By Raymond Benson

Once again The Criterion Collection digs into master director Ingmar Bergman’s vault and brings us his exquisite, enigmatic film from 1958, The Magician (originally titled The Face in the UK; in fact, the Swedish title, Ansiktet, means “Face”).

Set sometime in the 1800s, the story concerns a traveling magic and medicine show called “Vogler’s Magnetic Health Theater.” The troupe consists of Vogler (Max von Sydow), the mute magician of the picture’s title, his “ward,” Mr. Aman (Ingrid Thulin in disguise, although it’s no surprise that the character is a woman), Tubal (Ake Fridell), who acts as manager/spokesman, and the inscrutable Granny (Naima Wifstrand), an old witch who dabbles in love potions. Picked up along the road is an alcoholic actor, Spegel (Bengt Ekerot, who was memorable as Death in The Seventh Seal).

Before the company can perform in a small Swedish village, they must first prove their credibility for the Minister of Health, Dr. Vergerus (Gunnar Bjornstrand), the chief of police, and a government official (Erland Josephson). All three men interrogate the company. Later, the troupe presents a private performance in the official’s home. It is the intention of the three townsmen to expose the magician as a fraud—but, as only Bergman can do it, the tables are turned on the antagonists.

The Magician, in a way, is Bergman’s Stardust Memories (Woody Allen, 1980), in which the artist answers his critics. The Vogler character could be interpreted as representing Bergman himself—an artist who hides behind a mask, creates illusions for entertainment, but in reality is an insecure and doubtful man. Bergman himself calls the film a comedy, and indeed, there are many humorous moments. By making the three townsmen extreme caricatures, Bergman targets the types of upper class detractors who gave him a hard time during his formative years as a filmmaker. (As the Swedish playwright August Strindberg once responded to one of his critics, “I’ll see you in my next play!”)

While not on the same level as some of Bergman’s masterworks such as The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, The Virgin Spring, Persona, Cries and Whispers, or Fanny and Alexander, The Magician still ranks as a solid 3-star effort from the director. For fans of the man’s work, it will provoke discussion and head-scratching analysis—and at the same time manage to be entertaining.

Gunnar Fischer’s gorgeous black and white photography is never better presented than in Criterion’s high-definition transfer. Every frame is a work of art. Extras include a new visual essay on the film by Bergman authority Peter Cowie, and two wonderful vintage interviews with Bergman—one in English!

There simply aren’t enough Bergman movies available on DVD in the United States; hats are off to Criterion for continuing to unearth them. Hopefully the company will soon release Face to Face, From the Life of the Marionettes, Summer with Monika, A Lesson in Love, Secrets of Women… the list goes on and on!

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By Raymond Benson

Except for perhaps Stanley Kubrick, no other American filmmaker has generated more mystique about himself than Terrence Malick. Famously reclusive, Malick never gives interviews or even allows his photograph to be taken on the set of any film he directs. In four decades, he’s made only four pictures (although a fifth, The Tree of Life, appears to be finally set for a release in 2011).

After a twenty-year absence from filmmaking, the artist returned to Hollywood in 1998 with The Thin Red Line, an existential, philosophical, and meditative war movie that only Terrence Malick could make. Critically received, it was nominated for several Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. It couldn’t have been more different from Saving Private Ryan, Steven Spielberg’s “other” war picture of the year and one that was immensely more popular with theater-goers. Perhaps this was because Malick’s film is mostly about sight and sound and mood and ideas—not story or characters. Terrence Malick is a cinematic poet, and anyone who doesn’t understand this will surely have a difficult time with the director’s work.

The Cadillac of DVD labels, The Criterion Collection, has released a superb two-disc set in both DVD and Blu-Ray that showcases the beauty and wonderment of The Thin Red Line. All of Malick’s films are technically gorgeous—Oscar nominee John Toll’s cinematography was arguably the more deserving work in that year’s category—and the new DVD presents a newly restored high-definition digital transfer supervised by both Toll and Malick. Toll, production designer Jack Fisk, and producer Grant Hill contribute an enlightening audio commentary to the film. (And Malick himself delivers a single message to the viewer via text on the screen—he suggests it be played loud.)