Three Strange Loves (1949)
Directed by Ingmar Bergman

Film Review

It wasn't until he directed Three Strange Loves, aka Thirst, that Ingmar Bergman revealed something of the genius for cinematic art  and deep understanding of the human psyche for which he is now revered.  It was his seventh film, coming after a number of uninspired melodramas and poorly received experimental works.  Three Strange Loves isn't a particularly great film but it is, significantly, the first film which is recognisably Bergman-esque, in terms of both style and content.

In the film's uncompromising depiction of a faltering marriage, there are pointers to some of Bergman's later films, notably A Lesson in Love (1954) and Scenes from a Marriage (1973).   As in many of Bergman's subsequent films, the narrative is told primarily from the point of view of the women characters.  Here, Rut is the more familiar Bergman heroine - the victim who, in the course of a life marked by tragedy, has acquired an extraordinary resilience.   Viola (the former mistress of Rut's husband) is Rut's more vulnerable counterpart; her experiences weigh on her, drive her towards mental collapse and ultimately destroy her.  Together, Rut and Viola form a classic Bergman pairing of opposites, the former personifying hope and life, the latter despair and death.

Three Strange Loves was adapted from a collection of short stories by Birgit Tengroth.   The screenplay was written by Herbert Grevenius, a theatre critic who previously worked with Bergman on It Rains on Our Love (1946).  Birgit Tengroth appears in the film in the role of Viola.  The male lead was played by Birger Malmsten, the star of Bergman's earlier film, Music in Darkness (1948).

With Three Strange Loves, Ingmar Bergman is far more adventurous and assured in his narrative construction and cinematographic technique than previously.  With its elliptical narrative and convincing characterisation, it is a much more brooding and mature kind of film than anything Bergman had previously directed.  The one flaw is that the various strands of the film don't come together as a satisfying whole.  The transition from the Rut-Bertil story to the Viola story feels so clumsy that it looks as if two short films have been haphazardly edited together.

Whilst the Viola story has one or two moments of brilliance, it lacks substance - partly because the lesbian aspect of the story had to be toned down to get past the censor.  Far more memorable is the segment in which Rut and her husband are taking a train journey through a war-scarred Germany - the bleakness of what they see providing a stark counterpoint to the state of their dwindling marriage, perhaps opening their eyes to the devastation which separation would mean.

As in many of his later films, Bergman draws on his own experiences - and no other filmmaker had a private life that was as messy and as turbulent as his.  The final snatches of dialogue between Bertil and Rut succinctly sums up the relationship between the sexes.  Husband and wife may be forever separated by an ocean of tears, but a life together is a kind of Hell that is more preferable to the Hell that is a life apart. This is Ingmar Bergman looking on the bright side, with just two failed marriages behind him.

Film Synopsis

In a hotel room, Rut looks back on her life whilst her husband Bertil sleeps.  She recalls the time she had with Raoul, a young officer.  It was a happy romance, until she discovered he had a wife and learnt she was pregnant.  After an abortion which left her sterile and ended her career as a dancer, Rut married Bertil, an impoverished art historian.  The passion has long gone out of their marriage but they stay together, quietly tormenting one another...