Liv Ullman

(On Cable TV, February 2022) When discussing Ingman Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage, saying, “I’m glad that’s over” has a few distinct meanings. For one thing, it’s a measure of my relief in making my way through Bergman’s filmography—he may be revered as a filmmaker, but I have a hard time liking most of his films so the closer I get to completing his filmography the closer I get to never having to watch any of his films ever again. For another, it’s a commentary on the film itself, as it flips the usual romantic comedy structure (a long courtship leading to marriage and happiness) to a romantic tragedy (beginning with a happy marriage, then disintegrating into a divorce and an inconclusive aftermath). It’s such a sad story that, by the time it’s done, we are well past the point where we’re done. (Although Bergman does keep his options open by having the ex-spouses have affairs long after their divorce.)  Finally, perhaps more importantly, it’s a commentary on the pacing and cinematographic nature of the film: adapted from a six-episode TV series, it’s shot on grainy 16 mm film with near-constant claustrophobic closeups, and perhaps more importantly, lasts a mind-numbing two hours and 49 minutes of intimate conversations charting the end of a formerly happy relationship. Scenes from a Marriage is famous in film circles for inspiring many imitators (some of them nominated for Academy Awards, such as the recent Marriage Story) and it’s true that we’re not watching it in the same way now as then—divorce is far more common than in the mid-1970s, and so are stories about them. The film does have moments of interest—Liv Ullman is a compelling presence no matter the context, and the film’s slow pace allows it to build dramatic intensity. But I like what I like or (more to the point), don’t like what I don’t like: I can’t imagine volunteering to watch Scenes from a Marriage again without substantial rewards. In other words: Well, I’m glad it’s over.