Life is far too short to neglect telling the people you’re close to that you love them! That, in a nutshell, appears to be the main point, possibly the only point, that Ingmar Bergman conveys in his 1957 odyssey of the heart, Wild Strawberries. It is a film based mainly on the reflections of one elderly man, as he looks back on his life – what he accomplished and what he failed to accomplish. Rarely has a movie been made with a focus so completely in the subjective realm.

The Story: The central character is Professor Isak Borg (Victor Sjöstörm), an elderly, melancholy Swedish gentleman who is retired after having practiced medicine successfully for over 50 years. On the day that we meet him, he is scheduled, in just 14 hours, to receive an honorary degree for his distinguished career. During the preceding night, he had a troubling dream. He saw himself walking along a deserted street, brightly lit and eerily silent. There was a large, outdoor clock standing along the sidewalk, with no hands. Checking his watch, he discovered that it too was missing hands. He saw a man with his back turned and walked up to him, touching his shoulder. When the man turned, he saw that his facial features were vague and incomplete. Next, he saw a funeral carriage pulled by a horse. A wheel of the carriage jammed up against a light post and, with the horse straining to pull the carriage forward, the wheel broke off and rolled directly back at him, landing and breaking beside him. The tilted carriage began making creaking sounds reminiscent of a baby crying and the coffin began to slide until, finally, it crashed to the ground. The lid opened and a solitary hand emerged. He approached to examine the coffin and the hand reached up, grabbed his jacket, and tugged him toward the coffin. He looked in and saw himself staring back. There is nothing especially obscure in all this. Obviously this is a man worried about his impending march into timeless eternity.

It is now morning and Professor Borg is awake but with troubled mind. He has decided to travel to the college where he is to receive his honorary degree by car, instead of plane, so that he can stop along the way to visit a favorite place of his childhood as well as his mother. He argues with his old housekeeper, Miss Agda, who is put out by his change of plans, but he is adamant. As he is preparing to leave, his daughter-in-law, Marianne (Ingrid Thulin), who is visiting, asks if she may come along. He agrees.

As they ride along, their conversation turns frank and serious. Marianne candidly reveals some pointed feelings of dislike for Isak. Marianne is separated from Isak’s son, Evald, though she still hopes for a reconciliation. Her negativity toward Isak is based on her belief that Evald’s deep-seated emotional problems stem from a troubled childhood and, especially, from his relationship (or lack of relationship) with Isak. Isak is taken back by Marianne’s candid revelation and is a little hurt, but not angry. Painful as her comments are, he recognizes that her issues with him are also connected to his troubled psyche.

In this mood of unresolved discord, they arrive at Isak’s first destination – the cottage where he spent the summers of his childhood. Marianne runs off to take a dip in the lake, leaving Isak to reminisce. He sits down in a wild strawberry patch under a tree. The Swedish name for Wild Strawberries, “Smultronstallet”, translates more precisely as “strawberry field patch” – a Swedish colloquialism meaning a place or a time in one’s life which is fondly remembered and frequently revisited nostalgically in memory. Here Isak sinks into reverie: “How it happened, I don’t know, but the clear reality of day gave way to the still clearer images of memory, which arose before my eyes with all the force of reality.” He sees the companions of his childhood, a large group of siblings and cousins, aunts and uncles.

One stands out among the others – Sara – his first love, his one true love. Sara and he are presumed by the extended family to be intended for one another, but Isak’s brother Sigfrid has other ideas. Isak is the more dependable, promising, and righteous of the two brothers, but Sigfrid is more daringly romantic. Sara confides to another woman, Isak “only likes to kiss me when it’s dark and he talks about sin, he’s frightfully far above me. And there’s Sigfrid, so naughty and exciting.” Sara, like so many gals before and since, prefers the exciting bad boy over the boring good one with stultified feelings. This, we learn, was the pivotal heartbreak of Isak’s life, from which he has never fully recovered.

