REVIEWS
"
Liv Ullmann's
Private Confessions was based on an Ingmar Bergman script about his parents' marital infidelity; this feature is also written by Bergman, though apparently his own past role as the other man haunts him here. An elderly writer named Bergman (
Erland Josephson) summons a luminous actress (Lena Endre) to enact the tale of an actress, her orchestra-conductor husband, their best friend, and the triangle's designated victim, the couple's little girl.
Ullmann switches back and forth between the contemplative spaces of creation—the writer and his muse confer in his study, by a window, near a lake—and the overcharged locations of the main story, creating some space around the narrative and aerating its angst, so to speak. That, finally, is the film's fascination: the tension between Bergman's dour puritanism and the earthy plenitude and innate sensuality of
Ullmann's austere compositions. Her delight in colour, texture, and light and Endre's glowing, eminently nonneurotic sexuality make the doom-ridden, guilt-wallowing pronouncements seem less like insights and more like self-fulfilling prophecies."
— Ronnie Scheib, Chicago Reader)
"Alone in an isolated coastal cottage, elderly dramatist
Josephson (a clumsy, obvious stand-in for Bergman, who wrote the semi-autobiographical script) summons up his conscience/muse (Endre), an actress who relates in painstaking, painful detail her story of adultery, jealousy, guilt and punishment. The lucid, steady, inexorable progression to cruel catharsis is reminiscent of such '70s Bergman psycho-dramas as
Scenes from a Marriage and
Face to Face, and
Ullmann clearly respects her mentor. She trusts in the performances (Endre's protagonist is superb and charismatic, the lover and husband less so), explores every moral and emotional nuance, and inadvertently courts charges of solipsistic indulgence. The shifts in season, weather and setting are hackneyed, and the film as a whole is astonishingly old-fashioned, but somehow, against the odds, it still manages to pack a real punch."
— Geoff Andrew, Time Out