Persona (1966)

by Nathan Robertson

Upon finishing Persona I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Its uniqueness makes it feel complicated and intangible. However, the more I’ve thought about it, the more a literal interpretation of its events seem to be the best way to interpret it.

The film itself seems to be very meta, often having breaks in the story to show clips of the beginnings of cinema and even showing Bergman himself on the set of the film. This type of structure plays into the idea of what a persona is, the perception of one’s character by another person. Every character in the film seems to be concerned with the question of, “Who am I?” Identity is at the heart of Persona. But what happens when one allows their identity to be taken over by another?

Persona follows Alma, a nurse who is put in charge of the recovery of well-known actress Elisabet Vogler, who seems to have had a mental breakdown and will no longer speak. Thinking it would be effective, the head nurse sends them to a vacation home she owns for them to be secluded. Everything begins to go awry when Alma, finally having an audience to speak to about her life, shares about a sexual experience she had in the past and describes it as a moment she felt truly alive and happy. Following this conversation, she discovers a letter Elisabet has written which reveals that she found Alma’s story humorous to some extent. From here things begin to change. Alma becomes less and less confident in who she is, and slowly she begins to confuse who she is, and who Elisabet is. Having still not spoken to this point, Elisabet is becoming more of a nuisance to Alma, whose former love of her patient is slowly turning to resentment. In an act of desperation to get Elisabet to speak, Alma moves to throw a pot of boiling water on her. Elisabet finally speaks exclaiming, “Wait, no!”

This exclamation has major implications. It’s a plea for life. A plea to be left whole and unscarred. Elisabet to this point has actively been willing to give up her life, career, and family, with no real evidence that she wants to live. Her identity is unknown to Alma and the audience. But in a moment of panic, she pleads for life, which speaks volumes to the value she still places on her life, a life that she still wants to live.

Later in a powerful monologue shown twice from two different angles, Alma begins to speak about Elisabet’s child. About how Elisabet abandoned her deformed child because of her hatred toward the boy. One angle shows Elisabet listening, but the two have become so much the same that it is as if she is speaking. The other angle shows Alma speaking. She seems to not even be thinking, the words simply flowing out of her.

So much of the pain and hurt that takes place in Persona is inward. The only physical pain that takes place is Elisabet stepping on glass and the threat of the boiling water. Identity is not an outward physical battle, it is an inward mental and spiritual battle. In a dream sequence, we see Elisabet and Alma side by side looking at each other, you can see the similarity between them, and in the end with a haunting image, Bergman puts the two characters' faces together making them almost impossible to distinguish. The famous critic Roger Ebert say that Bergman told him, “The human face is the great subject of the cinema. Everything is there.” Throughout the film Sven Nykvist’s beautiful cinematography is on full display, repeating an image of both characters’ heads in frame, one looking towards the camera, the other profile. Perhaps showing one who is willing to be seen, and the other too shameful to show their face.

In a film where the struggle is all inward torment, the faces tell all. The more we see their similarities the more their torments coincide. Yet amid all this struggle, one thing remains constant, a will to live. However, Elisabet seems to choose to be herself, Alma’s will is not so strong.

There are so many elements to this film. I look forward to revisiting it.

★★★ 1/2

Where to watch: Criterion Channel