Isak’s trance is interrupted by a cute, vivacious, blond teenage girl, who spots him in the wild strawberry patch. She is spunky, spirited, and friendly. Her name is Sara (Bibi Andersson) and she is eerily reminiscent of the Sara that was Isak’s lost love from childhood. (They are both skillfully played by the same actress.) She asks Isak if she might hitch a ride to Lund with him on her way to Italy. Marianne joins them and, at the car, they are further augmented by two boyfriends of Sara – Anders and Viktor. Sara is delightfully flirtatious and has an easy, out-going, fun-loving nature. She announces, for example, “I’m a virgin, that’s why I’m so cheeky.” It is soon obvious that both Anders and Viktor are crazy about Sara and that her father has only agreed to permit the excursion to Italy on the expectation that each of the two will ensure that the other is never alone with Sara! Sara is also the perfect antidote for Isak’s reserve and melancholy.

As these five drive along, they encounter a VW coming around a corner on the wrong side of road. It swerves to miss them but spins out and capsizes. The passengers emerge unharmed, however, and it is a husband and wife pair, who offer profuse apologies. They are added as passengers in Isak’s large car, which now totals seven aboard. As they proceed, the husband and wife bicker continuously. The husband is particularly brutal in ridiculing and humiliating his wife. She is ultimately driven to whacking him over the head several times. Marianne, who is driving, stops the car and throws them out – for the sake of the children, as she puts it.

Soon the group of five reach the small town where Isak practiced medicine for many years and where his mother still lives. They stop at a gas station in the town and the couple working there remember Isak fondly and wax eloquent in their appreciation for what he meant to the community during his days there as a doctor. They insist that he not pay for the gas, saying, “There are things that can’t be paid back.” As Isak thinks about this in relation to Marianne’s recent reproachful comments, he comments wistfully, “Perhaps I should have stayed here.” Over lunch at a picnic table, Isak loosens up a bit and regales his young company with stories of his days as a country doctor in this community. Anders and Viktor, on the other hand, began to snipe at one another about their differing views on religion. Viktor, who plans to become a doctor, is a rational skeptic while Anders, who will be a parson, retorts, “You never had any imagination.” It is a shallow argument on both sides and one imagines that it has much more to do with Sara than God.

Isak recites an old Swedish poem, with some help from the others when his memory sticks:

Where is the friend I seek at break of day?
When night falls I still have not found Him.
My burning heat shows me His traces
I see His traces whenever flowers bloom
His love is mingled with every air.”

While the others wait, Isak and Marianne pay a visit to Isak’s aged mother. Viewers immediately begin to understand why Isak is so reserved and icy. The mother is quite rigid and narrow-minded. She complains that she has fifteen great-grandchildren that she has never seen but she is so lacking in affection that we readily understand why their parents would not bring them around. She gives Isak his father’s watch which – as in his earlier dream – has no hands. He is duly spooked. She comments as he is preparing to leave about how Sara married Sigfrid, the ne’er-do-well, and Isak’s face drops visibly with sadness, as doleful cello music plays in the background. Marianne has observed all of this and now understands how both Isak and her husband came to be so devoid of warmth.

Rejoining their young passengers, they discover that Viktor and Anders are now in a fist-fight over God! Sara whispers to Isak, seeking his advice about which one she should pick, weighing prospects for income and trendiness as well their personalities. Isak tries his best to remain neutral.

Back on the road, Isak is confronted with another daydream: The Sara of his childhood holds a mirror to his face, “Have you looked in the mirror, Isak. you’re a worried old man.” She adds, “I’m going to marry your brother Sigfrid.” Isak is deeply pained. He then imagines himself knocking on the door of an academic building where he is to take some kind of qualifying examination. He is unable to answer the questions including a pointed one about a doctor’s first duty. He has to be told the answer, “A doctor’s first duty is to ask for forgiveness.” He is declared incompetent. He is told that he has been accused of callousness, selfishness, ruthlessness. He enquires, “By whom”, and is told, “By your wife.” He now sees his wife in a scene so vivid that it is associated in his mind with an exact date: 1 May 1917. We see his wife and another man, in a mock-violent, passionate sex tryst in a meadow. Then, while the man smokes an after-sex cigarette, Isak’s wife says, “Now I’ll go home and tell Isak. I know just what he’ll say. My poor girl, I’m sorry for you. Just as if he were God. Then I’ll weep and say: Do you really feel sorry for me? He’ll say: yes, very sorry. Then I’ll ask him to forgive me. There is nothing to forgive, he’ll say. But he doesn’t mean a word he says because he’s cold as ice. And suddenly he gets tender and I scream at him that he’s mad and that his hypocrisy makes me sick. Then he says he’ll get me a sedative, and that he quite understands. And I tell him it’s his fault that I am as I am and he looks sad and say it is his fault. But he doesn’t really care in the least.” She is accusing him of the sin of icy cold logic and indifference. His daydream ends with his examiner censuring him for amputating his wife’s memory by a “surgical masterpiece.” He awakens to discover that Marianne has pulled over to the side of the road so that the three young passengers can stretch their legs.

