There is something so tranquil, so peaceful, so lived-in about Mia Hansen-Løve’s Bergman Island, a snapshot of a couple simply existing that feels almost voyeuristic. We watch as Vicky Krieps’ Chris and Tim Roth’s Tony — she a burgeoning indie filmmaker, he a beloved, well-established one — take a plane, a car and a boat to the island of Fårö, where Ingmar Bergman shot many of his films and spent the latter part of his life.
It’s a bit of a work trip as Tony screens his latest film there, and Chris comes along in hopes of finding inspiration for her next screenplay. But their time on the island is also deeply steeped in the mystique of Bergman’s life. In the years since his passing, the iconic Swedish filmmaker has come to define the island in a way only the truly (and eerily) dedicated might enjoy. The couple do everything from a “Bergman Safari” — in which tourists can trace a path from the director’s film sets to his grave — to sleeping in the bedroom where he shot Scenes From a Marriage, a film that, as the two are reminded, led to “the divorce of millions.”
For much of Bergman Island, that’s all there is to it — and that’s enough. The pair talk, they write (he more than she, as she struggles to find her creative footing), they sightsee, they eat, they enjoy their alone time (she more than he) and their time together. But they also never bicker, which is something we’d likely see in most portraits of a long-married couple. In that sense, Bergman Island feels like a film about, well, nothing — except the necessary space between us, in a way akin to a less tumultuous Before Midnight. It is, very literally, scenes from a marriage, but a comfortable one.
But Bergman Island is also an examination of the space between reality and fiction, as the second half of the film takes an unexpected but seamless turn. One morning, as Chris tells Tony about the state of her draft so far, the movie pivots to another narrative. In this one, Mia Wasikowska stars as Amy, a well-known American director who has come to Fårö for a friend’s wedding. While there, she reignites a years-long but ill-fated affair with a man named Joseph (Anders Danielsen Lie), whom she based a previous film on. Suddenly, elements of dread, anxiety and excitement are added to the mix as the film flips between the two narratives.
There’s a fascinating glue holding these stories together. Wasikowska and Krieps share an unmistakably similar emotional porousness, though Amy is far more bold than Chris. Krieps, beguiling as ever, appears to be something of an analog for Hansen-Løve, whose personal history serves as subtext. Hansen-Løve, formerly an actor, was once in a 15-year relationship with the more established French director Olivier Assayas, who directed her in two films. The pair, like Tony and Chris, share a daughter (who, in a fun coincidence, is named Vicky). This interconnectedness provides perfect context when, after Chris expresses her fear that she always writes the same thing, Tony reminds her each story will always inevitably be told from a different perspective — at different ages, at different times, with different amounts of experience — and that’s beautiful enough.
As the film moves gently along, it takes its time, narratives blending, the shadowy cinematography adding to the sense that the cast and audience alike are moving through a dream. Amy and Chris even happen to wear some of the same clothing, while faces from Chris’ trip suddenly appear in Amy’s, and small details suggest this may not be a total fabrication, but more of a recollection — an adaptation, even. One that Tony is oblivious to as Chris narrates her work.
Bergman Island feels much like a carefully wrapped secret. Not even necessarily one regarding a past infidelity, but rather the private moments or thoughts that even our most intimate partner won’t — or can’t — ever know. It all makes for a deeply moving and involving meta tale that is far less about Bergman and his style than it is about Hansen-Løve and her style — as well as the ways in which all of our lives intersect with the art we make and are privileged enough to witness.
