REVIEW: Faithlessness that flies high and falls hard
Vladimíra Géherová, Pravda, 8 January 2019 14:00
Bergman – blissful or cursed? A happy man whose work does penance by the feet of his personal demons and allows him to attain the view of an impartial observer, or a wretch condemned to eternal purgatory and sipping wine with the skeletons?
Deciding the answer to this question is no easy task, especially in the case of the world-renowned Swedish author, where both paths usually intertwine and confront in fruitful symbiosis. The task is made no easier by the new theatrical adaptation Faithless, created after Bergman’s screenplay of the same name, loosely based on the artist’s own life experience.
Actress Marianne (Marta Maťová) leads a serene life besides her husband Markus (Daniel Žulčák), a reputable conductor, whom she has given a daughter, Isabelle. The two like to spend their evenings with a mutual friend, the talented but somewhat short-tempered director David (Daniel Fischer). Circumstances eventually transform an initially platonic bond between Marianne and David into a passionate relationship the actress finds herself unable to resist despite knowing she is losing her family for good.
When Bergman wrote his love triangle tragedy, he only cast himself in the role of the screenwriter. To achieve a proper distance from the work, he entrusted it to his muse Liv Ullman, who directed a film of the same name in 2000. But the opportunity to peer into the mind of a master, especially when it hands itself over of its own accord, is too alluring an offer to be passed over by future generations. Director Matúš Bachynec has decided to step up to the task and has achieved a sophisticatedly condensed sense of anxiety on an intimate space without pointing an accusing finger at either of the parties involved.
In the sanctuary whose limits was Bergman’s imagination, flowers have always been put at the foot of the bed. Set designer Barbora Šajgalíková too gave the bed centre stage. Her guidance allowed Scandinavian minimalism and simplicity to materialise in the elaborate retrospective of the ageing artist. Not a minimalism with the aftertaste of soulless mass production but one whose clear intention is to disburden the audience from unnecessary visual clutter. Even in this reduced form, the set fulfils its purpose. By its purity and simplicity, it contrasts with the decisions that, one by one, unveil the darkest recesses of the human soul.
In his theatrical adaptation, Bachynec took up the gauntlet thrown down by Bergman (Viliam Hriadel), who is portrayed as the director of his own story. The whole point is to “play and fantasise,” as Bergman innocuously calls it when he draws his characters onto stage. Marianne, Markus and David all at first agree to his game and readily follow his instructions, but the unreserved obedience they show to their creator eventually turns against him. Suddenly, he is forced to confront their pain and the consequences of actions that, in the guise of David’s character, bear down on his shoulders.
It is precisely the shift of narrative perspective that provides Bachynec with an opportunity to play with the dynamics of theatrical adaptation and so to serve the audience gradual doses of the unbearable bitterness that accompanies a loss of trust. And so, Bergman often interrupts emotionally exhausting scenes by shutting a clapstick, or does matter–of–fact banter about his characters’ problems. Yet these moments of apparent repose that separate moments of genuine hopelessness are a trap both for Bergman and the audience. Just as the looped ambient soundtrack and the projected footage of the sea tide on the background, symbolising a changeless state of the world, compared to which any fate, even the most tragic, pales into insignificance.
The actors’ performances were crucial in helping the story maintain its credibility. Viliam Hriadel was capably seconded by his younger alter-ego, Daniel Fischer, the latter having already seen some Bergman in the Slovak National Theatre’s production of Fanny and Alexander. Marta Maťová, too, managed her role sensibly and without undue affectation, and in fact remained the only female character in the play after the authors were forced to leave out the character of her daughter Isabelle. Her Marianne is pragmatic, feminine but also fragile, and the authors chose to emphasise this by having her wear nothing but nightwear. Daniel Žulčák perhaps stood out least from among his colleagues, but this allowed him all the more to channel certain demonic traits that contrast sharply with his image of a TV series actor.
Faithless at Studio 12 offers a bitter study of relationships. We as the audience anticipate disaster, but just as those involved in faithlessness, we willingly submit to an illusion stemming from momentary elation and fulfilment of desire. The higher it flies, however, the harder it falls in the end. It’s just a game, we’re fantasising, Bergman would say – but are these the words of a happy man or a sinner?
Pravda’s Rating
5 out of 5 stars
Ingmar Bergman: Faithless / Directed by: Matúš Bachynec / Cast: Marta Maťová, Viliam Hriadel, Daniel Fischer, Daniel Žulčák / Premiered on 11 December 2018 at Studio 12
