In every cinephile’s life, there comes a time when the distinction between an objectively good film and its personal likeability is abundantly clear. Masquerading as both a travel guide and an outlet for a couple’s creative angst, Bergman Island is exactly that. Set against a rich filmic culture and a Nordic backdrop that rivals the naturalistic beauty of any Studio Ghibli animation, the film is an essay in self-criticism, yet lacks the emotional nuance needed to drive home the plight of the protagonists.
Making a trip to Fårö in Sweden, creatives Chris and Tony Sanders (played by Vicky Krieps and Tim Roth) spend the summer hoping to find inspiration from the very place Ingmar Bergman shot his films. Meeting a host of locals throughout their stay, the pair begin to find themselves pulled in different directions. As fiction overtakes reality, the fraught relationship between Chris and Tony tears apart.
Regardless of whether its audience is familiar with Bergman’s work or not, the same cultural emphasis and cinematic bite can easily be seen. Works such as 1973’s Scenes from a Marriage (also remade in 2021) are referenced throughout, with actual canon footage providing a tonal context for those coming into Bergman Island afresh. The first half hour conveys itself as a Bergman tour for all, boarding sightseeing buses to tourist destinations in a narrative structure that’s jarring and formulaic. Its script is packed to the rafters with academic talk, posing the question — who has Bergman Island actually been made for?
While the typical cinema goer is sure to be enriched with new information and scenic views, it’s the hardened cinephile that fits Bergman Island’s ideal demographic. The stylistic choice of depicting a film within a film not only explores the frustrations of a stunted writer, it also plays with the fictional microcosms of the self that all creatives will inevitably dabble with. It’s particularly the behaviour and inner-workings of internationally renowned filmmaker Tony that sharpens the age-old gripes of film bods making unagreeable companions. His lack of emotional nuance and subtle assertion of ego make his midpoint of being stood up at the Bergman bus tour all the more justifiable.
As much as Bergman Island hits the nail on the head with its factual stands and external beauty, the humanistic connections are somewhat less believable. The focal relationship between Tony and Chris touches on pairings as a practicality, offering nothing in the way of chemistry or prolonged passion. Dialogue remains curt, while any sense of summer whimsy embodies the form of crashing waves or handsome strangers on hand to whisk away. Understandably, chemistry is most prevalent in Chris’ fictional reality — her protagonist Amy (Mia Wasikowska) wrapped up in the blossoming romance and summer glow that merely stays between the scripted pages. Backed by the Swedish delights of ABBA, Amy is the vehicle of Chris’ excess desire and zest for life that is continuously squashed in the shadows of partner Tony.
Revelling in a cinematography that lingers on the magic of Fårö, director Mia Hansen-Løve holds strong in her reputation of filmic odes to dreamy landscapes. Away from stunning visuals that sing from the screen, Bergman Island is likely to be a narrative journey that divides opinion. While the surface-level allure and informative context make it an excellent technical spectacle, the engagement with its characters remains hit and miss at best. The act of being present is never an easy task to master, yet Tony and Chris’ lack of engagement with the broader picture — and each other — makes for disillusioned viewing.
