Fanny and Alexander

There are certain films that resonate so strongly that you can remember the precise circumstances when you first saw them. It was a warm, sunny September afternooon in 1983 when I first saw Fanny and Alexander, Ingmar Bergman's epic masterpiece. I saw it in the Cinema II, the basement screen of the complex of theaters across the street from Bloomingdale's in New York. I had probably taken the bus in to the city to see it, as at the time I was a new college graduate working at a local job in town (Ringwood, New Jersey).

I remember being stunned as I walked out of the theater in a daze. The film was easily the best film I saw that year, and left me emotionally drained. Where Bergamn succeeds most, I think, is presenting the wonderful world where the children live before their father dies, and then contrasts it with the horrible world when their mother marries the bishop. It's all very Dickensian, but with the supernatural added (the magic of the Jewish family, and the prevalance of ghosts).

I had not seen the film since then, but looked at the DVD on Sunday, and then again last night, this time with the excellent commentary of Bergman scholar Peter Cowle (I hope I have his name right). I suppose I had stayed away from it so long because I didn't want to spoil the initial reaction. I understand that in Sweden, it is shown every Christmas, so I'm sure they think of it like we do It's a Wonderful Life. But this film is much more powerful, and I don't think I could watch it year after year.

Fanny and Alexander also exists as a five-hour television series, which is included in the DVD boxed set. I only rented the theatrical version from Netflix, so perhaps one day I will have to take a look at the longer form.