I first watched Ingmar Bergman’s WILD STRAWBERRIES after watching Woody Allen’s quasi-homage STARDUST MEMORIES. I picked up a dusty DVD from my school library and watched it by myself on a random afternoon. As much as this budding cinephile wanted to like it, I was honestly underwhelmed.
The thing about Bergman’s films is that though they are timeless, they require time to digest. They require experience, in the form of lived time, to truly appreciate them. That’s not to say that a 15-year-old can’t like WILD STRAWBERRIES, but its complexity doesn’t really manifest itself until you’ve become keenly aware of the passing of time.
WILD STRAWBERRIES insists on making the audience face death, regret, and guilt. Bergman lays out those themes quite explicitly in the opening sequence and throughout the film. As protagonist Isak Borg prepares for a lifetime achievement award of sorts, his childhood memories haunt him, as both accomplishments and failures merge to remind him of the vast life he’s lived.
Bergman wrote WILD STRAWBERRIES in a hospital, recovering from a nervous breakdown triggered by overwork. His third marriage was falling apart, and his relationship with his parents was strained. The film itself arises out of a darker place in Bergman’s life, but it is not a film devoid of hope. The film’s final dream sequence suggests brightness and light.
When I was younger this ending didn’t seem emotionally satisfying. Now, the quiet lyricism of this moment is what I most admire about the film. I’m glad I found my way back to WILD STRAWBERRIES, and I look forward to when the film and I meet again.
— Diana Martinez, Film Streams Education Director
