Diary Entry forWild Strawberries
Ingmar Bergman is quickly becoming one of my favourite directors, every film of his is far has been amazing. There is so much going on in this, from fulfilment to regret, Bergman tackles some of the most difficult subjects. It’s hard to describe how good this film is, all I’d say is make sure you give it a watch. It’s melancholy nature, and subtle hints to complex themes make it a true masterpiece, and one of the most elegant films in history.
Other Diary Entries forWild Strawberries
Wild Strawberries
In The Boxxd '25 - Semana #23: Película de Ingmar Bergman.
Wild Strawberries
Wild Strawberries is a wonderful film and, in my opinion, the best Ingmar Bergman film I've seen so far. I love the tranquil atmosphere and the beautiful scenery. Watching Isak recall some of his most beautiful moments in life was wonderful, such as the strawberries or his girlfriend Sara. Overall, a really cool short film that I would rate 4.4/5.
Wild Strawberries
caramba. que filme, oq me impressiona é q Ingmar Bergman consegue fazer duas obras de arte no mesmo ano,sétimo selo que dispensa apresentações um cinema total um dos meus filmes favoritos,enquanto morangos silvestres é um excelente filme,uma pegada de nostalgia e alguns arrependimentos, algumas falas marcantes também, a viagem que ele fez não foi pra lund,e sim pra o passado dele,a forma como os jovens alegram ele é muito divertida,sem falar na Marianne que começa a viagem não gostando dele e no fim do filme a opinião muda totalmente. a forma linda é pura como ele lembra da infância,dos morangos silvestres e da família dele é maneira demais, Dito isso uma obra prima de Ingmar Bergman. • Isak Borg: "Qual é o castigo?" • Sten Alman: "Eu não sei. O de sempre, eu suponho." • Isak Borg: "O de sempre?" • Sten Alman: "Isso mesmo. A solidão."
Wild Strawberries
“𝘔𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.” A surgical masterpiece. No pain. Nothing that bleeds or trembles. How silent it is. If only history could be like this. Not even just past crimes of love and war, but my own crimes. I wish I could be scrubbed clean, scraped clean of all my embarrassments. I think I wake up with shame as if it is a mantra, born purposefully every day to be bashful, red in the face. Others are unsure if I am angry or hot or suffocating or blushing. Watched this years ago when I was all too young and stupid to know anything about my own vanity and aging. I'm thirty now and what a waste of a body I've made for myself. Reflections on love, life, grief, and the memories and nightmares are ever so present as the present tense. Perhaps hauntings are reminders that we have a body at all. A body that mulls itself past seconds and sand wanting to perish, to forget everything that came before its own cremation. “𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭? 𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵?”
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