He turns to his daughter-in-law for the solace of conversation. He tells her that he was dreaming that he was dead yet alive. She says, “You and Evald are very much alike. Dead but alive. Evald said the same thing.” She then informs Isak that she is pregnant and intends to have the child. Evald, on the other hand is dead set against having a child and, when told of her pregnancy, said, “I don’t want a child – you’ll have to make a choice. I was an unwanted child in a hellish marriage. This life sickens me. I will not be forced to live for one day longer than I want to. And you know that I mean what I say.”

Isak, shocked, asks, “Why did you tell me this?” Marianne, responds, “I saw you with your mother and I was panic-stricken. I thought: that’s his mother – an old woman, cold as ice, more forbidding than death. And this is her son, and there are light-years between them. He himself says he’s a living corpse. And Evald is growing just as lonely, cold and dead. And I thought of the baby inside me. All along the line there’s nothing but cold and death and loneliness. It must end somewhere.” Despite the gravity of their conversation, Isak and Marianne are talking as they never have before and an unexpected bond is beginning to develop between them.

The three young people return with flowers that they have picked for Isak. Marianne has told them that he is to receive an honor and they are duly impressed. “We know you must be a very wise man.” He is moved by both their feelings and the openness with which they express them.

Arriving at the college, Miss Agda is there to meet him. “I considered it my duty but my pleasure’s been spoiled”, she says. “Hurry up professor.” During the ceremonial parade, irrepressible Sara waves to Isak from the crowd like his own personal groupie, yelling “Isak, Isak!” During the ceremony, his thoughts remain with the day’s events.

That evening, at bedtime, determined to turn over a new leaf, he tries to begin with his housekeeper. “Miss Agda, I’m sorry about this morning. Miss Agda, as we have known each other for so many years couldn’t we call each other Agda and Isak?” She responds, emphatically, “No! No intimacies for me, thank you. It’s all right between us as it is.” “But we are old now”, he implores. “Speak for yourself. A woman is jealous of her reputation. What would people think if we said Agda and Isak? They would make fun of us. At our age we should know how to behave.” He looks resigned. We understand from this that the reserve from which Isak has suffered all his life is not unique to him, but is something of a characteristic of his generation and his cultural heritage. Miss Agda will have nothing to do with the idea of expressing warmth openly.

He hears voices outside and steps out onto his balcony. His three young friends and former passengers have come to serenade him. Sara calls to him, “Father Isak! You were splendid in the procession. We were terribly proud to know you.” She leans up to him and says prettily, “It’s you I really love, you know. Today, tomorrow, always.” It is all he ever wanted to hear! “I’ll remember.” And as she disappears from sight, “Let me hear from you.” There is hope, at least, in a new generation – in Sara, Anders, and Viktor, who express their feelings openly.

