Premium
This is an archive article published on July 31, 2007

Cinema’s Shakespeare, he will live as long as the medium lives

Masters like Ingmar Bergman can die only in the physical sense. He has been with me — as, I am sure, he has been with many others — ever since I discovered cinema as an art form.

.

Masters like Ingmar Bergman can die only in the physical sense. He has been with me — as, I am sure, he has been with many others — ever since I discovered cinema as an art form. His work will live on forever for he has, through his huge body of work, defined the very contours of cinema for the modern world. You think of cinema, you think of Bergman.

I saw my first Bergman film when I was at the Pune film institute in the early 1960s. Although he had been making films since the 1940s, it was during the ‘50s that his work began to capture the imagination of the world. I was in the institute around the time that his major work was beginning to travel around the world. I saw Wild Strawberries, Cries and Whispers, The Seventh Seal, Through a Glass Darkly and many of his other important films at the institute and later at film festivals in Delhi and elsewhere. I have been an admirer of his cinema ever since.

One thing that I remember from my institute days is that Ritwik Ghatak wasn’t particularly fond of Bergman’s films. He would instead extol the style and panache of Luis Bunuel, “the Master from Mexico”, as he would call him. He obviously had his own logic for his dislike of the Swedish great.

Story continues below this ad

But for most cineastes around the world, Bergman ranks among the greatest masters of the medium. For me, among the most striking aspects of his career was that he was as much into theatre as he was into film. He was a colossus in both spheres and that made him an artistic force of rare versatility.

I never met Bergman in person. But I once saw a documentary that threw light on his working style. It showed Bergman at work with Bibi Andersson. The extent to which he allowed his actors to have a say in how a film panned out was quite remarkable.

Though his cinema was extremely personal, he obviously believed in working very closely with his actors, which probably explains the emergence of a truly formidable repertory of screen performers around him (Max von Sydow, Liv Ullmann, Erland Josephson and Bibi Andersson, among others). My own approach towards actors and how I make my films is, of course, the exact opposite.

But that is not to say that Bergman wasn’t an influence on us. He was. His cinema was deeply meditative. It had a high level of spirituality, but not in the sense of being religious, but in the sense of being imbued with a soul. His style was very, very distinct, and no filmmaker who watched a Bergman film, no matter where in the world, could ever remain untouched by his influence.

Story continues below this ad

Yes, that influence may not have manifested itself in obvious ways. In fact, one doesn’t have to actually follow the ways of a master to pay homage to him. It’s enough to just uphold the spirit of his cinema. Bergman’s films are great examples of exquisite filmcraft, and they have been liberally borrowed from over the decades.

This may sound clichéd, but Bergman marks an entire era in the history of filmmaking. He was after all active from the 1940s all the way up to the 1980s. He will stand out like a true master forever.

For example, in theatre, it doesn’t matter what periods and cultures William Shakespeare, Henrik Ibsen or Luigi Pirandello belonged to. What matters is that their work has never lost relevance. Bergman probably comes closest to being cinema’s equivalent of Shakespeare. He will live as long as the medium lives.

Latest Comment
Post Comment
Read Comments
Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement