Ingmar Bergman described his compulsion to create Persona (1966) as “a sort of truth crisis”, through which he concluded that “the only form of truth is silence” (Gado, 1986, p. 322). Inspired by the work of Finnish philosopher Eino Kaila, Bergman believed that man lives according to his wants – whether positive or negative – and to ignore those wants may result in inauthentic living. This essay will argue that Persona functions as an exploration of authenticity through the volatile obsession that nurse Alma (Bibi Anderson) has for her silent patient Elisabet (Liv Ullmann), as she navigates the disparity between her self-perception and her reality.
Persona is a film of two halves; in the first, nurse Alma begins to care for famous actress Elisabet who, due to a mysterious illness, is now mute. When Elisabet is sent to a remote island to recuperate under doctor’s orders, Alma joins her and soon becomes infatuated with the silent woman. In her isolation, Alma begins to overshare her deepest secrets, including tales of her infidelity and subsequent abortion, telling Elisabet “I think you’re the first person who’s ever listened to me”. Elisabet gives small smiles and gestures which serve to reassure Alma that she is indeed listening. Livingston (2009) argues that “desires and feelings steer attention in ways that can be gratifying but not necessarily truth-indicative. We can call this self-deception” (pp. 175-176). For Alma, her obsession with receiving Elisabet’s attention, and even becoming like the actress herself – “I should probably be able to turn myself into you” - overpowers her previous doubts about Elisabet’s character, such as when she had noticed a ‘severe’ look in her eyes. It is not until Alma reads Elisabet’s letter to her doctor, where she describes Alma as being “in love with [her] in an unconscious and charming way”, that Alma is awoken to reality; her fascination is unrequited.
Figure 1: Alma Stares at her own reflection after reading Elisabet’s letter.
Gado (1986) describes this shift at the midway point of the film as the moment where Alma begins to “struggle for dignity as a separate individual” (p. 332) from Elisabet. Bergman illustrates this disconnect in a wide shot, which depicts Alma staring into lake (Fig 1.), watching her reflection, after reading the letter which carries Elisabet’s betrayal. This is one of Bergman’s many depictions of the mirror image, a recurring motif throughout the film, which Cowie (1982) argues illustrates “the notion that the image staring back at one from a mirror is a double, the other half of one’s psyche” (p. 233). Throughout Persona there are instances where Alma and Elisabet’s characters are portrayed as being divided in two; Bergman merges their faces, as though they are two halves of a whole. However, in Alma’s reflection in the lake lies her solitude. Here, Bergman showcases her vulnerability in her isolation; her self-doubt leads her to act in retaliation to Elisabet’s rejection of her, and she becomes reflexively violent, and thus acts in a manner which is inauthentic to how she feels. Firstly, Alma leaves broken glass in Elisabet’s path, tempting the possibility that Elisabet may cut her bare foot on the shard. In another scene, Alma threatens Elisabet with a pot of boiling water. While Alma is overcome with love for Elisabet, upon facing rejection her violence becomes a personification of Bergman’s philosophy that “it is better to face the grim truth, including the fact that we cannot have what we want, than to make the mistake of finding satisfaction through surrogates” (Livingston, 2009, p. 190). In substituting Elisabet’s love and attention, which Alma craves, with acts of violence, Alma reflects the irrational behaviour that Bergman considers to be a product of dissatisfaction when one’s ‘wants’ are not met.
An insight into Bergman’s approach to Persona lies in his choice of title; Persona’s Latin translation is ‘mask’, which Lauder (1987) claims represents, among other things, “Bergman’s personal agony at wearing a mask” (p. 52) to supress his true emotions. The concept of masking one’s feelings, or more generally the idea of inauthentic communication, is prevalent throughout Persona, most notably in Elisabet’s lack of communication. While Elisabet is silent, however, intercut throughout the film are scenes where there is an emphasis placed on the screen itself as a medium of communication - from the young boy present in the opening sequence (perhaps Bergman himself), watching the faces of Alma and Elisabet as though through glass, to cuts midway through the film displaying Alma’s face rapidly distorting before images of a crucifixion flash across the screen. Given the disconcerting nature of these images, and the speed with which they are cut, we may interpret them as deconstructions of reality – such as dream sequences; Bergman himself said that “the reality we experience today is in fact as absurd, as horrible, as obtrusive as our dreams… I think that there are no boundaries between dream and reality today” (Cowie, 1982, p. 234). The elements of dream and puzzling images that appear throughout Persona add yet another dimension to discussions of authenticity. Not only are the character’s actions inauthentic – whether Alma’s violence or Elisabet’s letter – but this unreliable style renders the very medium through which these actions are communicated as inauthentic. Simply put, there are “too many levels, too many possible interpretations” (Lauder, 1987, p. 52) of the film for one conclusive reality to be drawn.
Wood (as cited in Lauder, 1987, p. 53) describes Bergman as a man “fully and sensitively (hence very painfully) alive to the pressures and tensions of the world”. Throughout Persona Bergman creates questions of authenticity through his ambiguous portrayal of the painfully emotional relationship between Alma and Elisabet. He employs stylistic techniques, such as cuts and merges, to blur the lines between the individuality of the two women. These techniques both make it unclear which character is acting authentically, in accordance with their own feelings, and creates a discrepancy between the reality of the characters, and the ‘reality’ or dream-like state that the audience experiences. Through the use of these techniques, then, it becomes clear that in Persona, very little is clear at all.
Cowie, P. (1982). Ingmar Bergman. New York City, NY: Charles Scribner Sons.
Gado, F. (1986). The Passion of Ingmar Bergman. Durham: Duke University Press.
Lauder, R. (1987). Ingmar Bergman: Filmmaker as Philosopher. Philosophy & Theology, 2(1), 44 – 56.
Livingston, P. (2009). Cinema, Philosophy, Bergman: On Film as Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Filmography
Persona (1966) dir. Ingmar Bergman, Sweden.