Three women, Cecilia (Cissi), Hjörsid and Stina find themselves together in the maternity ward, they're all pregnant but the situations are different. Sadly enough, so are the outcomes.
Indeed, we all took the 'miracle' of life for granted, a proof of God's almighty existence. How about miscarriage then? Does it conjure up our faith? A rational mind would look for medical reasons, a religious one for someone to blame... but sometimes, even reason is powerless and can't hold back the floods of guilt pouring over the heart.
And so the point is less to bring the right answers but the most comforting ones. This is why there's a fourth important protagonist in the head nurse Brita (Barbro Hiort af Ornäs) who's learned to deal with the irrational excesses of pregnant women especially in the latest phases: guilt, grief, joy... as a guardian angel, not a God-like figure for God's absence is a Bergmanian trope.
The film opens with Cissi (Ingrid Thullin) whose blood between her legs leaves no room for optimism. Her husband (Erland Josephson) blabbers some encouraging words but way too civilized and not too anxious to be sincere. It doesn't matter, if a mother can feel the deliverance from the pain, she can feel the loss as well. The film opens with a tragedy foreshadowed by the little doll dropped by a girl, Cissi is brought in the examination room, left alone for a while, so we can feel her loneliness and asked those cold and clinical questions that contain the administrative necessities of a hospital. Later, a doctor comes, from his stern look Cissi knows she's lost her child.
The doctor (Gunnar Sjöberg) insists the baby was doomed, her thoughts were far beyond these considerations. The death of her child marks the end of her failed marriage that she blames. Her husband didn't like her enough and she didn't have the strength to carry on. Maybe under the effect of medics, she delivers a long monologue to Nurse Brita accusing herself for the loss of her child, from the black-and-white contrast, the intensity of the closeup and her breathless delivery, it looks like a deathbed confession. But that's the point, any endeavor in the name of life is haunted by the scepter of death.
And as I said for "The Seventh Seal", death is tragic but it's more sincere than God. It is present at least and it triggers direct reactions, in Cissi's case: a divorce. Oddly enough, happy events never strike us as worthy of metaphysical explanations, but we all look for a meaning to sadness or tragedies, as if the idea of a randomly cruel destiny would be more unbearable than the cruelty itself. Now, I doubt there's a delight in Bergman's desire to confront his heroines to the cruelty of destiny but he does highlight some ironies that can be tough to handle.
Among the patients, there's the young Hjördis (Bibi Andersson) a gamin-like girl, who failed to sabotage her pregnancy, her child resisted... her counsellor (Ann-Marie Gyllenspetz) begged her to embrace her maternity, arguing that the social welfare had made progresses, pregnancy out of wedlock isn't taboo anymore and from her insistance, it's guessable that she doesn't have the key for that treasure the childlike free-spirited Hjördis insolently throws to the bin. She doesn't care, she doesn't find babies adorables and doesn't understand why she should be enthused by the perspective of bringing someone to life when she knows how much of a burden it is.
Finally there's Stina (Eve Dhalbeck) who is so eager to have a child, she's almost dizzy of happiness, she talks with her child, confident that he's a boy, she's so happy that even Cissi doesn't envy her. If there's ever a woman who deserves to be a mother, it's her... and God would be quite cruel if things didn't go as expected. And so our anxiety is proportional to her excitement and let's say the outcome of her pregnancy can be considered as happy, that if you consider the Lord's mysterious ways. It's not a "giveth and taketh" thing but Bergman finds a powerful way to make these three storylines converge toward a satisfying conclusion.
"Brink of Life" is a simple yet complex exploration of the pervert waltz between life and death in birth. It's not just about the death of the child but the way it can mark the symbolic birth of a new person within the mother. At the end, one woman gets resigned, one toughens up and one softens... so it can't be that bad. But Bergman is not making a statement against mariage, Stina form such a happy couple with Harry (Max Von Sydow), nor an ode to celibacy, Cissi's sister-in-law (Inga Landgré) finds the right words to warn her against the temptation of loneliness. Finally, one can't accuse the ultimate 'existence-is-a-burden' director to be pro-life.
In fact, there's more life in the film than what the review suggests, the three women are like born-again through pregnancy, playing like little girls pampering and brushing each other, or crying in one's shoulder (we get many Pieta shots that predicts the iconic nurse shot in "Cries and Whispers"). One of the most inspiring moments is when Hjördis calls her mother and asks for Brita to hold her hand. If not on God, we can always keep our faith on mothers, at least they do answer... it was a nice touch to conclude this harrowing film with a light of hope. And fittingly, the four actress won a collective prize at Cannes Festival, and Bergman one for Best Director.
As a man, Bergman should be the least entitled to philosophize around the subject of pregnancy. But the power of his camera work, the hard-hitting truth of Ulla Isaakson's writing and the powerhouse performances of the four actresses contributed to one of the best films about pregnancy, as a double-edged blessing or an existential burden, or both.
