French director Mia Hansen-Løve is known for her distinctive auteurial flair. Her cinema deals with intimate characters who delve into their minds, which is often a window to the director’s mindscape. Hansen-Løve’s latest film, Bergman Island, may appear to be a spellbinding ode to Ingmar Bergman, but it isn’t. While Bergman’s persona looms large in the surroundings of the film, Hansen-Løve’s lyrical film-in-film drama is quintessentially hers.
Bergman Island is about Chris (Vicky Krieps) and Tony (Tim Roth), a filmmaker couple, who arrive in Fårö Island of the Baltic Sea – famous for having housed Ingmar Bergman, where he wrote, made films, et al. Intrigued by the mood of the place, Chris begins to doubt whether the island is too picturesque to inspire something as complex as a film script. Their visit adds a layer of tension to the couple’s dynamic, especially when they’re informed that the house they’re staying in was where Scenes from a Marriage was filmed – a work that, they’re told, famously led to many divorces. Early discussions on Bergman’s cinema raise questions, most notably why he seldom explored happiness.
Chris, meanwhile, is enchanted by the island’s languid charm. While her more celebrated husband enjoys local screenings and adulation, she, a filmmaker with a taste for experimentation (much like Hansen-Løve herself), finds herself bonding with a young student. The film explores the dynamics between two creative minds in a relationship – an older, reserved, prolific husband and a communicative, curious wife.
The story takes a surprising turn when Chris begins to narrate her film idea to Tony. Set on Fårö, it centers on Amy (Mia Wasikowska) and her reunion with her first love, Joseph (Anders Danielsen Lie). Their story is suffused with passion – something missing in Chris’s marriage. Soon, Bergman Island begins to blur the line between fiction and reality. And the “reality” here is a thinly veiled nod to Hansen-Løve’s former romantic partner and frequent collaborator, French auteur Olivier Assayas.
One must hand it to the filmmaker for braving it out to etch a chapter of her own life onto a suitably creative fictional palette. In her delightfully convoluted plot, Hansen-Løve integrates two women (Chris, Amy) to represent a common conscience. Their chemistry – even though they share the screen only fleetingly – is magnetic. Even as Chris narrates what must be her story through Amy, it is impossible to notice the image of one in another’s eyes. Amy echoes what must be a version of Chris’s bottled emotions and her inability to seek catharsis. At the same time, Amy (who is a filmmaker too, again) is finding ways to attain it through her artistic expression, and then there is a white dress that becomes a marvelous metaphor. This way, Bergman Island magically offers what must be three perspectives on what might be a process of emotional release.
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Hansen-Løve’s screenplay is meticulous. She creates a textured universe, introduces characters from different layers of reality, and leads them to a deeply satisfying conclusion. The men aren’t vilified, but this is undoubtedly a story about women. Hansen-Løve underscores how even the most intelligent or charming men often struggle to grasp a woman’s inner complexity. In a liberating moment, Amy tells Joseph, “I love two people,” while Joseph’s discomfort, rooted in traditional notions of fidelity, comes off as uneasy and constrained.
Like her earlier works (including the underrated, India-set Maya), the women in Bergman Island are philosophical. They didn’t perplex me as much as the verbose protagonist in Things to Come. Here, Hansen-Løve’s tone is poetic, and she gently pays homage to Bergman by letting his legacy permeate the atmosphere without overshadowing her story.
Turning Bergman Island into a photographic marvel is Denis Lenoir. Even better is Marion Monnier’s editing, whose extraordinarily chosen frames make sure that the navigation between the films – the one we are watching, and the other that the protagonist is narrating within – is seamless. The film also allows you to be mesmerized by its supple yet immensely engaging original score.
Performances are deeply nuanced. Krieps and Wasikowska embody contrasting facets of the filmmaker herself. Anders Danielsen Lie brings just the right amount of mystery to Joseph. Tim Roth paints a believable picture of a seasoned artist navigating life with a much younger, equally talented partner.
Bergman Island dazzles in its many layers of meta-cinema. The Bergman connection is clever (if somewhat expected), but Hansen-Løve decides to craft a deeply personal, auto-fictional narrative that makes it exceptional. Even in the chapters of heightened drama filmed to exude a certain amount of theatrics, the filmmaker’s intent is inevitably clear. And it’s brave of Hansen-Løve to design an intricate and often esoteric tale with the essence of her own life without flinching from her characteristic style.
Rating: ★★★★
Bergman Island is now streaming on Mubi.
