rejected today."
Marvin returned. "So what have you decided on?" he asked Chris.
"I was looking at a four-door 1956 Mercedes," Chris said.
"Hitler's car?" Marvin said. Whistle. Pop! "Kid, you deserve the best because you're the son of a star. Why don't you get a job?"
"Chris is working at a record store," Michelle said. "He's working for free right now, until the owner of the store makes enough money to pay his employees."
"Jesus Christ," Marvin said.
"I was looking at a BMW," Chris said "It's $2,100. New, it would be three thousand."
"Why not get new?" Marvin said.
"I don't have three thousand."
"But big daddy does."
"Let's order pizza," Michelle said. She picked up the phone and ordered three pizzas, one with anchovies.
"You're pregnant," Marvin said. "She's got to be. Christopher, you're going to be a grandfather."
LaBoo, who had edged into the house through a crack in the door, walked out of the bedroom now with a pair of women's panties in his mouth.
"Christ, LaBoo, keep those panties out of sight," Marvin said. "Last night, she says, Where'dyouget these panties? Idunno, I say. She says, Well they're not mine. I say, Honey, Isure as hell didn't wear them home." Marvin sighed and held his hands palms up in resignation. "The only way to solve a situation with a girl," he said, "is just jump on her and things will work out."
He took the panties from LaBoo and threw them back into the bedroom. "So what do you think?" he asked Chris.
"The BMW has fantastic cornering, Dad," Chris said. "It has really fantastic quality."
Marvin paused at the door to look out at the surf. "Don't be deceived by quality," he said. "Get something you like now, and trade it in later. The car may turn out to have such fantastic quality you'll puke seeing it around so long."
He sighed and sat down in his chair again.
LaBoojumped into his lap.
"LaBoo, you mean black prince," Marvin said, rubbing the dog's head carelessly.
INTRODUCTION
n 1974, I was supposed to join a small group that would fly from Stockholm to the island of Faro and watch Bergman at work on the island where he lived. Because of a ticketing error, I arrived in Stockholm a day late, and missed the opportunity. Bergman had a publicist named Ernie Anderson, who worked through his agent, Paul Kohner. Ernie had only two clients: Bergman and Charles Bronson. Ernie arranged for this visit to the set of Face to Face in 1975, where I finally met Bergman and his professional family: he used the same crew members year after year, from the cinematographer Sven Nykvist to the woman who prepared tea every afternoon. I love what Bergman has to say here about the human face.
Some years later, Bergman had a disagreement with the Swedish tax authorities and left the country. He flew to Los Angeles and asked his agent Kohner to arrange a visit to a Hollywood set.
"Ernie is working on the new Charles Bronson film," Kohner told him. "You want to see that?"
He did. Ingmar Bergman, the high priest of cinematic art, visited the set of Breakheart Pass, a Charles Bronson Western.
"Please explain to me what you are doing," he said to Bronson.
"Well," said Bronson, "this is a scene where I get shot. So I'm wearing these squibs with fake blood under my shirt, and-but you know all this stuff. You're a director."
"No, no, please continue," Bergman said. "This is all new to me."
"You mean you don't use guns in your pictures?"
1975
STOCK HOILM-When he is in Stockholm, Ingmar Bergman lives in a new apartment complex called Karlapan. It's comfortable, not ostenta tious; Bergman doesn't often have friends in because he considers it not a home but a dormitory to sleep in while he's making a film. His wife Ingrid prepares meals there, but if the Bergmans entertain it is more likely to be at his customary table in the Theater Grill, a stately restaurant directly across the street from the back door of the Royal Dramatic Theater. The table is not easily found, or seen; it is behind a large
Marvin returned. "So what have you decided on?" he asked Chris.
"I was looking at a four-door 1956 Mercedes," Chris said.
"Hitler's car?" Marvin said. Whistle. Pop! "Kid, you deserve the best because you're the son of a star. Why don't you get a job?"
"Chris is working at a record store," Michelle said. "He's working for free right now, until the owner of the store makes enough money to pay his employees."
"Jesus Christ," Marvin said.
"I was looking at a BMW," Chris said "It's $2,100. New, it would be three thousand."
"Why not get new?" Marvin said.
"I don't have three thousand."
"But big daddy does."
"Let's order pizza," Michelle said. She picked up the phone and ordered three pizzas, one with anchovies.
"You're pregnant," Marvin said. "She's got to be. Christopher, you're going to be a grandfather."
LaBoo, who had edged into the house through a crack in the door, walked out of the bedroom now with a pair of women's panties in his mouth.
"Christ, LaBoo, keep those panties out of sight," Marvin said. "Last night, she says, Where'dyouget these panties? Idunno, I say. She says, Well they're not mine. I say, Honey, Isure as hell didn't wear them home." Marvin sighed and held his hands palms up in resignation. "The only way to solve a situation with a girl," he said, "is just jump on her and things will work out."
He took the panties from LaBoo and threw them back into the bedroom. "So what do you think?" he asked Chris.
"The BMW has fantastic cornering, Dad," Chris said. "It has really fantastic quality."
Marvin paused at the door to look out at the surf. "Don't be deceived by quality," he said. "Get something you like now, and trade it in later. The car may turn out to have such fantastic quality you'll puke seeing it around so long."
He sighed and sat down in his chair again.
LaBoojumped into his lap.
"LaBoo, you mean black prince," Marvin said, rubbing the dog's head carelessly.
INTRODUCTION
n 1974, I was supposed to join a small group that would fly from Stockholm to the island of Faro and watch Bergman at work on the island where he lived. Because of a ticketing error, I arrived in Stockholm a day late, and missed the opportunity. Bergman had a publicist named Ernie Anderson, who worked through his agent, Paul Kohner. Ernie had only two clients: Bergman and Charles Bronson. Ernie arranged for this visit to the set of Face to Face in 1975, where I finally met Bergman and his professional family: he used the same crew members year after year, from the cinematographer Sven Nykvist to the woman who prepared tea every afternoon. I love what Bergman has to say here about the human face.
Some years later, Bergman had a disagreement with the Swedish tax authorities and left the country. He flew to Los Angeles and asked his agent Kohner to arrange a visit to a Hollywood set.
"Ernie is working on the new Charles Bronson film," Kohner told him. "You want to see that?"
He did. Ingmar Bergman, the high priest of cinematic art, visited the set of Breakheart Pass, a Charles Bronson Western.
"Please explain to me what you are doing," he said to Bronson.
"Well," said Bronson, "this is a scene where I get shot. So I'm wearing these squibs with fake blood under my shirt, and-but you know all this stuff. You're a director."
"No, no, please continue," Bergman said. "This is all new to me."
"You mean you don't use guns in your pictures?"
1975
STOCK HOILM-When he is in Stockholm, Ingmar Bergman lives in a new apartment complex called Karlapan. It's comfortable, not ostenta tious; Bergman doesn't often have friends in because he considers it not a home but a dormitory to sleep in while he's making a film. His wife Ingrid prepares meals there, but if the Bergmans entertain it is more likely to be at his customary table in the Theater Grill, a stately restaurant directly across the street from the back door of the Royal Dramatic Theater. The table is not easily found, or seen; it is behind a large
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