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Intimacy brought to the very limit of what is bearable. A portrait of two close, yet incredibly distant souls, made in absolute depth and Bergmanian detail. Despite the fact that the whole film basically stand and falls with the Ullmann and Josephson duo, there are no weak parts in its massive runtime. Bergman more or less participates by watching and listening, and he peels the layers down to the very core, which is not complicated, but rather frighteningly simple in its hopelessness. One of the most impressive portraits of love as an emotion on the edge of settled happiness and eternal escape, submission and rebellion, devotion and hatred. (2008.05.28)

Bergman's absolute triumph over his own memories and at the same time the content of the film, exceptionally crushing in its form. The film is essentially a terribly sad story and thanks to the director's own self-reflection, it is desperately honest. Emotions are emphasized through camera work (quick zoom on Marianne when Johan leaves) and the liveliness of the characters is truly terrifying to the point that it is all too easy to recognize (Johan's mention of retrospective jealousy and other details). Similar to Fanny and Alexander, I had the feeling that it is almost ungrateful to watch the film in one go because many impressions can be missed. The division into chapters is then an ideal way to repeatedly delve into the story. (2007.06.05)

How can I put it more succinctly than that this hasn't brought joy into my life either? These intimate, endless dialogues full of mirroring of relationships between characters and creators without a single note of instrumental music are challenging, but serve no purpose other than relief. It does come in the last scene, but again the question is: at the expense of what? The endless variations on Bergman's favorite actors, the endless variations on his favorite themes... (2017.03.10)

Not for me. Not because I don't have experience with such a deep and complex relationship between two people, but I simply didn't believe and understand the theatrical characters, who don’t seem to have been created for us to sympathize with, but rather to admire the spiritual depth of their dialogues, monologues and symbolic suffering. But Bergman again fails to achieve that, his intimate narrative made me feel alienated, each scene is disproportionately drawn out despite the minimal scope of its message, and I didn't get a single compelling reason to care deeply about the fate of these foolish individuals and relate to them. The actors may be perfect, the dialogue sophisticated and the narrative value ageless, but if I'm so tired of watching the whole thing, what's the point? (2016.02.25)