Blogical Conclusion

ARTIST AND AUDIENCE

JUL 11, 2009 – THE PLOT OF PERSONA IS SIMPLICITY ITSELF. Elisabeth Vogler (Liv Ullmann), a theatre star, stops speaking during a performance of Electra; Alma (Bibi Andersson) is commissioned to nurse her back to normalcy on an island retreat. This, essentially, reduces the film to a series of intensely theatrical monologues by Alma, the roles having been reversed now on who’s the performer (Alma, who can talk, and who will talk) and who’s the observer (Elisabeth, who won’t utter a word). And that is what the film explores – not the resolution of this “plot” (which functions just about barely as a narrative framework that makes it all seem about something) but the dissolution of boundaries between artist and audience, which is literalised in the famous shot that juxtaposes two halves of the faces of the two women into a disturbingly organic whole.

Sequestered on the island, Alma finds Elisabeth a willing listener. “Many people have told me that I’m a good listener. Funny, huh? No one’s ever bothered to listen to me. Like you are now. You’re listening. I think you’re the first person who’s listened to me.” And encouraged by this undivided attention – they could well be Eve and Eve in an idyllic Eden, and if so inclined, lesbian undertones are certainly there to be detected – Alma begins to reveal aspects of her life , general aspects at first, the kind you’d share with a stranger on a train. “I’ll marry Karl-Henrik and we’ll have a few children that I’ll raise. All that is decided. It’s inside of me. It’s nothing to ponder over. It’s a huge feeling of security. Then I have a job that I like and am happy with. That’s good too. But in another way.”

At times, Alma’s innate modesty makes her self-conscious. (She is, after all, unused to being “on stage,” even if not literally, and even if she’s only “performing” for an audience of one.) “God, I’m going on. You’re not getting irritated? It’s so nice to talk. It feels so nice and warm. I feel like I’ve never felt in my whole life.” But she quickly reconciles herself to her good fortune, and perhaps the occasional drink helps lower the defenses. “I always wanted a sister. I only have a load of brothers. Seven. Funny, huh? Then I come along. I’ve been surrounded by boys all my life. I like boys.” And gradually, the revelations turn intensely (and embarrassingly) personal. “I really like Karl-Henrik. But, you know, you only love once. I’m faithful to him. In my profession there are opportunities, I can tell you.”

“Karl-Henrik and I had hired a cottage by the sea. It was June, we were all alone. One day, when Karl-Henrik had gone into town, I went to the beach alone. It was really nice and warm. There was another girl there. She lived on an island nearby, but had come over as our beach lay to the south and was more relaxed. So we lay beside one another completely naked and sunbathed. We slept a little, woke up, and put on some oil. We wore these hats on our heads, you know, those cheap straw hats. I had a blue ribbon around my hat. I lay looking out from under the hat, glanced out at the landscape, the sea and the sun. It was so curious. Suddenly I saw two figures jumping about on the rocks above us. They hid and peeped out occasionally.”

“There are two boys looking at us, I said to her. Her name was Katarina. Well, let them look, she said, and turned on her back. It was such a strange feeling. I wanted to run and put on my costume, but I just lay still on my belly with my bum in the air, totally unembarrassed, totally calm. All the time I had Katarina beside me, with her breasts and thick thighs. She just lay there giggling a little to herself. Then I saw the boys had come nearer. They just stood looking at us. I saw that they were terribly young. Then one of them, the bravest one, he came up to us and squatted down beside Katarina. He pretended to be busy with his foot and sat poking between his toes. I felt totally strange. Suddenly I heard Katarina say: Aren’t you going to come over here?”

“Then she took his hand and helped him take his jeans and shirt off. Suddenly he was over her and she helped him in and held his behind. The other boy just sat on the slope and watched. I heard Katarina whisper in his ear and laugh. I had his face right next to me. It was all red and swollen. Suddenly I turned over and said: Aren’t you going to come to me too? Katarina said, Go to her now. And he pulled out of her and he fell over me, completely hard. He took hold of one breast. God, it hurt so much. I was all ready somehow, I came at once. Can you understand that? I was just going to tell him, ‘Be careful so that I don’t get pregnant,’ when he came.”

“I felt… I felt it like I’d never felt it before, how he sprayed his seed into me. He gripped my shoulders and bent backwards. I came over and over. Katarina lay on her side looking, and she held him from behind. When he came she embraced him and made herself come with his hand. And when she came she screamed really loud. Then all three of us started laughing. We called the other boy sitting on the slope. His name was Peter. He came down all confused, looking frozen in the sunshine. Katarina unbuttoned his trousers and started playing with him. When he came she took him in her mouth. He bent down and started kissing her on the back. She turned around, took his head in both hands and gave him her breast.”

“The other boy got so excited, so he and I started again. It was as nice as the first time. Then we swam and parted.” Through this startling and stunningly poetic monologue, Elisabeth has been a silent spectator – and yet, she’s not entirely subsumed herself in her new role. There’s still a part of her that hasn’t forgotten that she is, in reality, an artist, the artist – and this we realise subsequently through a cruel letter she writes her husband, where she says she’s enjoying “studying” Alma, as if taking mental notes for a future performance. And of course, in a sense, she is – for she isn’t just Elisabeth, one actress, so much as a stand-in for all creators, including directors like Bergman, those supremely gifted but also supremely self-centered beings who create self-perpetuating works of art by preying on the revelations of innocents.

Persona (1966, Swedish). Directed by Ingmar Bergman. Starring Bibi Andersson, Liv Ullmann, Gunnar Björnstrand.

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