though she doesn’t say a single word. Alma gradually opens up more and more to Elisabeth – in fact, she bares herself completely, stripping herself naked, revealing her innermost thoughts and darkest secrets. But in the end it turns out that Elisabeth has just been toying with Alma, that she means nothing to her. Elisabeth utterly betrays her. I don’t know, but I think the whole film is one big desperate scream. A cry for help.’
‘Exactly,’ muttered Håkan. ‘That’s just what I was saying. They’re all about nothing but screaming.’
Sam, on the other hand, seemed impressed by what Stina had said. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind.
THE DAY STARTED off fine. The grey skies had cleared and the sun was shining through the thin curtains. Andrea had slept well all night long, except that just after 3 a.m. she was awakened by the young girls in the next room who giggled as they came stumbling up the stairs in the small inn. The wooden floorboards creaked; there was a thud as one of them dropped something, followed by stifled laughter. In addition to film showings, discussions and lectures about the master director, the Bergman festival included a lot of late-night partying.
She had fallen asleep quickly, only to be awakened this morning by Sam’s snoring. He lay in bed with his mouth open, sound asleep. With every inhalation, a gurgling sound issued from deep in his throat and then rose up to his mouth, where it was transformed into a low growl before exploding into a roar that made his chin tremble. She turned over to study his face. With his eyes closed his dark lashes looked even thicker under his heavy brows. Although he was over forty, his hair was just as thick and dark as when they met twenty years ago. In fact, she thought, he looks even more handsome after all these years. The few wrinkles that he had at the corners of his eyes gave his face character. His nose had a strong curve and sensitive nostrils that quivered whenever he was nervous or upset. At the moment his full lips were open to allow the snoring sounds to escape with a regularity reminiscent of the lapping of the waves outside.
She woke Sam and a short time later they went down to breakfast, which was served in the dining room on the floor below. As soon as Andrea stepped in the door she was struck by the hushed atmosphere of the room.It was like entering a different century, far from the modern world. And the silence seemed to be affecting everyone. They automatically lowered their voices, breathed more calmly, moved slower. The pace was languid.
Their chairs scraped a bit on the floor as Sam and Andrea sat down.
Although the long room had big windows facing the garden, it seemed dimly lit. Heavy drapes and great quantities of knick-knacks on the window ledges also contributed to keeping out the light. The centre of the room was dominated by a rectangular table made of dark-stained oak, with an assortment of mismatched chairs: one with a high back, another with a plush seat, a third with beautifully curved legs.
Various objects had been placed along the walls: a tiled stove, an Indian elephant made of cloth, an old wind-up gramophone, a shop mannequin draped in a floral-printed dress with a black bowler on its head, a glittery theatre mask, an old sewing machine, a vinyl LP by Maurice Chevalier. The table had been set with care, covered with bowls, platters, and plates – all made of different materials and colours. Next to each place setting was a lovely ornate, stemmed crystal bowl, filled to the brim with vanilla yoghurt, topped with fresh raspberries and a little sprig of mint. There was also a glass plate shaped like a leaf which held fruit salad, a coffee cup decorated with blue flowers, and a silver spoon. In the centre of the table bowls and platters had been lined up, holding bread, cheese, ham, salami, caviar and marmalade. There were eggs in a basket, milk in a silver pitcher, and orange juice in a
‘Exactly,’ muttered Håkan. ‘That’s just what I was saying. They’re all about nothing but screaming.’
Sam, on the other hand, seemed impressed by what Stina had said. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind.
THE DAY STARTED off fine. The grey skies had cleared and the sun was shining through the thin curtains. Andrea had slept well all night long, except that just after 3 a.m. she was awakened by the young girls in the next room who giggled as they came stumbling up the stairs in the small inn. The wooden floorboards creaked; there was a thud as one of them dropped something, followed by stifled laughter. In addition to film showings, discussions and lectures about the master director, the Bergman festival included a lot of late-night partying.
She had fallen asleep quickly, only to be awakened this morning by Sam’s snoring. He lay in bed with his mouth open, sound asleep. With every inhalation, a gurgling sound issued from deep in his throat and then rose up to his mouth, where it was transformed into a low growl before exploding into a roar that made his chin tremble. She turned over to study his face. With his eyes closed his dark lashes looked even thicker under his heavy brows. Although he was over forty, his hair was just as thick and dark as when they met twenty years ago. In fact, she thought, he looks even more handsome after all these years. The few wrinkles that he had at the corners of his eyes gave his face character. His nose had a strong curve and sensitive nostrils that quivered whenever he was nervous or upset. At the moment his full lips were open to allow the snoring sounds to escape with a regularity reminiscent of the lapping of the waves outside.
She woke Sam and a short time later they went down to breakfast, which was served in the dining room on the floor below. As soon as Andrea stepped in the door she was struck by the hushed atmosphere of the room.It was like entering a different century, far from the modern world. And the silence seemed to be affecting everyone. They automatically lowered their voices, breathed more calmly, moved slower. The pace was languid.
Their chairs scraped a bit on the floor as Sam and Andrea sat down.
Although the long room had big windows facing the garden, it seemed dimly lit. Heavy drapes and great quantities of knick-knacks on the window ledges also contributed to keeping out the light. The centre of the room was dominated by a rectangular table made of dark-stained oak, with an assortment of mismatched chairs: one with a high back, another with a plush seat, a third with beautifully curved legs.
Various objects had been placed along the walls: a tiled stove, an Indian elephant made of cloth, an old wind-up gramophone, a shop mannequin draped in a floral-printed dress with a black bowler on its head, a glittery theatre mask, an old sewing machine, a vinyl LP by Maurice Chevalier. The table had been set with care, covered with bowls, platters, and plates – all made of different materials and colours. Next to each place setting was a lovely ornate, stemmed crystal bowl, filled to the brim with vanilla yoghurt, topped with fresh raspberries and a little sprig of mint. There was also a glass plate shaped like a leaf which held fruit salad, a coffee cup decorated with blue flowers, and a silver spoon. In the centre of the table bowls and platters had been lined up, holding bread, cheese, ham, salami, caviar and marmalade. There were eggs in a basket, milk in a silver pitcher, and orange juice in a
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