionally fragile man, struggling to find meaning in his life and the world. But sympathy for David comes hard; he is controlling and makes unreasonable demands of Karin, even slapping her after she visits him while drunk and stinking of cigarettes. (He claims that he is furious because they "agreed" to quit smoking together.) David knows that Karin is using him, but he is also using her. He resents Andreas for saving his life, and it appears that he seduces Karin partially (or even wholly) out of spite. He makes claims that Andreas is a "hypocrite", but there is never any justification for this animosity, except that Andreas' kindness contradicts with his own self-loathing. When Andreas confronts him about the affair with his wife, the cuckolded spouse is not cruel, yet David is. David all but smirks at his visitor and patronizes him about his wife's unfaithfulness, leaving Andreas confused about what warranted this acrimony. David's manipulative behavior emerges after he gives Karin the cold shoulder early into their affair, which entices her to visit his dig site, pleading for an explanation. His motivations are complicated at best, mean-spirited at worst. He lies about his family--like his sister, Sara (Sheila Reid)--but opens up with Karin about the profound sadness he has that his father and extended family were killed in the Holocaust. It is reasonable to say that Karin pities David, which fuels her maternal instincts to care for this broken man. But in the end, despite her naive--even petulant--declarations she makes to her patient husband that she must "be with" David, endless proclamations of boundless love cannot make up for an affair founded on superficial desire.
Recommended for: Fans of a complex exploration of what possesses people to engage in adultery, and the deeper issues held in the hearts of the participants. Fans of Bergman will find no shortage of familiar tropes in The Touch, though it is also an accessible entry point for audiences unfamiliar with the Swedish auteur.
Despite the pervading sadness that lurks beneath Karin's affair, she is also excited by the experience, rushing with nervous glee to her clandestine meetings with David. She visits him at a medieval church he is renovating, where a wooden statue of the Virgin Mary was uncovered, sealed away in a walled-off room and largely in pristine condition. This statue becomes a metaphor for Karin's affair. Like the bliss that comes with discovering something previously thought buried away and forgotten, Karin feels invigorated at being desired by another man. But after the statue is fully excavated, previously dormant insect larvae awaken and begin eating away at the statue from within, expanding on the metaphor by emphasizing the corruption that follows Karin's unfaithfulness, as well as the "hollowness" of the whole affair. Unlike some films where the wife engages in an affair because of marital woes, her relationship with Andreas is vibrant and healthy, as is that with her two teenage children. Everything couldn't be more perfect in Karin's life; so why does she "need" David, as she puts it? Her urges speak to the volatility of erotic passion, and how it often flies in the face of logic. In fact, her affair with David is beleaguered by strife and conflict almost from the start. Their initial "courtship" is a nervous one, with the two adults behaving like skittish teens worrying about how to have their first kiss. Karin even goes through the motions of trying on various outfits before their date, settling on one that is deliberately plain. She wants the thrill of something secret that she can keep all to herself, but is unprepared for the realities of adultery and romance, treating the affair like a hobby...like ballroom dancing lessons or something. She isn't ready to sexually commit on their first rendezvous, and when she talks with David on the phone the next day, he is distraught, even angry. When she visits him, he almost forces himself on her. Their sex is devoid of gentility and comfort, and instead becomes a raw and even brutal episode, with David shouting incoherently mid-coitus. Karin and David's relationship seems more like a farce of an affair; they act differently when they are with each other, putting on metaphorical masks and pretending to be someone else. David's erratic behavior hints at bipolar disorder, and Andreas later reveals that he initially treated him for attempted suicide. Even his beard comes and goes with the seasons, hinting at shifts in his personality, à la Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Both David and Karin appear to be searching for something within their lovers that they really should be seeking within themselves.
The Touch was written and directed by Ingmar Bergman, and is described as his first "English language" film--though it would be more accurate to describe it as "dual language", since native Swedish characters speak Swedish with each other; David only speaks English, but Karin and Andreas converse fluently with him in his native tongue. The Touch contains moments that are evidently self-referential, including one where David and Karin look into the camera amid a black background, reciting the letters they have written to one another, recalling a similar scene from Bergman's Winter Light. And is it that surprising that the wooden statue of the Virgin Mary concealed in the medieval church resembles the ill-fated heroine of The Virgin Spring, also named Karin? Bibi Anderson's Karin resembles her role from Persona, including a nervous propensity to fill quiet moments with dialogue. And consider when Andreas calls her to join him in front of a mirror, and the two look at each other in the reflection, calling back to arguably the most iconic shot from Persona. This scene also emphasizes the intimacy between the loving husband and his wife, but also the secret vulnerability that he sees within her. (It is in this moment where I believe Andreas knows that she has cheated on him.) And in Bergman's body of work, his films from the Seventies seem predisposed to an existential bleakness that is deliberately ironic, considering that they are shot in rich color. For example, the ending of The Touch evokes the end of The Passion of Anna; the ardor that once existed between these lovers burns out, leaving only the ashes of resentment behind.
There have been various interpretations about what David represents, from a snake that first tempts Karin in Andreas' "Garden of Eden", to an encroaching foreign influence, unearthing and exploiting Sweden's past and people for his own benefit. But I believe his place in the story is simpler and more natural--he is an emotionally fragile man, struggling to find meaning in his life and the world. But sympathy for David comes hard; he is controlling and makes unreasonable demands of Karin, even slapping her after she visits him while drunk and stinking of cigarettes. (He claims that he is furious because they "agreed" to quit smoking together.) David knows that Karin is using him, but he is also using her. He resents Andreas for saving his life, and it appears that he seduces Karin partially (or even wholly) out of spite. He makes claims that Andreas is a "hypocrite", but there is never any justification for this animosity, except that Andreas' kindness contradicts with his own self-loathing. When Andreas confronts him about the affair with his wife, the cuckolded spouse is not cruel, yet David is. David all but smirks at his visitor and patronizes him about his wife's unfaithfulness, leaving Andreas confused about what warranted this acrimony. David's manipulative behavior emerges after he gives Karin the cold shoulder early into their affair, which entices her to visit his dig site, pleading for an explanation. His motivations are complicated at best, mean-spirited at worst. He lies about his family--like his sister, Sara (Sheila Reid)--but opens up with Karin about the profound sadness he has that his father and extended family were killed in the Holocaust. It is reasonable to say that Karin pities David, which fuels her maternal instincts to care for this broken man. But in the end, despite her naive--even petulant--declarations she makes to her patient husband that she must "be with" David, endless proclamations of boundless love cannot make up for an affair founded on superficial desire.
Recommended for: Fans of a complex exploration of what possesses people to engage in adultery, and the deeper issues held in the hearts of the participants. Fans of Bergman will find no shortage of familiar tropes in The Touch, though it is also an accessible entry point for audiences unfamiliar with the Swedish auteur.