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Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

The Reeler wonders what's not from a Bergman film

bergman_1.jpgTake it away, Stu: “I live kind of a pathetic little life in Jersey City, N.J. There’s the tiny apartment I just moved into, with the home office, two disused CD players, a stack of unpaid bills, an empty refrigerator and more dirty clothes than I can sometimes afford to wash. Traffic noise persists virtually around the clock. None of the bodegas in the neighborhood sell beer, and none of the liquor stores sell food. The last tenant took the air conditioners he pledged to leave behind. I’m too cheap to replace them. Across Montgomery Street is a church that I spy every day and from which a cloudburst of hymns sneaks through its three-story facade each weekend. It’s a Spanish-language church; I can’t make out a word of it. But there’s something very familiar about its weekday quietude — the boxy crosses and weathered wooden doors, the tiny vestibule tucked between the bases of twin spires, the faded blue and yellow windows against the sand-colored walls, an old, humble monolith that would apologize for its own symmetry if it could. In my lapses of workaday self-pity, I stare out the window and think, “It’s like a scene from a Bergman film.” Well, of course it is. Everything is like a scene from a Bergman film…” [Much more at the link.]

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