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The depths of angst are plumbed in master filmmaker Ingmar Bergman's trilogy -- called such by the director for the films' relating themes of life, family, and faith. Bleak yet beautiful, the films are relentless in their meditations on loneliness, fear, and all the melancholic emotions that have since become associated with 1960s European art cinema. Indeed, Bergman's deliberate pacing and somber tones were at the time seen as benchmarks, though in the scope of the director's work, these films marked an artistic turning point away from metaphysical allegory and toward the more humanist "chamber dramas" that would inform his subsequent work. The stories and characters in these films do not necessarily interconnect, but they do share metaphorical links in their questioning of life: Through the Glass Darkly's treatment of Harriet Andersson's mental illness, drawing a fuzzy line between it and spirituality, has the backdrop of a taut family drama, complete with incommunicative loved ones and unspoken emotion between Gunnar Björnstrand, Max von Sydow, and Lars Passgård. (The film is also the trilogy's best known, having won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.) The specter of religion returns in Winter Light, in which Björnstrand's pastor struggles with his faith, the love of Ingrid Thulin's doting schoolmarm, and the suicide of von Sydow, one of his few parishioners. The trilogy's final entry, The Silence, takes place almost entirely within one hotel in a foreign city where three Swedes are passing through. Again, life's philosophies arise in a familial context, as Thulin's sickly, drunken intellectual is bedridden while her sensual sister (Gunnel Lindblom) -- with whom she may be having an incestuous affair -- seeks carnal pleasures while essentially ignoring her young son (Jörgen Lindström). Aided by Sven Nykvist's black-and-white cinematography, for which the word "lush" does little justice, Bergman's brilliant trilogy is succinct yet penetrating, and a must-see for film buffs. Tony Nigro

All Movie Guide

The first of Ingmar Bergman's trilogy that includes Winter Light and The Silence, Through a Glass Darkly is a stunning and bleak character study of a family disintegrating both in spite of and because of its "best" efforts to stay together. It is also a study of the existence of God or the lack thereof, and the desperate need for love and the near impossibility of attaining the same. Through a Glass Darkly is an astonishing cinematic experience, one that is painful but so involving that most viewers will submit to the experience willingly. Still, it is not without its flaws. Gunnar Björnstrand's performance seems somewhat out of kilter with the piece, as if the actor did not understand the character's role in the drama, and Lars Passgård's role is a little too surface-oriented; he knows what he's doing but doesn't seem totally committed. However, Max Von Sydow hits all the right notes, and Harriet Andersson is nothing less than brilliant, giving a fully realized and amazingly detailed performance that anchors the picture. If the script's ending is a trifle over-explained, the rest of the screenplay is a model of nuanced, balanced writing, and Bergman's direction is intense and taut throughout. Sven Nykvist's subtle cinematography, with beautifully framed compositions and long, slow pans, is an invaluable aid; the opening shot of calm, placid water disturbed by the family's arrival sets the tone of the picture in an instant. A searing examination of alienation and loneliness, Through a Glass Darkly is a powerful film that leaves a lasting impression. Craig Butler

The second film in his trilogy on faith, Ingmar Bergman's Winter Light (1962) is an austere chamber piece that encapsulates a pastor's theological crisis within one Sunday afternoon. Suffering from an emotional shut-down and a spiritual void, the priest's ability to hear only "God's silence" permeates the film, beginning with the opening recitation of the Lord's Prayer superimposed over shots of the parish's desolate, snow-covered houses. Featuring no music, few sets, a small cast, and stark black-and-white photography by Sven Nykvist, Bergman's spare style is an intense complement to the central dilemma; whether they are shown in close-ups or in long shots dwarfed by their surroundings, the characters exist in a literal isolation that has no solution or outlet. A harsh, powerful study of religious and personal alienation, Winter Light is a testament to Bergman's formidable artistic control -- and not a film for those seeking escapist entertainment. Lucia Bozzola

The third entry in Ingmar Bergman's trilogy about faith and redemption (with Through A Glass Darkly and Winter Light) is a stark and enigmatic allegory fueled by subtle performances from Ingrid Thulin and Gunnel Lindblom. Thulin plays Ester, a translator and intellectual, who is traveling back to Sweden on a train with her younger sister Anna (Linblom) and Anna's son Johan (Jorgen Lindstrom). They stop in the town of Timuku and check into an old hotel in a foreign land where the language cannot be understood by the three travelers. Ester, who suffers from a terminal lung disease, is very protective towards Anna; but Anna resents being tied down by her sickly sister, and she leaves the hotel room, picking up a waiter (Birger Malmsten in a nearby café. Returning to the hotel room, Anna tells Ester about her sexual encounter with the waiter, and Ester becomes sexually aroused. Anna leaves for another room in the hotel to continue making love with the waiter. Johan helps Ester track Anna down Anna, and Anna and the waiter proceed to make love a third time. This provokes a violent and biter argument between the two sisters. Paul Brenner

Product Details

• UPC: 037429181522
• Source: CRITERION
• Aspect Ratio: Pre-1954 Standard (1.33.1)
• Presentation: B&W
• Sound: Dolby Digital Mono
• Subtitles: English
• Time: 6:50:00
• Sales Rank: 4,952

This set contains DVDs which may be available separately:

• Through A Glass Darkly
• Winter Light
• Tystnaden

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