In 1982, world renowned Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman decided to make his last feature film as a director (though he still works to this day doing documentaries, writing, producing, and doing television work). That film was Fanny & Alexander, a semi autobiographical opus that, as Bergman states, sums up what he is as a filmmaker.

The Ekdahl's are an affluent family living in a small Swedish town in the early beginnings of the twentieth century. Oscar and Emily, the mother and father of the family, are the two key players in the local town theater (Oscar as a director and Emily as an actress) and because of this, their children, Fanny and Alexander, have always been surrounded by costumes, sets, and theatrics. Oscar's mother and brother are the two chief financial supporters of the arts in the area and it is obvious that the theater is a very important part of the Ekdahl family dynamic.

Unfortunately for Fanny and Alexander, their father passes away far too early. Their mother, understandably deep in mourning, turns to the local minister, Edvard, for comfort and soon falls in love with him. Despite his obvious misunderstanding of the children, Emily soon moves them in with her and remarries the priest, who is a cold and hard man who doesn't understand them or make much of an effort to try to, though at times it does seem like he has the best of intentions for the children at heart. He sees things very much in terms of black and white, and when it comes to the dealings of children things are never quite that simple and he has some very serious problems with this 'cut and dry' outlook on life.

Spread out over five distinct chapters, Fanny & Alexander is a very slow moving film that builds and builds and builds in such a way that while the conclusion may seem slightly obvious, it is nothing but a pleasure to let the film take us there despite its mammoth running time. The story is told quietly and without much of the heavy handed symbolism that he used in some of his earlier films like The Seventh Seal, playing more like a happier (can you use the word 'happy' when describing a Bergman film?) Cries And Whispers in the way that in unfolds and allows the viewer to make up his or her own mind about intricacies of the storyline.

The autobiographical moments in the film serve to make it a very personal vehicle for the director. He was raised in a strict religious home, and his father was a priest (though the priest character in this film not only represents Bergman's father, but also seems to parallel Bergman himself in the way that he treats those around him). The opening scene of Alexander playing with a puppet theater set is a parallel to Bergman's own early beginnings in the performing arts, as he cut his teeth at a young age doing the same thing. The entire reason that Bergman made it into the film industry in the first place is because one of his plays was seen by the right producer in Sweden when it was performed, again tying back many of the themes, settings, and concepts of Fanny & Alexander back to the director's own life and experiences.

When Alexander reconciles things towards the end of the film thanks to an elderly Jewish man who specializes in antiques, there are still some unanswered questions left out there to ponder but the film concludes in a fitting manner. Like many of Bergman's movies it doesn't give you all the answer right up front and is rather demanding in the sense that it makes you think about things rather than just hand them to you.

Regular Bergman cinematographer Sven Nykvist does an amazing job of capturing all of the drama and emotion that pours out of the film. All of their experience working together comes bubbling up to the top in a big, beautiful looking film that uses a rich collection of colors and set and clever camera positioning to make the powerful story even more dramatic and heart rendering. Even if you walk away from the film having gotten nothing from it (let's face it, Bergman's work is definitely not for all tastes), at least you'll have been treated to some truly sumptuous visuals that will leave your eyes wanting more.

The theatrical version clocks in at one hundred and eighty eight minutes in length, considerably shorter than its televised counterpart which runs for a whopping three hundred and twelve minutes in length. This televised version is the version that Berman wanted to present but couldn't get into theaters. It was broadcast on Swedish television in five installments and it reinserts the approximately two hours of cuts that were required when trimming the film down to what was considered an appropriate length for theatrical exhibition. This release marks the first time that the television version of the film has been released on home video in the United States, and because of that it will probably be the first time a lot of people are able to see the film as the director intended it to be seen.

At five hours in length, the television version feels like a more complete film. As you watch the theatrical cut, you'll notice that certain aspects of the story and certain details within the film almost seem to be missing. Some of the trims are quite obvious and when the storyline unfolds so languidly as it does in this film, it becomes rather apparent when segments are severed. Watching the television version the movie feels far more cohesive and while it takes two additional hours of viewing time to get through it, it is time well spent in that you're seeing the film the way that it should be seen – with all the little nuances and quirks intact. The theatrical version is good, but it isn't as good.

Criterion has given Bergman fans a few different options in the way that they can add Fanny & Alexander to their home video libraries – not only has this five disc set been made available containing both the theatrical version of the film, the Swedish television version of the film and a disc of extra features, but the theatrical version is also available separately which, according to Criterion's website, includes the extra features disc from the boxed set but not the television version.

Video:

Both versions of the film are presented in their original aspect ratio of 1.66.1 and are enhanced for anamorphic television sets. These new high definition transfers look absolutely sparkling and aside from some extremely minor print damage and little bit of grain here and there, both versions of the film look gorgeous. Bergman's color films always make great use of different hues to portray warmth and emotion in the sets and buildings and rooms in which the films take place. Fanny & Alexander is no exception to this. Criterion's transfer ensures that every drop of color comes through with clarity, the hues never bleeding into each other (especially important with the reds) and always looking distinct yet retaining a very organic and natural look and feel.