Cries and Whispers (a.k.a. Cry Babies 'n' Repressed Bitches (and Ho's)) (1972)
Ingmar Bergman: The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, The Virgin Spring, Booty Train Svensk
Review by Ralph-Z
Now this here's a nice littl'old story 'bout these three fucked up bitches and their bitch-ass husbands. They's s'posed to be sisters even though one of them act like she they mother or som'n. Now one a these bitches be dyin' of some kind a cancer, so it's like all sad and shit. But ain't nothin' I can do about it. So I just sit back and watch.
Film starts with ten whole minutes of nuttin' but red and white. I's like, "Sweet Jesus, I gotta get this here colors scheme goin' at my house." I call my bitch at work said, "Baby, you gotsta pick up a can a that red paint on your way home tonight, you hear!"
Next thing I start noticing how he be movin' the camera 'round-zooming in and out-front of things-behind things-all up in everything. Clocks tickn' and shit. I'm thinkin' "Man, this Bergman mother fucker really know what the fuck he doin'." It be like fuckin' child's play for him—like a fucking dollhouse—and he fucking own it. Course, poor brother must be wound up tight as one of those fine Swedish ho's. Motherfucker need to get himself a massage or som'n.
Now let's talk about specifics. I think one 'da key moments in this film is the 'do you realize I hate you' speech. It's like, at first, you're like, now how 'n the hell was we leading up to that? I mean, all we had was a handful of scenes-that old affair between Doctor What's His Face and Sister Smiley and that relationship between Old Mama Hen and her pale-face husband. Man, that dude's meaner 'n my landlord on Malcomb Xmas. Other than that, there was basically just, well, a bunch of cries and whispers, and some off the hook camera work. No, I really do say. But then I realized how subconsciously, he was preparing us all along. Deep down, you knew (I knew) it was coming. Cuz now I'm lookin' back and I'm, like, thinkin' now where'n hell was all this tension coming from? Cuz it couldn't all been just from that one littl'ol bitch lying up there in bed all day. No. It had to be those two damn sisters. Hatin' and a hatin' all the damn time. Shit.