Ingrid Bergman Centennial

Today marks the 100th anniversary of Ingrid Bergman’s birth. Born on August 29, 1915 in Stockholm, Sweden, Bergman was orphaned by the age of 12. She later said of herself, “I was the shyest human ever invented, but I had a lion inside me that wouldn't shut up!" Interested in acting from a young age, she won a coveted spot at Stockholm’s Royal Dramatic Theater School but left after a year to take a chance with the movies.

Her first on-screen speaking role came in 1935 when she played a maid in Gustaf Molander’s Munkbrogreyen. A year later she made Intermezzo with Molander. Her performance, as a piano teacher who has an affair with a famed violinist, caught the eye of producer David O. Selznick who brought Bergman to America to make an English-language remake of the film.

Bergman was like a breath of fresh air in Hollywood. Refusing to submit herself to the makeovers most new actresses went through, she said no to changing her name, plucking her eyebrows, capping her teeth, or losing weight. She shunned make-up and high fashion off screen and indulged in her favourite discovery, American ice cream.

Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca (1942)

Bergman’s dedication to her craft won her the admiration of her peers—Selznick said, “Miss Bergman is the most completely conscientious actress with whom I have ever worked.”—while her natural beauty and talent won over American film audiences. She would go on to star in some of the top films of the 1940s including Casablanca (1942), For Whom the Bells Toll (1942), and Gaslight (1944), for which she won the first of three Oscars. She also made two films with Hitchcock at this time, Spellbound (1945) and Notorious (1946), my personal favourite. Bergman’s wholesome image, which was cultivated by the studio publicity machine, was cemented in the public’s mind when she played a nun in The Bells of Saint Mary (1945).

In her private life Bergman, who was married to Dr. Petter Lindström and had a daughter, Pia, conducted extramarital affairs including one with photographer Robert Capa. But it was her involvement with Italian director Roberto Rossellini that would change her career and life. Having seen a couple of his films, Bergman wrote a letter to Rossellini that said, "If you need a Swedish actress who speaks English very well, who has not forgotten her German, who is not very understandable in French and who in Italian knows Ti Amo, I am ready to come and make a film with you." She travelled to Italy to make Stromboli (1950) with him. During the filming the two fell in love and Bergman became pregnant. When the news broke the public turned on her, and she was even denounced on the floor of the US Senate.

Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rossellini with their children at their home in Rome. Photo by Chim (1956)

After divorcing Lindström, Bergman and Rossellini were married in 1950. In addition to their son, they would have twin daughters, Isabella and Isotta Ingrid. Bergman continued working with Rossellini, making five more films together, but their marriage didn’t last and they divorced in 1957. Bergman would later marry Swedish theatrical producer Lars Schmidt (they remained married for 17 years until their divorce in 1975).

In 1956 Bergman returned to American screens in Anastasia playing the part of Anna, the woman suffering from amnesia who may or may not be the Russian Grand Duchess Anastasia. The film was a hit, and she won her second Oscar. Bergman's Hollywood exile was officially over when she appeared at the 1959 Academy Awards and received a standing ovation from the audience.

Bergman would continue to act in both films and on stage, winning a third Oscar in 1974 for best supporting actress for Murder on the Orient Express. In 1978 she made Autumn Sonata with the acclaimed director Ingmar Bergman. It was to be her last film. In 1982 she played her final role—Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir in a television miniseries. She passed away later that year on her birthday. 

Ingrid Bergman. Photo by Richard Avedon (1961)

Ingrid Bergman's centennial is being celebrated in a variety of ways. Her image was chosen for the official Cannes Film Festival poster, there is a new documentary, Ingrid Bergman: In Her Own Words, and a book Ingrid Bergman: A Life in Pictures. Here in New York, MoMA is screening a selection of her films August 29-September 10, with many of them being introduced by her children (for more information, visit here). Over in Brooklyn, BAM is presenting a selection of her films September 13-29 and on September 12, Isabella Rossellini and Jeremy Irons will give a theatrical tribute to Bergman (for more information, visit here). 

Matisse Cut-Outs

"The Fall of Icarus" Henri Matisse (1943)

Tomorrow is the last day of the “Henri Matisse: The Cut-Outs” exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art (M0MA). To say that the show has been popular is an understatement: this past weekend MoMA stayed open round the clock to accommodate visitors even at three in the morning. I saw the show last month and even though there was a wait and huge crowds, it was well worth it.

