Bergman Island, a movie review

First, let me say I’ve been to Bergman’s Island. All by accident.

I was in Gotland, a place I hadn’t first planned on. You see in 2014 I went to Sweden to see some old friends. While visiting with Lotta in Tronas she said to go to Gotland, it made more sense to insert it into my itinerary than my original plan. So I quickly booked tickets on a ferry leaving from a town south of Stockholm, went on a hike, got lost, almost missed my train, arrived late for the ferry, ran to catch it, and was the last passenger aboard. The man in the safety vest closed the door behind me. Or was it a gangplank?

Anyway, I rented a bicycle in Gotland, even though it was after the tourist season and at first seemed impossible. It was only the second week in September and the skies were blue and the weather wonderful. Nevertheless, many restaurants and accommodations had shuttered.

I was given a map of the island and stopped at little churches and a local harvest festival on my first day. The harvest festival consisted of old farm equipment and steamed hot dogs for sale. I rode on toward the northern tip and as the sun was getting lower I looked about for a place to sleep. I had a sleeping bag, but no tent. And, there were sheep everywhere.

At some point, I made it to a village where a man was raking leaves. I asked, in English as I knew no other language, if there was a hostel or vandrarhem or rum. He directed me a little further down the road. I showed up and a sweet young lady tried to check me in. I write try, because I recall she kept making tiny mistakes with the copier, the form, with her English. When she finally handed me the key, she said, You will be the only one staying there tonight 

A little creepy. It was an old army barracks. I imagined ghost soldiers looking out with binoculars for Soviet submarines. Anyway, I parked the bike and went inside where I sorted through my stuff and readied for a shower down the hall. When I emerged there was a man. Good thing I had decided to bring my clothes instead of just wearing a towel.

He said, There is a festival on Faro tonight.

One) I was startled; I thought I was alone, and, two) Where is Faro?

I hopped on my bike and rode to the ferry. After alighting from the ferry I locked up the bike as there was a shuttle to transport us from place to place. After the tourists leave, the island has a little celebration—with an eye toward tourists. So the stops were at souvenir shops featuring after-season prices and lively restaurants. I bought a trio of hedgehogs, likely made in China. Apparently the island’s mascot was the hedgehog. And Bergman—I would come to learn as our next stop was—the Bergman Center.

I’m not a film buff, but I know the name. I went inside and chatted with the director (of the center, not Bergman) whose son had interned at the local Chicago PBS station WTTW. He recited to me their lingo: Window to the World. Yes, I thought, this is so Bergman-ish.

The last stop, which was also in the recent film Bergman Island, was a small church. The interior was lit by candles and a choir sang a short mass. I was given a program, but it was all in Swedish. What really resonated across language was the spirit and ambiance of that sacred space. It was like a peaceful soul transcending and descending Jacob’s Ladder. Still not sure of all the protocols, I left a bit early and walked to the mark on my map to await the shuttle. I loved the breeze in my hair, the gentle lights emanating from the church, and the dark island sky.

Eventually, I made it back to my bike and rode the ferry back to the main isle, and then pedaled back to the hostel. Where sometime in the middle of the night I got up to pee and was again started by a guest. Me and another woman ran into each other in the bathroom and we both screamed. She said, I was told I was the only one, and I echoed her, I was told the same thing!

Apparently the poor receptionist had told everyone she handed a key to that they would be by themselves. We laughed and went back to our respective rooms to sleep.

Fanny and Alexander's costumes at Bergman Center

night church on Faro

the bike