fuck yeah, bergman! @fuckyeahingmarbergman - Tumblr Blog

ennelletti:

neonloneliness:

inennui:

The Seventh Seal (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)

I want to confess all my sins but my heart is empty. That emptiness is a mirror. When I stare into it I only see my reflection and it fills me with loathing and horror.

We're emotional illiterates. We've been taught about anatomy and farming methods in Africa. We've learned mathematical formulas by heart. But we haven't been taught a thing about our souls. We're tremendously ignorant about what makes people tick.

Scenes From a Marriage, (1973)

Scenes from a Marriage (1973)

Fanny and Alexander (1982)

the virgin spring (1960)

all these women, 1964

I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don't have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn't play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn't watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you're forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you're genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don't speak, why you don't move, why you've created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you've left your other parts one by one.

Persona, 1966

all these women, 1964

persona, 1966

hour of the wolf, 1968

liv ullmann with bergman onset for hour of the wolf, 1968

hour of the wolf, 1968

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fuck yeah, bergman!