Absurd Battle

Last night, after much tossing and turning I finally gave up on sleep and resorted to watching T.V. I normally read, but I didn’t feel up to it so I opted for ‘light entertainment’ instead which, ironically, turned out to be anything but light. I have never been a huge fan of Ingmar Bergman, mostly because his films can be unbearably protracted and self-righteous, but last night’s offering, though typically Bergman-esque, had me glued to my t.v screen.
Scenes from a Marriage opens with a couple - Marianne (Liv Ullmann) and Johan (Erland Josephson) - being interviewed for a society magazine. Every moment, during the interview, seems to waver on a brink of some rupture and just as they start to look relaxed, the interviewer has them freeze for a photograph, urged by ‘Try to look as if you’re fond of each other.’  Throughout the course of the interview we learn that Marianne and Johan are a well-to-do professional couple, with two children, who have found contentment in material wealth and domesticity. And yet watching the two of them together develops in to a painfully candid expose of a marriage in trouble. While Johan rambles on about his accomplishments; all Marianne can say is that she is married and has two children. After much talk about the intricacies of mundane realism the two of them agree that theirs is a model marriage. Only, it isn’t. It is a marriage of convenience; devoid of any sort of passion or spiritual fulfilment. Somewhat inevitably, then the husband ‘falls in love’. Upon his confession of adultery – a revelation that comes as a complete surprise—Marianne's initial reaction is so perfectly detached it's unsettling. The subsequent discussion of the affair and its consequences is bizarre and yet quite realistic while Ullman exudes a firmly controlled hysteria of a spouse in shock, Josephson's unwavering honesty is being wielded as a weapon against his wife.
In short, Scenes from a Marriage chronicles a domestic life which comes unraveling with excruciating rapidity. Watching the film, I couldn’t help but think how masterfully Bergman captured the couple's turmoil, their increasing aversion toward one another, and their hapless attempts to end their relationship altogether. It all seemed so familiar. I have lived in that house with an emotionally crippled mother and a philandering bastard for a father who didn’t much mind making me a conspirator in his adultery. I have no doubt my mother knew of my father’s indiscretions and if she didn’t I tried to tell her, on more than one occasion, but for whatever reason she chose to believe him. Needless to say, I hated my father for his affairs and for putting me in that position but as time went on I began to grow increasingly disillusioned with mother for choosing stay with him. I would of understood her decision if my father had been a good man; a good husband, but he wasn’t. He was a pig-headed tyrant who took delight in humiliating my mother with incredible cruelty. Still, she stayed with him and did everything possible to make him stay – funnily enough he was the one that always threatened to leave. The situation was almost farcical. While my mother was completely disarmed by my father’s manipulations I grew resilient to them until I finally began to disregard my father altogether. Infuriated by my ‘lack of respect’ he often complained to my mother: ‘That little lunatic needs to be taught a lesson’. My mother’s pathetic attempts to reconcile the two of us would always end up in rows. It was useless. My father’s frustrations were mounting because he realised he couldn’t control me like he did my mother who had become a pathetic, blathering mess unable to utter a word without his approval. In retrospect I think my father’s hatred towards me was spurred by the fact that I rebelled and also by the fact that even then he realised, that one day I would be the cause of his downfall. As a result there was always a struggle for power between us – while my mother watched on the sidelines as an inconsequential spectator. She even failed to intervene when my father, in a fit of rage, slapped me across the face. I remember I looked at my mother for help, I was twelve. She didn’t even blink. From that day onwards, I realised I was alone – abandoned, frightened and desperate to escape. In the end I did, only to find myself back in the midst of this nightmare again. After years of almost no contact with either of one my parents, I came across some proof of my father’s double life. It fell in to my lap and without thinking I got in touch with my mother. I had to show her. I had to try and expose him for what he is and always had been. I saw my mother’s life crumbling in front of her. It was humbling. After all the years in denial she finally began to acknowledge what was real. I don’t know if she’ll ever recover, but I know that I feel an obligation to help her recoup what's rightfully hers - my father avowed to leave her with nothing, which doesn’t surprise me at all. Nothing about my father surprises me, except maybe his folly in underestimating his opponent. After years without a single exchange my father’s first words to me were: 'So you’ve finally got what you wanted, you little bitch’. I smile and retorted ‘ And you’ll get what you deserve’. I remember he then grabbed my arm and said: ‘You’ll see me in my grave before I let your mother have anything’ I pulled myself free and said: ‘And you’ll see me dancing on it, when she walks away with everything.’
Whatever happens, I promised myself to see this through because I need to, to get closure. And in some, halfhearted, small way I want my mother to move on, maybe even be happy. Of course the other reason is so that I can see my father crushed and to ensure that I have found my mother every legal help there is. My relationship with my mother will never be restored, our issues never resolved because she doesn’t fully understand how much damage the two of them have done. And I don’t think she wants to. I have no doubt she wants me out of her life almost as much as I want her out of mine, but for the moment we’re stuck with each other. And her eternal ‘ I need you’ keeps me firmly at the forefront of this absurd battle. It’s funny, but when I ask her ‘Where were you when I needed you?’ she struggles to find words.

29.5.07 15:56