Made for television in the late 60s, The Rite is a very small film from Bergman. It's not just small in visual scope, but also small in narrative focus, which seriously limits its appeal.
I actually didn't really get the film at the end of the screening and did as I always do with these. I grabbed the book from the Criterion collection and read the essay on the film. I think the reason the movie's point passed me by while watching it, assuming the essay was correct, was because the film is all about actors and their art form interacting with the world.
I've had discussions recently about how inward focusing storytelling can have both expanded and limiting effects. I used Bergman as my example for how it can be expansive (the Silence trilogy is a great example of taking one man's inner questions and packaging them in ways that other people can understand), but I think The Rite could be a counterpoint from the same artist. An artist's issues with dealing with the real world, using their talents to forge their own place in it and fight against the forces attacking them, is oddly specific. I could imagine a story about that that would speak to a broader audience, generalizing the experience in ways that speak to people not focused on the very specific question, but Bergman makes no effort to do that. Instead of generalizing, he specifies, pushing away those not in the same spot.
Three actors are brought before a civil judge about charges around a performance of theirs. It's unclear what in the performance caused the meeting, but over a series of interviews and conversations, it becomes obvious that the performance itself is secondary. The judge wants to take part. The actors want to tear down the judge. It all culminates in a performance that includes quasi-religious ritual, nudity, and wooden phalluses, none of which is handled sexually. Bergman, being the intelligent storyteller he is, isn't creating empty spectacle, but the rite that ends the film really is in service to something that I cannot really get a grasp onto, at least on one viewing.
This is what trust in a director does. I don't think The Rite works as a film, but because Bergman has reached such highs before, I'm more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in certain ways. In fact, out of all the movies of his that I don't think really work (there are now a grand total of 4 out of the 26 I've watched), this one is the one I'm most willing to give another shot.
I actually didn't really get the film at the end of the screening and did as I always do with these. I grabbed the book from the Criterion collection and read the essay on the film. I think the reason the movie's point passed me by while watching it, assuming the essay was correct, was because the film is all about actors and their art form interacting with the world.
I've had discussions recently about how inward focusing storytelling can have both expanded and limiting effects. I used Bergman as my example for how it can be expansive (the Silence trilogy is a great example of taking one man's inner questions and packaging them in ways that other people can understand), but I think The Rite could be a counterpoint from the same artist. An artist's issues with dealing with the real world, using their talents to forge their own place in it and fight against the forces attacking them, is oddly specific. I could imagine a story about that that would speak to a broader audience, generalizing the experience in ways that speak to people not focused on the very specific question, but Bergman makes no effort to do that. Instead of generalizing, he specifies, pushing away those not in the same spot.
Three actors are brought before a civil judge about charges around a performance of theirs. It's unclear what in the performance caused the meeting, but over a series of interviews and conversations, it becomes obvious that the performance itself is secondary. The judge wants to take part. The actors want to tear down the judge. It all culminates in a performance that includes quasi-religious ritual, nudity, and wooden phalluses, none of which is handled sexually. Bergman, being the intelligent storyteller he is, isn't creating empty spectacle, but the rite that ends the film really is in service to something that I cannot really get a grasp onto, at least on one viewing.
This is what trust in a director does. I don't think The Rite works as a film, but because Bergman has reached such highs before, I'm more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in certain ways. In fact, out of all the movies of his that I don't think really work (there are now a grand total of 4 out of the 26 I've watched), this one is the one I'm most willing to give another shot.