One of the great mysteries of cinema has always been how Ingmar Bergman was capable of being so prolific, often producing at least one film a year during his peak, but yet managed to make nearly every one of them a profound and insightful work that looks deep into one aspect of the human condition. There are very few bad films that the esteemed auteur made, with the majority of his work being absolutely impeccable, whether he was working within the confines of a very small, intimate social dramas, or surrendering fully to the splendour of some of his historical epics. Brink of Life (Swedish: Nära livet) falls squarely within the former category, a quiet and meditative human drama that bears similarities to a stage production, driven entirely by a quartet of characters who come from different walks of life, but are bound together in a temporary setting by virtue of being in similar situations, which the film explores with grace and an endless amount of intellectual provocation that feels tender without coming across as overwrought or uncaring, which is often a ridiculous accusation levelled against Bergman, whose bleak, arid stories are often considered to be indicative of his entire style. A work of profound, unflinching humanity that never wavers in how it addresses some deeply disturbing issues, Brink of Life is a striking masterwork that may take us on a haunting journey into the minds of three women in a position no one wants to find themselves in, the film combines a strong story, magnificent performances and a distinct style that all add up to something very close to a masterpiece, hailing from a director who peddled in these kinds of exquisite films with alarming regularity.

The film takes place entirely within a maternity ward in a hospital somewhere in Sweden. Three women find themselves occupying the same room, watched over by the empathetic but reserved Nurse Brita (Barbro Hiort af Ornäs). Cecilia (Ingrid Thulin) is two-months pregnant, and has been admitted after she begins to feel extremely painful contractions, which she fears may be a sign that she is about to lose her unborn child, which her husband (Erland Josephson) seems to be apathetic about. During this time, she encounters two fellow patients – Hjördis (Bibi Andersson) is well into her pregnancy, but rather than feeling the joy of bringing new life into the world, she feels lonely, since the father of the child refuses to take responsibility, even going so far as to break contact with Hjördis, who is now worried that she is going to be seen as an unfit parent, since society doesn’t look kindly on unwed mothers. The other is Stina (Eva Dahlbeck), who is in a loving relationship with Harry (Max von Sydow), and who is at the hospital to give birth, which she is hopeful will happen at any moment, since she is past her expected due date. However, there are signs that there might be complications, and she quietly prays that it won’t result in a miscarriage, since it would be beyond traumatic to lose the child she was hoping could bring new light into her life. All three of the women spend a few days together, discussing a range of topics as a way of becoming familiar with the path ahead of them through noting the experiences of those that have been there already, or are patiently waiting to start their own journey.

Like we’ve come to expect from any Bergman film, Brink of Life is one that touches on a range of different ideas, all of them speaking to both the particular social and cultural milieu at the time in which they were made, as well as relating heavily to the current state of the world, which has always been an unintentional quirk of a director whose work was always socially-charged and brimming with a genuine curiosity towards some deeper issues. In the case of this film, Bergman is exploring one of the most compelling themes that recur throughout his work, namely that of femininity and the role of women in society. As one of the few male directors of his time that successfully managed to create meaningful female characters in stories that look directly at very real issues, Bergman was capable of making some bold statements, which was undoubtedly a result of working very closely with his group of regular collaborators, who helped inform much of his work. Brink of Life employs four incredibly gifted actresses to bring these ideas to life, and through their spirited performance, the film manages to transcend boundaries that are still difficult to cross by modern standards, executing some ambitious discussions in a time when more mainstream work wouldn’t dare tackle such intimidating ideas. Not only is this a film about women navigating a hostile world, it compounds on the central theme of motherhood, which is a tricky subject, since this is looking at what is often considered the ultimate joy (bringing a new life to the world) through the lens of tragedy. Bergman knows how to handle the material, and over the course of the film does so exceptionally well in bringing the heartfulness to a story that could’ve easily have become unforgivably heavy-handed had it not been guided by his assured direction, which evokes the melancholy rather than just layering tragedy over an already downbeat story.

The cast of Brink of Life is absolutely astonishing, and without the dedicated work being put in by the quartet of gifted women at the centre of the film, there’s very little doubt that it wouldn’t have succeeded as much as it did. The trio of women playing the mothers are all equally brilliant, and bring something unique to their roles. Ingrid Thulin is stoic and stern as the steadfast wife who is intent on doing what is best for herself and the unborn child she’s carrying, even if it means distancing herself from her apathetic husband, who doesn’t seem to have any real interest in helping her work through her anxieties. Eva Dahlbeck is the emotional heart of the film, playing the only one of the characters who aren’t here for the sake of an emergency, but rather waiting to give birth to a healthy baby, which she hopes will kickstart her life as a mother, and bring new meaning to her existence, only to discover that she is the one about to face the most harrowing challenges when everything doesn’t go according to play. Bibi Andersson rounds out the trio as the damaged girl who is about to become a single mother, since her former lover has essentially retreated from her life entirely, leaving her to become self-sufficient, a decision that means she will have to face the scorn of being a single mother in a society that doesn’t perceive women in these situations particularly favourable. These stories are all connected by the unheralded star of the film, veteran actress Barbro Hiort af Ornäs, who plays the kindhearted nurse with such conviction, being mainly an observer, but someone who helps the women in ways they would not have expected otherwise. It’s a tremendous cast, and once again proves how astonishingly gifted Bergman was when assembling groups of performers to lend their talents to his already striking stories, which in turn benefit from some gifted actors interpreting them.

Brink of Life is understandably a film that may not occupy the upper-echelons of its director’s career – but this isn’t a case of it being a minor work in itself, but rather one that appears slightly more obscure in comparison to his towering masterpieces. What is often the case with Bergman is that his more ambitious productions tend to make their way to the top, while those that are more intimate or don’t have a premise that comes across exceptionally well in a single logline, tend to be lesser-known, or at least seen at a much lower rate. However, what is absolutely clear is that he was capable of telling stories that manage to captivate as much as they do provoke thought, and considering the depths to which Brink of Life demonstrated itself willing to go, we can easily see exactly where the interest resided here. Bergman was a master of the craft, and someone who could evoke so much emotion from absolutely anything, even the most banal or heartbreakingly bleak moments. It’s a stunning film from the master of socially-charged dramas, and through some magnificent performances, a clear and concise sense of direction, and an understanding of the intimidating material, he made yet another tremendously powerful masterpiece that never rests on its laurels, and instead defies all expectations and becomes something almost unimpeachably profound, and always in sync with perceptions, whether those at the time, or contemporary perspectives on the wealth of issues that underpin this story.