Our Only Bergman Story

Like many of you, we are saddened at the death of Ingmar Bergman, who was quite possibly the world's greatest living filmmaker. Our lights are all a bit dimmer for his passing. Having never met Bergman, we leave you with this (true) story in lieu of a personal remembrance:

As many of you know, a few years ago, a film school student made a documentary about Dan and I, in which he followed me to a park where I performed as a "Surrealist Mime," which meant that I talked to a bunch of people and refused to juggle. If you haven't seen the clip, you can go here to watch the video.

Now, when I was in college, I audited a Films of Ingmar Bergman class taught by this woman who was from Yonkers or somewhere but just happened to speak Swedish. From watching Bergman movies, I myself happen to know a little Swedish. It is this (and forgive the spelling): "Nay tak, mur. Jag er durden." Which translates as "No thank you, mother. I am death."

So we're at the park, but we're finished and heading back to the van, and as we're walking out, I see this woman bobbing toward us. It is the Yonkers-woman from the Bergman class. And because she is one of those people who believes themselves to be funny when they are, in fact, not, she says to me "Nice tan," I'm assuming because she thinks it will prompt me to do a flip.

No flips, though, and I reply "Thanks." She gets this effronted look on her face and yells "You're not supposed to talk!"

To which I reply "Jag er durden."

Here's the thing: She didn't recognize me. I was a total stranger to her. Plus, we were in Texas, and she is, I am quite certain, the only person in Texas who speaks Swedish. So she's all "doo-doodoo," walking to the park one day and she sees this mime, who looks at her and tells her in a language only she understands "I am death."

She froze on the spot. I kept walking like nothing had happened. I haven't seen her since, but I'm sure that to this day she has an abiding and deeply realized fear of mimes, and heads the other way every time she sees one.

Wouldn't you?

So good night, Ingmar Bergman, and thank you.


Vince out.