I confess that, when I first came up with the idea for this week's Almost There write-up, I didn't expect its subject to be so weirdly topical. First up, there's the actual raison d'être for the piece, which is the Criterion Channel's new "Marriage Stories" collection, in which Ingmar Bergman's Scenes from a Marriage is featured. Then there's the whole Hamilton kerfuffle, which caused controversy over the Academy's definition of what is and isn't cinema or what should and shouldn't be eligible for the Oscars (two importantly different questions). This is relevant because the ineligibility of Bergman's film caused a major ruckus back in 1974 and even prompted a couple of notorious open letters (another topical subject, unfortunately). Finally, we have the recent news that the television cut of Scenes from a Marriage is going to be remade by HBO with Michelle Williams and Oscar Isaac in the leading roles.
We'll return to some of those matters later on, but, for now, let's concentrate on Liv Ullmann's masterful performance as Marianne in Scenes from a Marriage…
After spending more than a decade perusing the depths of faith and how one can live in a world without God or meaning, Ingmar Bergman decided to explore another great source of despair – marriage. With a few failed matrimonies and even more broken relationships to pull inspiration from, the Swedish master conceived of a television miniseries (his first!) that documented the dissolution of a married couple's relationship over ten acrimonious years. Divided into six chapters and lasting around five hours, it's a project both epic and modest. On one hand, the scope of human observation the narrative provides is staggering, peeling layers of calcified regret and doubt, self-delusion, and sexual antagonism until it exposes its characters' naked souls. On the other, it's mostly made of prolonged dialogues in simple interiors, so cheaply arranged that there was no time or resources to rehearse the marathon-length scenes.
It's the sort of ambitiously small production that asks a lot of its creators, especially the performers tasked with bringing its story to life. Thankfully, Bergman was working with two of the best players of his repertory company, Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephsson as Marianne and Johan. In the actress's case, this was a particularly challenging endeavor, since she had been romantically involved with Bergman and a lot of the film's painful details were extracted from her own life. Ullmann herself said that shooting Scenes from a Marriage was akin to participating in a documentary. That's not to say that her portrayal of Marianne is a simple matter of existing in front of the camera. I'd go so far as to say that this is Ullmann's crowning achievement in a career full of unbelievably great feats. It's, in fact, one of the performances I'd shortlist if someone ever asked me to select the best film acting of all-time.
As Bergman did as a director and writer, Ullmann may have used real-life experiences to inform the work, but her take on Marianne is still specific and astute. This is apparent from minute one, for Bergman starts the film with a photoshoot and interview where the family unit is carefully posed. Each direction from their observer bringing the audience's attention to all the information one can get, or perceive, from gestures or the direction of one's look. As spectators, we are thus trained to pay attention to the minutiae of the actor's onscreen behavior, posture, and relation to each other within the space. Their characterizations are not painted with broad strokes but with the tiniest brush, intricate work that gains its power from the organic accumulation of details. Because of that, by the end of Scenes from a Marriage, we feel as if we know Marianne and Johan better than we know ourselves.
That being said, the process of getting to know these people is gradual and slowly paced. At first, they are recalcitrant and show very little of their interiority. In Marianne's case, this lack of demonstrative inner thought is even more present than in Johan's because she isn't sure of who she is at the start of the narrative. The dramatic arc of Scenes from a Marriage, as it pertains to its female protagonist, is one of self-discovery. Like many people in long-term relationships, she had let her identity be defined by her connection to another person, which proves to be destructive once he pulls away and leaves Marianne alone with herself. That's even truer of the television cut, but the theatrical version of Scenes from a Marriage is no less astute despite its brisk rhythms. If anything, the lack of certain dialogues and expository information puts even more weight on the actor's shoulders, since their performances have to suggest what has been excised.
Not that any judicious cutting could dilute Ullmann's miraculous performance. Be it in phone calls that range from demure acquiescence to shameful wrath or morning passages full of erotic longing and trepidation, the actress constructs a believably complicated woman whose relationship to her husband changes over a decade of shared living. Of all the Almost There pieces this has been the hardest to write, in part because I feel incapable of describing how astonishing Ullmann's Marianne is. For instance, the moment, roughly in the middle of the picture, when she is told, by Johan, that he has found someone else will forever be seared into my brain. Instead of going the expected route of playing histrionics, tears, and screams, she reacts with fear. It's raw and surprising, a shot of fright that ravages the viewer. It's an existential panic that seems to sprout from the depths of her spirit and makes her unravel, laid bare before our eyes. The performance is more visceral than cerebral.
At a certain later point, when holding onto Johan to prevent him from physically leaving, Ullmann seems almost monstrous, a wounded ghoul trying to imprison the source of its vampiric sustenance. However, as Bergman keeps the camera on Ullmann, the grotesque turns to something more piteous and painful. In another scene closer to the end, the actress and her director will play a similar trick by leaving the camera on her face as she shows how Marianne's lust turns to contented affection before souring into outright hatred towards a man who's never felt any qualms about hurting her with psychological warfare. Any word I write about this exorcism calling itself acting seems futile in its attempt at capturing the genius of Liv Ullmann. The best thing I can say is that, many times during Scenes from a Marriage, I honestly felt uncomfortable. That's maybe the ultimate testament to such a performance - it's so real you want to look away, but you can't.
All this and I haven't even touched upon the picture's and Ullmann's canny ability to avoid miserabilist monotone. Like most of Bergman's greatest works, Scenes from a Marriage has a peculiar sense of humor that shows its face when you don't expect it. After watching Johan and Marianne escalate an argument to physical violence, the director cuts to many years later when the divorcees are now lovers, both cheating on their respective spouses with their ex. The way Ullmann moves through the streets of Stockholm, giddy and excited like a teenager going on her first date is so at odds with what we've seen before that it's difficult not to let out a nervous giggle. The film's also capable of great tenderness and it is in such a note that Ullmann closes the narrative, offering a final balm for the soul of the viewer after having eviscerated her heart for their pleasure.
Considering such awe-inspiring work, it's no surprise that Scenes from a Marriage was received with great acclaim once it arrived on American screens. Liv Ullmann went on to snag the New York Film Critics Circle Award as well as the National Society of Film Critics' prize for Best Actress. She also got a Golden Globe and BAFTA nomination and received vocal support from many of her peers. Unfortunately, because the television cut of Scenes from a Marriage had premiered on Swedish TV the year before its 1974 American release, it was deemed ineligible by the Academy.
Later Bergman projects wouldn't commit the same mistake, but it also helped that the Hollywood community was so outraged by AMPAS' stubbornness. Three of that year's eventual Best Actress Oscar nominees went so far as to sign an open letter, along with other famous performers, advocating for Ullmann's right to compete for the Academy Award. Unfortunately, AMPAS stood firm and this titanic performance was left out of Oscar history. If the film had been deemed eligible, Ullmann would have certainly scored a nod, maybe even a victory.
Since this series analyzes performances through the prism of the Oscar race, I focused mostly on Liv Ullmann's work in the theatrical version of Scenes from a Marriage. In any case, both cuts are available to stream on the Criterion Channel. The film is also on HBO Max and Kanopy.