A sublimely austere film about the exquisitely unbearable state of being, with the impossibility of a fatherly god made manifest in robotic religious procedure and inevitable crises of faith. The deftness and delicacy of how these conflicts are played out is magnificently achieved through the most sombre of filmic means, finding a redemption in a kind of compassion if not love and certainly no resolution. Superb.
I see this as a story on the natural human longing for purpose, for meaning, love&approval. Yet what happens when you realize that the effort you've made your whole life turns out to be fruitless, that it's possible to live in lies&denial but at what costs? We're all alone in this search for greater meanings after all&Bergman as usually has managed to masterfully reach the darkest chambers of one's troubled mind.
Isto foi fantástico. Não foi o meu Bergman preferido, mas é um retrato brutal da busca por um sentido próprio, após a tragédia, e a paranóia constante de temer/aceitar que nada nunca suplantará o tempo que passou: nem a religião, nem as boas obras, nem o amor.
I would need to rewatch it but like it felt like an exploration of a crisis of faith in a reasonably unlikable man that like at least didn't reduce women to like complete "she doesn't UNDERSTAND" and instead had a woman be the voice about his own inability to like commit to more than shallow relationships with others? I may also only remember the Ingrid Thulin monologue tbh
(...) Ist das der Aufschrei eines Künstlers, dessen Leben genauso kalt schien? Der nicht geben konnte? Wie autobiographisch Nattvardsgästerna tatsächlich ist, werden wir wohl nie herausfinden. Im Herzen ist es ein Film über einen Mann, der sich für Gott hält und versagt.
The priests face is finally fully illuminated in the cold winter light. This is a moment of revelation for him. There is no god. And it is utterly despairing. This is after giving a speech to a suicidal man terrified of nuclear annihilation. It took the intense fear of another man’s suspicions of higher powers at play to make him finally release all feelings on his own conclusion that indeed, there is not.
The style and starkness of Bresson; the timing of a wry comedy... The tragedy of Bergman's youth, repeated as sophisticated farce? Both intellectually sincere & totally devoid of emotion, and marked throughout by the unmistakable type of distance associated with irony. 5 stars not because it's necessarily better than Through a Glass Darkly (which got 4) but because it's only now I'm starting to get this god trilogy.