Ingmar Bergman unfolds his 1951 drama, Summer Interlude, under a bleak canopy of the downhearted and disenchanted, an umbrella of gathering doom and gloom as both the summer skies and its respective weather gently gives way to the harsher and colder characteristics of autumn; as the rural locale in which the film is predominantly set becomes barer, less lush and more frightening as things gradually wind down for a longer, greyer haul. The said items greatly compliment a really stark, professionally observed and thoroughly engaging mediation on life and attitudes of old twinned with doomed romance whilst one was younger; a brilliantly played and fascinating in equal right observation of great intimacy on attitudes to life and those around one when one is younger simultaneously exploring that yearning for times gone by. From its frank opening act culminating in a woman deciding to journey out so as to confront both fears and the pain because of something which still resonates, to its closing of the lead peeling certain things away from her as she additionally quite literally reflects into a mirror following a somewhat successful journey, it is a devilishly involving romantic-drama which works brilliantly.
The film covers young Marie (Nilsson), a Swedish ballerina whose mind and whose memories make up the bulk of the film's runtime as she ventures out to a more rural part of her country, but only when the hard graft of bringing to life an incarnation of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake is temporarily halted. Her decision to do so is inspired by a collection of things she receives in the post, her facial reaction occupying most of the frame as a diegetic alarm bell within the theatre she's working sounds off and acts as a fitting soundtrack overlying the imagery. Once back on the floor following the role-call bell and practising again, the film presents us with what appears to be two or three different soundtracks of internal and external music playing over the images, as these rather dramatic dance procedures are presented to us in a relatively close up format whilst the impact of what was read or discovered barely a scene ago resonates. Post practise, a session brought to a premature end following some technical malfunction with required stage equipment, Marie leaves the building with her journalist boyfriend David (Kjellin).
We discover that she has had little time for him recently, the manner in which the production crew drive Marie fresh in our minds; Marie taking this opportunity to bury the proverbial hatchet by temporarily ditching David, as well as everything and everyone else, by leaving the mainland and heading on out to a more secluded rural spot featuring lakes; lake-houses; woods and isolated manor houses. Once there, at this somewhat desolate; cold; murky and rather frightening place, the film will cover events from thirteen years ago when she was barely out of her teenaged years and a love affair-come-friendship with young boy Henrik (Malmsten) doubling up as her first love. The harking back begins with the travelling by boat, each item acting as its own landmark upon which Marie's memory acts on particular cues, and Henrik's admitting to feeling for her through performance or third party spectatorship; specifically, that he has watched her perform many times as a ballerina and has felt how he does through these observations before having even met her.
Once at the island during her flashback, the warm weather and summer surroundings make for perfect conditions as she visits an aunt and uncle that live there; the occupying of a small beach house all by herself and prospect of lake swimming and time off greatly alluring. The weather compliments the deliberately romanticised nature of her memories, her attitude to most of those around her flirtatious and adventurous to say the least; her more recent opinions on these things, we come to feel, nothing but regretful. Her bond with Henrik is highly charged in a sexual manner without there ever being much in the way of embrace; a series of energetic altercations and interactions, in what we assume to be the relatively searing heat, seeing the pair of them wear little for most of the time as sessions of swimming in the nearby lake goes hand in hand with the erotic crawling around on all-fours in front of each other on the shore constructing mere games, while, on occasion, Henrik's own glee at eating wild fruit out of Marie's hands is additional content. Inbetween all of this sees the prancing and gallivanting around inspired by Marie's own occupation as a dancer, the very item that is the reason Henrik feels as he does, occurring.
Where in the past Marie slept in her bathing costume and woke up with a warm, glowing smile on her face as she leaped out of bed to tear open the curtains and then charge into the water to swim, times change. Where once she was happy as could be and couldn't wait to get started in the mornings during this holiday away, solemn and rueful looks around the locale that has remained the same occupy her lone, statue-like figure as she hurtfully reminisces to herself. The film is a painful mediation, but an honest and enthralling enough study of a young woman eventually coming to accept what has happened and, we feel, come to embrace what it is she currently has in her life. In every regard, it is a superior piece of doomed romance captured elegantly on film.
The film covers young Marie (Nilsson), a Swedish ballerina whose mind and whose memories make up the bulk of the film's runtime as she ventures out to a more rural part of her country, but only when the hard graft of bringing to life an incarnation of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake is temporarily halted. Her decision to do so is inspired by a collection of things she receives in the post, her facial reaction occupying most of the frame as a diegetic alarm bell within the theatre she's working sounds off and acts as a fitting soundtrack overlying the imagery. Once back on the floor following the role-call bell and practising again, the film presents us with what appears to be two or three different soundtracks of internal and external music playing over the images, as these rather dramatic dance procedures are presented to us in a relatively close up format whilst the impact of what was read or discovered barely a scene ago resonates. Post practise, a session brought to a premature end following some technical malfunction with required stage equipment, Marie leaves the building with her journalist boyfriend David (Kjellin).
We discover that she has had little time for him recently, the manner in which the production crew drive Marie fresh in our minds; Marie taking this opportunity to bury the proverbial hatchet by temporarily ditching David, as well as everything and everyone else, by leaving the mainland and heading on out to a more secluded rural spot featuring lakes; lake-houses; woods and isolated manor houses. Once there, at this somewhat desolate; cold; murky and rather frightening place, the film will cover events from thirteen years ago when she was barely out of her teenaged years and a love affair-come-friendship with young boy Henrik (Malmsten) doubling up as her first love. The harking back begins with the travelling by boat, each item acting as its own landmark upon which Marie's memory acts on particular cues, and Henrik's admitting to feeling for her through performance or third party spectatorship; specifically, that he has watched her perform many times as a ballerina and has felt how he does through these observations before having even met her.
Once at the island during her flashback, the warm weather and summer surroundings make for perfect conditions as she visits an aunt and uncle that live there; the occupying of a small beach house all by herself and prospect of lake swimming and time off greatly alluring. The weather compliments the deliberately romanticised nature of her memories, her attitude to most of those around her flirtatious and adventurous to say the least; her more recent opinions on these things, we come to feel, nothing but regretful. Her bond with Henrik is highly charged in a sexual manner without there ever being much in the way of embrace; a series of energetic altercations and interactions, in what we assume to be the relatively searing heat, seeing the pair of them wear little for most of the time as sessions of swimming in the nearby lake goes hand in hand with the erotic crawling around on all-fours in front of each other on the shore constructing mere games, while, on occasion, Henrik's own glee at eating wild fruit out of Marie's hands is additional content. Inbetween all of this sees the prancing and gallivanting around inspired by Marie's own occupation as a dancer, the very item that is the reason Henrik feels as he does, occurring.
Where in the past Marie slept in her bathing costume and woke up with a warm, glowing smile on her face as she leaped out of bed to tear open the curtains and then charge into the water to swim, times change. Where once she was happy as could be and couldn't wait to get started in the mornings during this holiday away, solemn and rueful looks around the locale that has remained the same occupy her lone, statue-like figure as she hurtfully reminisces to herself. The film is a painful mediation, but an honest and enthralling enough study of a young woman eventually coming to accept what has happened and, we feel, come to embrace what it is she currently has in her life. In every regard, it is a superior piece of doomed romance captured elegantly on film.