Drama / Thriller

Rotten Tomatoes Critics - Certified Fresh 90%
Rotten Tomatoes Audience - Upright 94%
IMDb Rating 8.1 10 85,506


Downloaded 19,695 times
April 2, 2019



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691.85 MB
23.976 fps
83 min
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1.32 GB
23.976 fps
83 min
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Movie Reviews

Reviewed by zennokangae 10 / 10 / 10

Not Beyond Intepretation

I've studied Bergman's films and have seen all of them, yet Persona stands alone as his most brilliant and indeed, the most visually striking (thanks to the genius of Sven Nykvist). The story concerns a cracked actress (Liv Ullmann-Bergman's long-time lover), in hospital for treatment under the guise of a rather insecure nurse (Bibi Andersson). As the tale of care- giver and patient plays out, the nurse, Sister Alma, fills the void left by Liv Ullmann's complete silence and regression by offering a series of confessions on her own life. These confessions, most poignantly, consist of Alma's infidelities to her husband, a secret abortion and a unwanted pregnancy to please her husband. Through the course of the movie, set mainly in a summer retreat, the two women, left in seclusion, seem to drift into one another's personae. However, Bergman's dialogue turns more to first person confessional and not a tale of two women. Eventually, the viewer comes to the realization that the two women are actually two sides of the same person. Liv Ullmann represents, in pop-Freudian terms, the superego as Bibi Andersson is the ego or in other words, the 'actress' is actually the nurse and Liv Ullmann, the caretaker/observer. Elisabet Vogler is actually Bibi Andersson's persona; the one who answers to the external world, whilst shutting out the sensitive, introspective and broken inner persona, Liv Ullmann. The movie comes to a sad conclusion, wherein the actress wins out over the delicate, fractured woman deep within. As the lines in the movie say, they agree to "nothing", keeping the facade intact to the rest of her reality and keeping distant from her older husband and abandoning any attempt to love her son, born to please her husband. A line in the movie states blatantly that everyone has two personae; the one external and the one internal. This movie is one of the greatest human dramas with a psychological force rarely, if ever, seen today. Along with Casavetes' "A Woman on the Verge" and Lynch's "The Elephant Man", Bergman and Nykvist commit to film one of the most introspective studies of mortality, sanity and the human condition. A masterpiece.

Reviewed by G_a_l_i_n_a 10 / 10 / 10

'The human face is the great subject of the cinema. Everything is there'

When talking of Bergman, critics and viewers usually name Wild Strawberries, The Seventh Seal, Cries and Whispers ahead of Persona. While those films are all amazing and stay very high on my list of all time favorites, for me, the truly unique and inspirational s 'Persona' - Bergman's enigmatic masterpiece. The story is seemingly simple: "A nurse, Alma (Bibi Andersson), has been assigned to care for a famous actress, Elizabeth (Liv Ullman), who suddenly stopped speaking during a performance of Electra and has remained silent ever since. When they go to stay in a seaside house owned by Alma's psychiatrist colleague, the apparently self-confident nurse gradually reveals more and more of herself in the face of Elizabeth's silence, and is shocked to read a letter the actress has written implying that Alma is an interesting case-study. The two women seem almost to exchange identities, or to become one (strikingly expressed visually in a famous shot); in a dream sequence (or perhaps fantasy), Elizabeth's husband comes to visit and seems to think that Alma is his wife. Finally Alma, back in her nurse's uniform, catches a bus to go home, leaving the almost-mute Elizabeth alone." Whether Alma was able to get her identity back remains one of the film's many questions. What is absolutely wonderful in the film – performances from two actresses. Anderson is the one who has to carry almost the entire dialog, her voice is one of the film's priceless treasures while Ullman is equally powerful in expressing hundreds of emotions through her face and eyes. Sven Nykvist's camera, the third star of the film makes two stars shine so bright. Each scene in 81 minutes long film is memorable, some of them just unforgettable. For instance, the long scene where Alma reveals her most intimate memories of a sexual encounter with two boys while sunbathing nude with another girl on an empty beach, is infinitely more erotic to listen to than it would have been to see in flashback. There is so much to think about in Persona. One major question concerns Elizabeth's silence: is it elective, as happens in Tarkovsky's "Andrei Rublyov" , or is it some kind of mental breakdown?. The documentaries about the war horrors that Elizabeth watches on TV suggest the former; the fact that it suddenly happens during a stage performance of "Electra" suggests the latter. I keep thinking about it. Why "Electra" of all plays? The story of the daughter who hated her mother and wanted her dead – does it reflect the accusation brought up by Alma that Elizabeth did not love her deformed son and wanted him dead? Did Elizabeth become so overwhelmed by guilt realizing that her life reminded so much of Electra's story? We don't know for sure, and Bergman does not help. The identical monologue in which Alma is accusing Elizabeth is the film's resolution. We hear it twice: first time, camera is concentrating on Elizabeth's face, second time – on Alma's. Is Alma talking about Elizabeth or herself or both? After that encounter on the beach, Alma became pregnant and had an abortion. The monologue may reflect her feelings of guilt and emptiness as well as Elizabeth's. Does it really happen? Is Elizabeth a vampire sucking the life out of her victims only to use them as characters for her acting roles? Is that the ultimate price the artist is paying for being a great artist? Does he need lives and souls of others to be able to create? Can he/she love the ones who utterly depend on them and need their love? This film and later Autumn Sonata (1978) with Ingrid Bergman as a concert pianist show famous stars as selfish women who can't and don't love their children. The same question was brought up also in the earlier "Through a Glass Darkly (1961)" - in the relationship of the writer and his daughter. Then there is the question of whether there are really two women at all; could the whole film be played out as a fantasy of one of them, or indeed of somebody else? Is there a sexual attraction between the two women? It might be or might be not. I believe, David Lynch has watched "Persona" very carefully, thought about it and used some of its ideas in his own "Mullholland Dr." There are so many questions in this incredible film that are left unanswered. For almost forty years, viewers and filmmakers alike have been trying to find the answers. One thing is obvious – this is one of the films you want to watch over and over again. I think it should be seen by any viewer. If you've seen it already – see it again. You'll learn something new. If you have not seen it – you are in for a great experience. See it for Sven Nykvist's camera work, for Liv's face, for Bibi's voice, for the unique and mysterious world that is Ingmar Bergman's universe.

