![]() ![]() At times here he strives for the demonic zip of Strindberg's Inferno and the great dramatist's Homeric marital squabbles. In fact, some of the most shadowy if not repellent faces of his movies-his horror-ridden underside-are left to speak for themselves and go uninterpreted here by Bergman, who either sloughs off his most bilious failures (e.g., The Serpent's Egg) or lets things stand with the comment that he still doesn't believe in God but believes mightily in the creative spirit and his own demons. Sustained and intense, this is by far the best Bergman book from his pen to be seen in English and has none of the flimsiness of his scripts or hyperintellection of his commentators. ![]() ![]() This product of Bergman's old age (his term) shows him ever the maverick, among the century's most fertile and original geniuses, and still loamy with theater works despite ending his film career. ![]()
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