Liv Ullmann: A Living Legend Reflects on a Remarkable Career
The air crackled with anticipation as Liv Ullmann, a titan of European cinema, graced Berlin for a prestigious European Cinema Honorary Award. Hours after touching down, the acclaimed Norwegian actress, director, and writer was set to receive the accolade at a gala celebrating contemporary talents like Danish filmmaker Joachim Trier and his profoundly Bergmanesque family drama, Valor sentimental. It felt like a cosmic alignment, bringing together the legendary muse of Ingmar Bergman with a director who carries his cinematic torch into the present day.
Ullmann, born in Tokyo in 1938 due to her father’s diplomatic postings, has found herself on a global tour of recognition in recent years. This latest honour from the European Film Academy adds to a string of significant accolades. She received the Donostia Award at the San Sebastian Film Festival in 2007, and a long-awaited Honorary Oscar in 2022, after two previous acting nominations. Yet, despite the overwhelming evidence of her legendary status, Ullmann remains endearingly humble. “I have never believed it, and I know everyone hopes that one day I will believe it,” she states with a gentle smile and unwavering conviction. “I’m not being modest, it’s just that I really don’t think I’m a legend. I am very flattered when people are surprised, but I just don’t think it’s true.”
A Career Defined by Masterpieces
The reality, however, paints a different picture. Ullmann’s career, though largely stepping back from acting after directing Strindberg’s Miss Julie in 2014, is studded with cinematic gems. A significant portion of these are her nine collaborations with the iconic Ingmar Bergman, including seminal works like Persona, Cries and Whispers, Autumn Sonata, and the groundbreaking Scenes from a Marriage. Her talent also shone in films like Jan Troell’s The Emigrants and The New Land, and Richard Attenborough’s epic A Bridge Too Far.
Reflecting on her extensive body of work, Ullmann expresses a sense of excitement for the current European cinematic landscape. “I couldn’t do all that now, my time has come,” she admits. “But I look at it with excitement because we are all Europeans and we know how important it is to be together and fighting. Not fighting in a bad sense, but we are at a moment where we need to see movies that make us change our minds because the world is in a place we have never seen before. Even a Nobel Prize winner has gone to give it to Trump.”
Echoes of a Life Lived Fully
Ullmann’s conversation is punctuated by vivid anecdotes that illuminate a life rich with experience. She recalls a profound trip to Cambodia with a humanitarian organisation, where she met the Dalai Lama and found herself caught in a firefight on the border with Vietnam. “We stayed there and sang ‘We Shall Overcome’; that’s when I started to experience the real world for three days while we were walking and talking,” she recounts, highlighting a moment of shared resilience and reflection.
Her memories also touch upon lighter, yet equally impactful, moments. She fondly remembers filming We Hope That It’s a Girl under the Italian sun, directed by the masterful Mario Monicelli. Then there’s the unexpected foray into musical theatre for Lost Horizon, where she discovered a hidden talent for singing and dancing. “I think I don’t regret anything in my life, maybe I could say about Lost Horizon, but not really,” she muses. “Because now I can look back, laugh, and besides, it was the gateway to something very important in my life. I can’t regret anything, I’m proud of everything that has happened to me so far.”
Finding Solace and Understanding in Later Years
At 87, Ullmann’s piercing blue eyes retain their captivating intensity. She navigates conversations about her artistic and personal journey with grace, whether discussing past triumphs, preparing to accept an award, or simply enjoying quiet moments. “Now that I am 87 years old, what I like is to be alone in my apartment,” she shares. “I already liked it when I moved to the United States 50 years ago, I have always liked being alone.”
This solitude, she explains, is not one of loneliness but of profound internal connection. “I can be alone because I still feel like a child, inside I am 14 years old, and I can approach to see the photographs and say ‘Hello, Mom, I’m starting to understand it’,” she reveals. “I just do what I could have done when I was younger. I have a familiarity with the people who have been part of my life, I remember many things, and I still have many friends from the United States and Norway. It’s just that most of the people I was with are now part… how to say it? Of the universe. I don’t believe we will be reborn or anything, but I do believe that those people are part of something. That’s why when I talk to Mom, it’s not childish. It’s just me, and I can do it, it doesn’t matter. Now I understand her much better. And then there are people I have forgotten. Maybe it’s a good time to be older.”
Revisiting the Past, Embracing the Present
The evening prior to this conversation, Ullmann experienced a poignant moment of self-reflection with a screening of selected scenes from Scenes from a Marriage in Berlin. “There I saw myself young, I was 35 years old, and I have already lived more than double that,” she laughs, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I could have suggested other movies, but I am very happy to see myself in that one. I can say that it’s not my story with Ingmar Bergman, but it’s very important that someone at that time wanted to make a film about unhappy relationships. And, although I think it’s a very sad movie, it’s wonderful because it gives a feminist view of how women feel free. But seen from now, it’s also for men. I regret not being able to tell Erland Josephson [the actor who plays her husband in the movie].”
As the interview draws to a close, Liv Ullmann once again extends her hand, a gesture of warmth and connection. Her parting words, repeated with sincere intent, encapsulate her enduring spirit: “I hope we see each other again soon.”