Reviewed by gftbiloxi 10 / 10 / 10

A Masterpiece

PERSONA may well be Ingmar Bergman's most complex film--yet, like many Bergman films, the story it tells is superficially simple. Actress Elizabeth Volger has suddenly stopped speaking in what appears to be an effort to cease all communication with the external world. She is taken to a hospital, where nurse Alma is assigned to care for her. After some time, Elisabeth's doctor feels the hospital is of little use to her; the doctor accordingly lends her seaside home to Elisabeth, who goes there with Alma in attendance. Although Elisabeth remains silent, the relationship between the women is a pleasant one--until a rainy day, too much alcohol, and Elisabeth's silence drives Alma into a series of highly charged personal revelations. It is at this point that the film, which has already be super-saturated with complex visual imagery, begins to create an unnerving and deeply existential portrait of how we interpret others, how others interpret us, and the impact that these interpretations have upon both us and them. What at first seemed fond glances and friendly gestures from the silent Elisabeth are now suddenly open to different interpretations, and Alma--feeling increasingly trapped by the silence--enters into a series of confrontations with her patient... but these confrontations have a dreamlike quality, and it becomes impossible to know if they are real or imagined--and if imagined, in which of the women's minds the fantasy occurs. Ultimately, Bergman seems to be creating a situation in which we are forced to acknowledge that a great deal of what we believe we know about others rests largely upon what we ourselves project upon them. Elisabeth's face and its expressions become akin to a blank screen on which we see our own hopes, dreams, torments, and tragedies projected--while the person behind the face constantly eludes our understanding. In this respect, the theme is remarkably well-suited to its medium: the blankness of the cinema screen with its flickering, endless shifting images that can be interpreted in infinite ways. Bergman is exceptionally fortunate in his actresses here: both Liv Ullman as the silent Elisabeth and Bibi Anderson as the increasingly distraught Alma offer incredible performances that seem to encompass both what we know from the obvious surface and what we can never know that exists behind their individual masks. Ullman has been justly praised for the power of her silence in this film, and it is difficult to imagine another actress who could carry off a role that must be performed entirely by ambiguous implications. Anderson is likewise remarkable, her increasing levels of emotional distress resounding like the waves upon the rocks at their seaside retreat. And Bergman and his celebrated cinematographer Sven Nykvist fill the screen with a dreamlike quality that is constantly interrupted by unexpected images ranging from glimpses of silent films to a moment at which the celluloid appears to burn to images that merge Ullman and Anderson's faces into one. As in many of his films, Bergman seems to be stating that we cannot know another person, and that our inability to do is our greatest tragedy. But however the film is interpreted, it is a stunning and powerful achievement, one that will resonate with the viewer long after the film ends. Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer

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