Indeed, we all took the 'miracle' of life for granted, a proof of God's almighty existence. How about miscarriage then? Does it conjure up our faith? A rational mind would look for medical reasons, a religious one for someone to blame... but sometimes, even reason is powerless and can't hold back the floods of guilt pouring over the heart.
And so the point is less to bring the right answers but the most comforting ones. This is why there's a fourth important protagonist in the head nurse Brita (Barbro Hiort af Ornäs) who's learned to deal with the irrational excesses of pregnant women especially in the latest phases: guilt, grief, joy... as a guardian angel, not a God-like figure for God's absence is a Bergmanian trope.
The film opens with Cissi (Ingrid Thullin) whose blood between her legs leaves no room for optimism. Her husband (Erland Josephson) blabbers some encouraging words but way too civilized and not too anxious to be sincere. It doesn't matter, if a mother can feel the deliverance from the pain, she can feel the loss as well. The film opens with a tragedy foreshadowed by the little doll dropped by a girl, Cissi is brought in the examination room, left alone for a while, so we can feel her loneliness and asked those cold and clinical questions that contain the administrative necessities of a hospital. Later, a doctor comes, from his stern look Cissi knows she's lost her child.
The doctor (Gunnar Sjöberg) insists the baby was doomed, her thoughts were far beyond these considerations. The death of her child marks the end of her failed marriage that she blames. Her husband didn't like her enough and she didn't have the strength to carry on. Maybe under the effect of medics, she delivers a long monologue to Nurse Brita accusing herself for the loss of her child, from the black-and-white contrast, the intensity of the closeup and her breathless delivery, it looks like a deathbed confession. But that's the point, any endeavor in the name of life is haunted by the scepter of death.
And as I said for "The Seventh Seal", death is tragic but it's more sincere than God. It is present at least and it triggers direct reactions, in Cissi's case: a divorce. Oddly enough, happy events never strike us as worthy of metaphysical explanations, but we all look for a meaning to sadness or tragedies, as if the idea of a randomly cruel destiny would be more unbearable than the cruelty itself. Now, I doubt there's a delight in Bergman's desire to confront his heroines to the cruelty of destiny but he does highlight some ironies that can be tough to handle.
Among the patients, there's the young Hjördis (Bibi Andersson) a gamin-like girl, who failed to sabotage her pregnancy, her child resisted... her counsellor (Ann-Marie Gyllenspetz) begged her to embrace her maternity, arguing that the social welfare had made progresses, pregnancy out of wedlock isn't taboo anymore and from her insistance, it's guessable that she doesn't have the key for that treasure the childlike free-spirited Hjördis insolently throws to the bin. She doesn't care, she doesn't find babies adorables and doesn't understand why she should be enthused by the perspective of bringing someone to life when she knows how much of a burden it is.
Finally there's Stina (Eve Dhalbeck) who is so eager to have a child, she's almost dizzy of happiness, she talks with her child, confident that he's a boy, she's so happy that even Cissi doesn't envy her. If there's ever a woman who deserves to be a mother, it's her... and God would be quite cruel if things didn't go as expected. And so our anxiety is proportional to her excitement and let's say the outcome of her pregnancy can be considered as happy, that if you consider the Lord's mysterious ways. It's not a "giveth and taketh" thing but Bergman finds a powerful way to make these three storylines converge toward a satisfying conclusion.
"Brink of Life" is a simple yet complex exploration of the pervert waltz between life and death in birth. It's not just about the death of the child but the way it can mark the symbolic birth of a new person within the mother. At the end, one woman gets resigned, one toughens up and one softens... so it can't be that bad. But Bergman is not making a statement against mariage, Stina form such a happy couple with Harry (Max Von Sydow), nor an ode to celibacy, Cissi's sister-in-law (Inga Landgré) finds the right words to warn her against the temptation of loneliness. Finally, one can't accuse the ultimate 'existence-is-a-burden' director to be pro-life.
In fact, there's more life in the film than what the review suggests, the three women are like born-again through pregnancy, playing like little girls pampering and brushing each other, or crying in one's shoulder (we get many Pieta shots that predicts the iconic nurse shot in "Cries and Whispers"). One of the most inspiring moments is when Hjördis calls her mother and asks for Brita to hold her hand. If not on God, we can always keep our faith on mothers, at least they do answer... it was a nice touch to conclude this harrowing film with a light of hope. And fittingly, the four actress won a collective prize at Cannes Festival, and Bergman one for Best Director.
As a man, Bergman should be the least entitled to philosophize around the subject of pregnancy. But the power of his camera work, the hard-hitting truth of Ulla Isaakson's writing and the powerhouse performances of the four actresses contributed to one of the best films about pregnancy, as a double-edged blessing or an existential burden, or both.