maybe—or, actually, should I say, most definetly—Liv Ullmann's voracious performance elevated the work as a whole. the absolute terror in her sometimes trembling and almost whispered voice pale in comparison to her screaming impersonation of her merciless grandmother, and yet we fully buy it. this is a rare case where the screenplay isn't the most special aspect of a Bergman film, and it took me reading it alone to realize. even when pairing God tier actors on their top-notch game with the never short from great cinematography from Sven Nykvist—like the case of, arguably, Ingmar Bergman's finest movie Autumn Sonata—his writing seems so effortless and limpid and yet so cunning you can feel it as if it were all so real. in Face to Face, the feeling remains, but it mostly relies on Ullmann's tremendous talent to
hold up and sell an unbelievable descent into madness; and by God she does. the writing is amazing, going deep into themes of love, death, love in death and death in love. in the preface, the author credits (and thanks) Jenny for absorbing an anguish he had no reason feeling. I do find curious, however, how he himself did not spiral down after putting this feeling into words and realizing this was what was inside of him. did he feel violated? was there a dark impulse he was forced to give into while actually wanting to? did he really feel happiness fading before his eyes, courtesy of past traumas he refused to or couldn't let go? did he feel such a disconnection between his body and his soul (his "I" and his "me", as some authors should put) that he would just rather end one of them? Face to Face carries a dark story, but while Jenny is forced to confront herself and what's inside her, I imagine Ingmar doing a self examination in the same way, except those were somehow real feelings he felt. it is very complex, and I don't really fully understand the usual Bergman imagery here, but it is definitely a story that will stay with me for years to come.