SYNOPSIS
Fanny and Alexander exists in an interesting place in Swedish cinema. It’s the “last” film of its defining director and the most expensive Swedish film made (at that point). Bergman had insisted publicly that it would be his last film, as filmmaking had become too arduous a task for him (of course, he went on to direct works for television that eventually made it to the big screen, and write movies for other directors: Billie August and Liv Ullman among them). Expectations were enormous; Bergman himself called it “the total sum of my life as a filmmaker.” Everyone was ready to either venerate or eviscerate the film. Some people said that Bergman had sold out (Fanny and Alexander, after all, is probably Bergman’s warmest, most accessible film), others that he merely lost his touch (after all, it had been several years since his last generally acclaimed masterpiece, Cries and Whispers). Twenty-five years later, however, the majority verdict that Bergman had created a masterpiece for the ages holds the most weight. It’s the kind of work that only a man nearing the end of his career (if not his life: Bergman kept plugging on despite his stomach ailment) could make. It’s a film that could only have been made by someone who invested so much into cinema.
