nathansnook

In the Presence of a Clown

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴. A complicated mess of the usual Bergman stuff that goes on for too long in this TV film. I think the set up takes too long and Bergman really should've given it to us first, hard and fast, with the anal clown sex. Everything after is a look at theater, cinema, and the meaning of life. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩. Something occurs that creates interesting blocking and a play-on with film and theater, but I lost interest because it felt incredibly underproduced. The shots. The colors. All was missing! But you come to a conclusion that as much as your death doesn’t matter, neither does your life. Everyone leaves in a rush. With very little to say. A criticism. A praise. But nothing else. No matter how big you see the victory or how immense the loss is, none of it matters. You will die alone. Even as our main protagonist lies in bed with a woman on top of him, he drifts and drifts alone.