Shortly after learning about death of the great Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman last Monday, I sat still for about 10 hours reading every single news items in the web in complete denial and utter shock. I checked countless message boards where fans of the late maverick flocked to pay their tribute, share their sorrow, and explain what Bergman s films meant to them. Paul Schrader, Woody Allen, Richard Attenborough, David Mamet, Roger Ebert, Stephen Holden, Richard Corliss and many Bergman fans published their eulogies to the master few hours after the news broke out. I couldn t though. After all, how could a single article give Bergman his due? How could it comprehensively cover one of the richest cinematic bodies of works? How can it encompass all of Bergman s themes, fears, loves and failures? But then I stumbled upon one short, heartbreakingly poignant note of a young fan that compared Bergman s death to losing her father. As I stared for several minutes on that note, I decided follow the young woman s suite. To skip all the facts, history or critical analysis of his work and lay it down as a fan, as a student whose entire life was largely shaped by his dear mentor. Like most Bergman s fans, the first film I saw of his was The Seventh Seal in the late 90s when I fell into the serious foreign cinema s enchanting spell. Empire, Sight & Sound, El Fan El Sabae film publications never grew relentless from mentioning Bergman and extensively discussing his works years after he directed his last movie Fanny & Alexander in 1982. My interest in Bergman was mounting and reached its peak when my sister purchased me his cinematic autobiography Images soon after. I finally got my hands on an old, ragged VHS copy of Seal from e-bay that marked the first step of long quest to watch, study and savor the 50 + films of the old Swede. As I curiously followed the verbal exchange of Death with Max von Sydow s knight, I began to be drifted slowly into the deep abyss of Bergman s dark desolate universe. One scene from the film always lingered in my mind: When Antonius Block, returning from the atrocities of the crusades to a plague-stricken Sweden, kneels in a chapel and asks God to show him his way, to explicate all horrors innocent men have to endure, and to break his long growing silence. Faith is a torment. It is like loving someone who is out there in the darkness but never appears, no matter how loudly you call, the beleaguered knight whispered as my entire existence started to fumble. Bergman was raising questions no one in the closed, homogonous Egyptian society ever dared to bring up; questions that led me to Sartre, Kierkegaard, Kafka, Antonioni and a whole world of ideas, insights and more questions. What if there s no heaven or hell? What if we cease to exist after dying? That all what lies in the afterlife is pure nothingness? Bergman wondered, and so did I. By the time the iconic dance-of-death scene played on screen, a deep dread of death infused my heart and despite my own separate convictions, I m still unable to shake off this fear till this very moment. My second stop at Bergman s gloomy park would be Through a Glass Darkly, the first part of his trilogy of faith. The comedy Smiles of a Summer Night was next, followed by Autumn Sonata, Persona, Hour of the Wolf, Cries and Whispers and many others. With each film of his, I could easily identify with him. His demons were the same ones that haunted me; his personal shortcomings weren t worlds away from mine and indulging in the dream world of childhood and arts, like him, became my one true haven. The majority of Bergman s films and theater works were driven by his inner torment, the cruelty of his Lutheran priest father and the occasional remoteness of his mother he never managed to forget or overcome. Are humans sincerely capable for forgiveness? He always contemplated, and so did I. Failure in communication, existential angst and the search for meaning, emotional estrangement and human alienation were some of his other staple themes; themes that have influenced everything I ve written and changed my perspective of modern world and life. Bergman s world was rarely a cheerful place to visit, but, and despite all the morbidity, the intense bare emotions, constant agony and overwhelming bewilderment, there was always a strong sense of comfort, liberation and serenity. There is no pretense in Bergman s world, no false promises or hypocrisy and no half -truths. In all the ostensible cruelty, coldness, and boiling emotions; a sense of purity and wholesomeness permanently prevails. Most of all though, and behind Bergman s icy veneer, lies a humanitarian who never lost faith in humanity and the healing power of love. It s rare not to find a tiny streak of hope behind the grand pessimistic outline of his films. The world, according to Bergman, is place of misery, mendacity, loneliness and despair and the only salvation for man is love; believing in the goodwill of each other and clutching on those few moments of happiness. Perhaps no other Bergman film embodying this philosophy more than Cries and Whispers. The film, which revolves around a woman dying excruciatingly from cancer while her two sisters wait by her bedside, ends when the two find a note by their sister describing a perfect day when the pain wasn t too strong. This is happiness. I cannot wish for anything better, she writes. I feel profoundly grateful to my life, which gives me so much. Bergman was married more than five times, indulged into numerous affairs, was a bad father who never cared much about his children and his anxiety about death didn t wane a single day. The most joyful moments of his life, such as his creative freewheeling days with Bibi Anderson or his legendary relationship with Liv Ullman, were rooted in his work. Without his art, Bergman would fall into a deep void, lost into the endless wastelands of meaninglessness. Ingmar Bergman was not just another great filmmaker; he was the greatest filmmaker of all time. Like Corliss and Schrader, he was my idol and the reason why I became who I am now. I m still trying to create a sanctuary for others that Bergman created for me, and everything I ll end up accomplishing would probably be just another attempt to emulate him. I hope he could find all the peace in the afterlife, to have all the questions that troubled him on earth answered. I wish he could know how much his fans loved him, how much his works provided us with comfort and hope. Thank you for the life you graciously granted us Mr. Bergman. The world s never going to be the same without you.
