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| | The New Yorker: The Critics: The Current Cinema |
 | | Bergman is so instantly linked with the Nordic landscape, and with the daunting demeanor of those who suffer there, that these buoyant films, dating from 1951 and 1953, are liable to bliss you out with their spasms of uncowed defiance. |
 | | This is the Bergman who needs rescuing—who deserves to be fêted less for his anguished attitudes than for the lithographic clarity of his compositions, which somehow remain feathery and breathed-upon even at their most austere. |
 | | Bergman, it is true, guides us through infernal regions that are closed to most filmmakers, and he has been much mocked in the attempt, but let nobody tell you that he does not share—with Truffaut, with Fellini, with Welles—the sharp, regretful taste of everyday experience. |
| www.newyorker.com /critics/cinema/?040614crci_cinema (1562 words) |
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