From the Life of the Marionettes (1980)
Directed by Ingmar Bergman

Film Review

From the Life of the Marionettes emerged from one of the bleakest and most turbulent periods in the life of director Ingmar Bergman.   At the time, Bergman was still in his self-imposed exile in West Germany, out of the reach of the Swedish tax authorities who had charged him (wrongly as it turned out) with tax fraud.  He had already made one film in Germany, The Serpent's Egg (1977), a big-budget Hollywood-style epic, but this had been both a critical and commercial failure.

Little wonder then that From the Life of the Marionettes is one of Bergman's darkest, most introspective and most ambiguous works.  It is also one of his most compelling and shows the director at his most inventive - most noticeably in the narrative construction.  The film begins and ends with short sequences in colour, showing the central character Peter about to commit murder and then incarcerated for his crime.  Between these two narrative bookends, there are sequences which alternate between events that precede and follow the killing, all shot in high contrast black-and-white that is, at times, redolent of film noir.  As the narrative progresses, in its strangely beguiling elliptical fashion, the reason for Peter's dramatic breakdown gradually becomes apparent.

From the Life of the Marionettes is a film that is quintessential Bergman, an exploration of existentialist and psychological themes which prevail in so much of his work.  The two most recognisable Bergmanesque motifs - mirrors and dreams - become essential components of the narrative, and provide the film with its two most memorable sequences.  The first is the scene where one character exposes his innermost thoughts whilst seated beside a full-length mirror, giving the impression that the character is splitting into two separate identities.  The second is a stunningly shot dream sequence in which Peter realises the ambiguous nature of his relationship with his wife and literally loses his grip on reality.

Mirrors and dreams are wonderful devices for existentialist navel gazing.  Just as mirrors show us our external form, dreams reveal to us our innermost nature.  Both reflect a reality which neither of them possesses.  But what exactly is reality, and how can it be distinguished from the reflection in a dream or in a mirror?   From the Life of the Marionettes suggests that we can never be sure, and that what we think of as real life may in fact be merely the illusion of life - the imprint of an existence, not existence itself.

The title offers one clue as to what Bergman may have had in mind.  The characters in this film are in no sense free but are controlled, like marionettes, by the influence of others and by inner forces which they cannot rationalise or resist.  Only a man who is ready to commit suicide can be truly free (to paraphrase the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre).  Peter does ultimately manage to gain some measure of freedom (by killing a woman and hence, ironically, condemning himself to life in a tiny prison cell), but only when the pressure of a lifetime of pent-up feelings and an overwhelming sense of confinement become too much to endure.

Duality is another key element of the story - and is another recurring idea in Bergman's cinema. This notion, that every individual has two very distinct, opposing identities, underpins several of Bergman's films - notably The Silence (1963) and Persona (1966).  The character Peter is one of the best examples of this - outwardly normal, professional and well-mannered, inwardly repressed, child-like and self-destructive.   The film attempts to explain the origin of Peter's split-personality in order to account for the murder, but it becomes equally apparent that every other character in the story has two sides to his or her character.  Again, the mirror metaphor comes into play.  As they ponder the paradox that is Peter, those who know him reveal the darker sides of their own characters.  No one can walk in this world without a shadow...

Film Synopsis

One evening, successful businessman Peter Egermann pays a visit to a brothel where he meets and kills a prostitute.  What could have driven such a seemingly well-adjusted young man to perform this random act of brutality?  His wife Katarina was devoted to him and, apart from a few brief extra-marital adventures, they seemed to be the perfect wedded couple.  His psychiatrist friend reveals that, shortly before the tragedy, Peter came to him in a distressed state, anxious that he might kill his wife...