Evald comes into his father’s room. Isak asks him to sit down for a moment. “How is it to be between you and Marianne? Forgive my asking.” Evald, not used to such a frank question from his father, says only, “I don’t know.” Struggling, Isak continues, “It’s not my business, but . . . But wouldn’t it . . .” Evald manages to say, “I have asked her to stay.” His father, trying to keep this first effort at a father-son conversation alive, stammers, “Shouldn’t you . . . I mean” Evald blurts out, “I can’t live without her.” Isak asks, “You mean alone?” No, corrects Evald, “I can’t live without her.” Isak then uses the opening to try to offer to ease things for Evald by releasing him from a monetary debt, but they are interrupted by Marianne. “How are you uncle Isak,” she says, warmly. “Fine. Thanks for coming with me. I like you, Marianne.” “I like you too, Uncle Isak.” It may not seem earth-shaking by the standard of people with average or better ability to communicate feelings, but for Isak and Evald, it is breakthrough progress! There is a final closing dream sequence where Isak sees his mother and father, missing from the earlier cottage scenes, sitting idyllically next to the lake that he loves, in quiet harmony.

Production Values: The list of strengths for this film certainly has to begin with a magnificent performance by Victor Sjöstörm. He was coaxed out of retirement to play the part and had health problems throughout the production. Sjöstörm was a pioneer of Swedish film in multiple capacities, as a writer, director, and actor. His performance here in Wild Strawberries may be the best performance of his career. Ingrid Thulin was also very effective as Marianne. My personal favorite, however, was Bibi Andersson. She provided just the right quality of openness and spunkiness as the new Sara as well as a fine portrayal of the old Sara. Honestly, I had no idea that the same actress was playing both of the Saras until I read about it. Her job is to give us and Isak hope and she accomplished it admirably.

The elegant black-and-white cinematography provided by Gunnar Fischer was powerful. The dream sequences made use of high contrast to create a feeling of surrealism. The real life scenes made effective use of the hallmark Bergman accentuation of remarkable faces (of great character) with lingering close-ups. It is a beautifully filmed story.

This is not a particularly deep or difficult film despite Bergman’s reputation for such. It is mainly a one theme film: the need to express feelings of warmth and caring for loved ones. Although there is a lot of symbolism, the symbolism is mostly rather obvious – even hackneyed. One critic that I read complained that the symbolism in this film is annoyingly obvious. Most of the symbolism, however, occurs during dream or daydream sequences and, therefore, is not symbolism of the narrative but symbolism of the psyche – the Freudian type. The symbols that typically occur in actual dreams are not especially obscure. It is sometimes written that Wild Strawberries raises questions about God and religion, but, quite honestly, the level of the dialogue that relates to religious issues is so trivial that I think it is fair to assume that it is there simply as subject matter for Anders and Viktor to compete over as they vie for Sara’s affection. It could just as well have been politics. The characters in Wild Strawberries, on the other hand, provide real interest, being fully drawn and complex.

Overview: I have seen five or so Bergman films. I respect his work and have enjoyed all of his films that I’ve encountered, but I gather from what I read that some film-lovers revere Bergman. I’m not in that camp. Wild Strawberries is my second favorite Bergman film, after The Seventh Seal. Since icy reserve is an attribute more prevalent among Scandinavian people than most other ethnic groups, I imagine that this film strikes a more responsive chord in those countries than among those for whom expression of feelings comes naturally. Despite its largely somber tone, I find Wild Strawberries satisfying and life-affirming in the end – not depressing. We see Isak learning, even as an old man, the value of expressing warm feelings openly. All he’ll need is a bit more practice. We also derive hope from the exuberance of the younger characters, especially the new Sara.

It has often been pointed out that Wild Strawberries reflected the early part of Bergman’s life as well as foretelling his later years. It is probably no coincidence that the initials of Isak Borg and Ingmar Bergman are the same. Bergman had a cold, strict Lutheran minister for a father and has isolated himself in his old age to a life of quiet solitude. The DVD version of Wild Strawberries includes a very interesting interview with Bergman, who very seldom provides such conversations. There is also a rather fawning piece by a Bergman scholar. Wild Strawberries has a running time of 91 minutes and is in Swedish with English subtitles. I recommend it as a fine film with great performances and out-standing cinematography but not earth-shaking in its impact or significance.


*************************************************************************************************
You might want to check out these other excellent films from Sweden:

The Best Intentions
Cries and Whispers
The Magician
Miss Julie
Persona
Scenes from a Marriage
The Seventh Seal
The Shame
Smiles of a Summer Night
Through a Glass Darkly
Torment
The Virgin Spring

Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Better than Watching TV
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older