Heading into the local art-house for a matinee screening of Faithless, I was surprised to find so many people inside. Don't these people realize that this is not going to be a mindless romp like The Mummy Returns, or an explosive Pearl Harbor filled with old-time soap-opera sentimentality? As I settled into my seat, my fears abated. Relatively sparse pre-film talking and laughing was taking place. This was a serious and somber crowd—perfect for an Ingmar Bergman film.

Make no mistake about it; Faithless belongs in Ingmar Bergman's canon of works along with the far superior Wild Strawberries and Persona, even though the legendary 82-year-old Swedish director doesn't get behind the camera this time. It's still his script, and his former lover Liv Ullmann, re-creates her Persona role in real life, merging with Bergman's cinematic sensibilities so much that you'll swear that Bergman is the director. Who else has better credentials to know the psychology and thinking of the screenwriter? She acted in nine of his films.

Actually, Ullmann amplifies Bergman's well-known strength of being able to get inside a woman's mind with the way she handles Marianne (Lena Endre) and the turmoil she suffers in her ill-fated love affair. Adultery and its consequences form the core of the plot—Bergman's latest obsession, as his previous made-for-TV 1996 screenplay Personal Confessions (also directed by Ullmann) deals with the same theme. Could Bergman be dealing with the guilt he feels about such an affair?

Shades of other Bergman films populate the somber Faithless, beginning with a lonely elderly man (named "Bergman" when we see the end credits), who lives in a spartan house on the ocean shore. With these first images the audience immediately begins to look for Bergman's trademark symbols—what does the eternal ocean signify, and what about those gnarled trees? But sometimes oceans are just oceans and trees are just trees. And Bergman's script even pokes fun at pretentiousness, telling us to take the film at its simplest terms.

Getting down to basics, Faithless focuses on the ill-fated, illicit affair that Marianne has with movie director David (Krister Henriksson), who happens to be the best friend of Marianne's husband Markus (Thomas Hanzon), a musician/conductor who is often on tour. Added to the family mix is an 8-year-old daughter, Isabelle (Michelle Gylemo).

Told via flashbacks and in such a way that we realize the old man is David, the initially joyful tryst that Marianne undertakes with David in Paris only self-destructively leads to pain, guilt, and unforgiving regrets that will plague both lovers.

True to Bergman's cinematic tastes, Ullmann spends far longer capturing the characters' faces than any other director would dare. Over half the movie consists of close-ups of faces, particularly of lead actress Endre, who puts on an acting tour de force of every conceivable emotion—a performance that recalls the incredible tearful acting of Maria Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc. There isn't a lot of action in the film, but Endre's face communicates the intense emotions to keep the audience involved.

The greatest challenge of Faithless comes during the first half, when most of the narrative is achieved through a preponderance of dialogue narrated by talking heads—primarily Marianne's, as she spills her adulterous experiences to the silent old man. This portion of the film comes across like a psychotherapy session that goes into overtime, but just as our patience and endurance are stretched to the limits, Ullmann finally throws in some complications and changes the pace. The second half of the movie flows much better, demonstrating that the whole film would play better with some tighter editing.

Of course, Faithless won't play to a broad audience. A melancholy Bergman work isn't meant for the masses, no matter how brilliant the writing, staging, and acting. Can you imagine Hollywood getting hold of a Bergman script and instructing Ullmann to insert an "up" ending and use faster camera movement and cuts to make the movie more palatable to American mainstream multiplex audiences?

Bergman fans would picket the theaters, realizing that serious films are in danger. No one goes to a Bergman film to have a fun time, but his loyal fans will patronize his films—regardless of their quality. They always provide fodder for thinking and discussion. Faithless gives us 2 1/2 hours to seriously evaluate the worthiness of a human life, and many patrons will spend additional somber hours afterwards reflecting on the experience.

Now that some time has passed, I have a better perspective on Faithless. Count me among Bergman's patrons, who enter the theater expecting to enjoy his creations and know that they'll be challenged to think through his philosophy and obsessions. Through the first half of Faithless, I began to worry about how to compose a negative review of a Bergman film without being thrown out of the club—how much of a therapy session with a crying woman do we want to endure when we're not being paid to listen? And the over-reliance on showing nothing but talking heads struck me as either lazy or pretentious. Fortunately, the film picks up steam after the first ponderous hour—confrontations and rape help a great deal.

Ingmar Bergman has created some of the very best films that have ever been made, but his semi-retirement has caused him to turn more inwardly for his material. Considering that Bergman and Ullmann once broke off their marriages to live with each other for 5 years makes Faithless required viewing for Bergman fans, but doesn�t mean that this film ranks anywhere near the best of his canon. No longer seeking God and Truth, Bergman now searches for the more attainable goals of forgiveness and redemption.

I can only give Faithless a lukewarm recommendation when considering all of Bergman's works. The people who should see it already know who they are.