Shame (Skammen). 1968. Directed by Ingmar Bergman.

(10/2/00-10/5/00)

It seems a pity that Ingmar Bergman felt the need to work in color. There is such a richness to his work in black-and-white. That was due in no small measure to the contribution of cinematographer Sven Nykvist. I believe that Shame was Bergman's last major black-and-white film. The images--especially the exteriors--are exquisite, like fine etchings or engravings. Bergman didn't need color and I think that it actually intruded on his special style.

Although Shame is about war it doesn't have much urgency about it for most of its running time. It just seems like a slice-of-life of people living under tense conditions. It is enjoyable for capturing the look and feel of its time. It really brought back the late 60s and early 70s for me, both by vividly evoking the ambience of that time and also by being a classic example of the kind of film that we considered important and artistic in those days.

So the film's pleasures are the beautiful black-and-white cinematography, a waulity of nostalgia, and the expressive face of Liv Ullman. We also have the pleasure of contrasting the characters of Jan and Eva Rosenberg, two violinists. Jan is played by Max von Sydow.

The contrast is made plain when a plane crashes and a man falls into the trees, possibly hurt. Eva wants to go and help him, but Jan holds her back, mindful of the potential danger to themselves. Eva comes across as the healthier one, the stronger one, able to come from a space of compassion and life whilst Jan falls victim to fear and the self-absorption it breeds. I think Bergman stacks the deck a little; as Eva is young and female she more easily represents the good, the human, the kind. This is a kind of prejudice that the director panders to. At least, that's how I see it.

The film becomes more interesting when Jan and Eva are captured and taken to a military headquarters. It is a frightening ordeal, but what is interesting is that it takes place in such an ordinary, bland setting. And this is truly what happens in times of violent disruption--the familiar environment turns nightmarish.

Jan and Eva are accused of being collaborators. Eva is shown a tape of a TV interview in which she denounces the government and hopes for a revolution. (I am not sure of the details of what she says.) Eva says that the interview is a forgery--it has been doctored. Is that the truth or is she just saying it to save her skin? It is left ambiguous.

A friend, Colonel Jacobi, manages to get them released. He says that the interview has obviously been faked. Is he lying--using his influence to save his friends? This is what happens in time of war.

Jacobi continues to befriend the Rosenbergs and visits them often. Eva is unhappy about this; I think the reason is that it will look bad if the other side were to come into power. I forget a lot of what happens, but I think she actually asks him to not hang around so much.

Jacobi wants to do more than hang around; he wants to sleep with Eva. He offers her what I believe he says is his life savings--2,300 [I forget the currency]. And she agrees although she has never before been unfaithful to her husband. This is truly poignant, sad and pathetic--watching this kindly old man offer his savings to sleep with Eva. I think it is degrading to both of them. Jacobi, I think, already showed us what a lonely man he was. Asking Eva to do that, even if in exchange for money which would be a great help to them, seems like a betrayal.

Again, this is the kind of thing that can happen in a war situation. People let down their inner barriers, desires not normally acted upon come to the surface. In short, people say and do things that they wouldn't under more normal circumstances.

What follows is harrowing. Jan finds the money and figures out what has happened. The other side suddenly comes into power and Jacobi is captured. He comes back under guard and asks if he can borrow the money that he gave Eva. His captors need money and will let him go for it. Jan claims that he hasn't seen any money. In other words, he is willing to let this man who protected him and his wife and treated them with kindness be shot, possibly out of revenge for the man's having slept with his wife. It is sickening.

Jan pays for his refusal to turn over the money. The men who have Jacobi search his house and demolish it. I forget exactly what happens; they possibly force Jan to shoot him. Whatever happens, it is a wrenching scene. And Jan rationalizes it by saying that they would have shot him anyway. Maybe they would have, but it still comes across as rationalization.

At the end of the film, Jan and Eva use the dead man's money to gain passage on a boat taking them away. The film ends with the boat out in the water. The scene reminds me very much of Max Beckmann's The Departure. It is a haunting voyage into the unknown. A man lowers himself over the side of the boat presumably to drown, they row through a mass of dead bodies. All of this is rendered in exquisite black-and-white photography.

The film ends with Eva describing a dream she has had. She describes a beautiful setting with a beautiful tree or plants or rosebushes. A warplane crashes or flies by and sets the rosebushes on fire. It would have been horrible if it hadn't been so beautiful.

I would definitely like to see this one again.