Roughly 100 pieces filled room after room with the most incredible colours and shapes. More familiar with his paintings, I was unaware that toward the end of his life Matisse worked almost exclusively in cut-outs (a bout with cancer left him weakened and bedridden for much of his later years). In a way, it was like looking at the rebirth of an artist, one who discovered a new way to express how he saw the world.

"The Parakeet and the Mermaid" Henri Matisse (1952)

In Matisse's hands some pieces of coloured paper (his assistants painted sheets of paper with paint chosen by the artist), dress pins, and a pair of scissors could render a dancer, the design for a stain-glassed window for a chapel, or a swimming pool of bodies that wrapped around a room. 

Two of my favourite pieces were a contrast in size. "The Fall of Icarus" with its lovely Mediterranean blue and blaze of fire at its center, was small yet striking. And I simply adored a mural Matisse created when he lived at the Hôtel Régina in Nice. “The Parakeet and the Mermaid,” which covered two walls (ignoring the radiator in the way) of Matisse’s studio, is a glorious collection of leaves and fruit (with a parakeet and mermaid at either end) in a medley of colours including some shocking pink. This work gave an ill man who had once loved to garden a garden that he could maintain and nourish. Like the rest of the exhibit, it was a joy to see.

If you didn't manage to see the exhibit, you can view the rest of the works and read more about Matisse here.

Documents Pour Artistes

"Cour de Rouen" Eugène Atget (1915). See the cats?

A few days after I got home from my vacation, I revisited Paris by seeing the Eugène Atget exhibit, "Documents Pour Artistes," at MoMA.

Atget was a great documentarian of Paris. Day after day, he would set up his view camera on a tripod and capture the city's buildings, streets, and people; no detail was overlooked from a stairwell to a statue in an abandoned garden. Largely ignored during his lifetime, Atget once said about his work, "I have done little justice to the Great City of Paris." Yet his more than 10,000 photographs remain one of the greatest documents of a city, giving us an incredible insiders view of Paris at the turn of the century.

"Rue de la Montagne-Sainte-Geneviève" Eugène Atget (1925)

Lucky for us, some other photographers did recognize his gift. Admired by the Surrealists, Man Ray bought 42 images from Atget before his death (they were neighbours). Berenice Abbott published the first overview on Atget— Atget, Photographe de Paris—in 1930 and with the help of Julien Levy, bought more than 8,500 of his photographs, which were later donated to MoMA.

The title of the exhibit, “Documents Pour Artistes,” comes from a sign that hung outside Atget's studio; he hoped his photographs could serve as source material for other artists. In the exhibit, more than 100 of these photographs were broken into six sections—People of Paris, Courtyards, Parc du Sceaux, Jardin de Luxembourg, Fifth Arrondissement, and Surrogates and the Surreal—a representation of Atget’s areas of interest.

"Romanichels, groupe
" Eugène Atget (1912)

In the exhibit, there were no images of the Eiffel Tower or other standard Parisian symbols. Instead there were Romanies outside their caravan, starring at the camera except for one barefoot young man who probably got bored, which I found mesmerising. Photos of courtyards reminded you of the surprises that can be found inside (look, there's a cat over in the corner) while images of the Fifth Arrondissement like "Balcon, 17 rue du Petit-Pont" with its ropes of shoes show how common items can become works of art. The Jardin de Luxembourg is my favourite Parisian park and so naturally I loved the photos of its hollyhocks and other flowers. And the shop windows filled with bizarre mannequins explain why the Surrealists embraced Atget early on.

"Parc de Sceaux, mars, 8 h. matin
" Eugène Atget (1925)

Yet perhaps the images of Parc du Sceaux were the most moving. A deserted park on the outskirts of Paris, Atget rushed to capture its decrepit beauty between March and June 1925 before its scheduled clean-up and reopening as a public park. He made 66 photographs, both haunting and beautiful, which ilustrate what Atget worked so hard to capture—the pure essence of a place, including all its cracks and imperfections. 

The exhibit is over but MoMA has published a lovely book that can be purchased here. As for visiting MoMA, a word of advice. There never seems to be a good time to visit. It's almost always packed to the gills, overheated, and everyone forgets their manners, especially on the weekends. I That said, it has some amazing works of art on permanent display so maybe going first thing in the morning during the week is best. Anyone else have some good tips on how to avoid the madness?