A love letter to Ingrid Bergman.
”People saw me in Joan of Arc, and declared me a saint. I'm not. I'm just a woman, another human being.” - Ingrid Bergman.
You know, there are people in this universe who possess the incredible ability to bound you to themselves, to captivate you by their mere existence. Even if you're years, centuries apart from one another. Even if that person isn't aware of your existence, and yet, you can't help but feel that bond stretching between time and continents, like a long red ribbon. That feeling can't be dissected, taken apart piece by piece to be explained, because the beauty of that feeling lies exactly in its mystery, its impossibility and refusal to reveal the meaning behind the reason. You can't grasp it. It just lives in you, lurking within and igniting when you less expect it.
One of my earliest memories: I'm seven years old. I wander around my house aimlessly, thinking about what to occupy myself with, when I happen to stumble into the living room. There sits my grandmother, eyes glued to the old, grainy television screen. I turn around to the screen just in time to see a very beautiful woman sitting beside a piano, stroking the keys in deep contemplation, her head bent slightly downward. For some reason I felt that I literally have stopped breathing.
That movie was called ”Intermezzo”. And that woman's name was Ingrid - Ingrid Bergman, whom I'd later discover to be my grandmother's favorite actress.
Shortly after, my grandmother passed away from cancer. A year went by for the aforementioned scene to repeat itself, only they were showing ”Casablanca”, and it was my grandfather this time, watching the screen, unable to tear his eyes away. And every time Ingrid appeared on screen, he cried.
That was it. That moment in my life defined my love for the classic cinema and filmmaking, and of course, my deepest respect and appreciation for Ingrid Bergman, not only as an actress but also as a person.
Generally, I find myself preferring actors who are able to transcend their emotions to the viewer without using much words. I like when someone is able to be subtly transparent with silence as their only weapon to leave you absolutely breathless and gutted out. And eventually, when they do talk, they leave you shaken once more. To me, Ingrid Bergman was the first actress ever who made me experience that feeling of being gutted out. Utter despair of a woman who's being torn apart between two men in ”Casablanca”; gradual progression between love, seeming insanity, and vengeful rage in ”Gaslight”; the ethereal detachment combined with holy fire of a passion so believable that you just cannot help being overcome with it yourself, in ”Joan of Arc”... What had amazed me the most (and still does, even after all this time) is the difference. The absolute difference between characters and their emotions respectively. The ability to say so much with so little, and often, in a span of literal seconds. I can go on and on.
Bergman is timeless as an actress. But even more so as a human being.
What I find mesmerizing in Ingrid Bergman as a person is (I use the present tense on purpose here) is her refusal to yield to the circumstances. Her ability to face her fears, to make mistakes, but to own, and never give up, her life. Yes, she had experienced plenty of hindrances. Plenty. But she didn't crumble. She lived her life gracefully, and most importantly, she never lost her dignity. And that is what I admire the most.
Ingrid Bergman made me fall in love with cinema and the in the beauty of classical filmmaking. There simply aren't enough words to express my immense gratitude.
P.S. List of my favorite films in no particular order:
”For Whom the Bell Tolls” (1943)
P.P.S. This post will be soon followed by the work analysis of my another favorite Swedish actress. I'm giving you one try to guess who it will be:)
dededos
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
pixelskylines
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
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