Wild Strawberries

Isak Borg (Victor Sjostrom), a widowed, retired professor/physician, sets out on a long car trip with his indifferent daughter-in-law Marianne (Ingrid Thulin) to receive a prestigious honor. Along the way, they pick up a bubbly young woman, Sara, (Bibi Anderson) and her competing beaus. Through a series of daydreams, Isak confronts the regrets of his past.

With a meandering pace and a threadbare plot, Wild Strawberries could have easily been a pretentious bore. That it instead proved to be an engaging, thought-provoking reflection on disappointment is a testament to its writer/director, the legendary Ingmar Bergman (who reportedly penned the script while in the hospital).  Make no mistake about it: there is no shortage of melancholy here. Isak comes to the realization that his coldness has condemned him to a life of lonliness while Marianne is on the verge of leaving his similarly frosty son Evald because the latter cannot stomach the idea of bringing a child into this world. But Bergman also incorporates moments of humor (Isak and his housekeeper bickering like a married couple, Sara’s two suitors ignoring her and fighting over religious philosophy) and surrealism (Isak’s first dream is like something out of a Tool video). Throw in some handsome shots of the Swedish countryside and a minimalistic but powerful score and you have as well-made a film was possible for 1957.

Of course, Bergman isn’t the only thing that makes Wild Strawberries work. Sjostrom, who was a.) primarily a silent film director, b.) in his late 70s, and c.) reluctant to take the role does a phenomenal job essaying Isak. We get to see him as outwardly esteemed, principled, and composed but also uncaring, tormented, and full of regret. It’s the type of role Jack Nicholson would have thrived in had this movie been made from 2002-2006.

If there’s one flaw to Wild Strawberries, it’s that the relatively happy ending seems unearned. There is nothing wrong with the notion that people can and do change, even in old age, but there is something almost Christmas Carolesque in Isak’s realizations. It may be a cliché, but it would have been more fitting – and more moving – if this closed with his passing.

It would seem a stretch that a fifty-plus year old slow-paced Swedish film could resonate with modern viewership, but given the ascendency of character-driven thinkpieces during the past decade, Wild Strawberries should continue to shine.

8.25