Maestro Ingmar is gone. Passed away yesterday. Was 89. Made more than fifty films. One third of them would always be held as great achievement (as long as cinema lasts, and is remembered). What more a man would want of life. Had so many women. Didn’t ever talk of art in pompous words. Wrote his autobiography “The Magic Lantern” so fantastically. How many filmmakers have done that? Didn’t bother with press and public after he announced his retirement (think made just one more feature after “Fanny and Alexander”).

Great man. A whole era of greats (Bunuel, Fellini, Tarkovsky, Bresson) that made sixties so vibrant and exciting for film-viewing, ends with Bergman’s exit.

Ciao. Arrivederci Ingmar!