This atypical slapstick romp by Bergman follows a haughty music critic (Jarl Kulle) who ventures to the home of a renowned cellist only to be snubbed by his subject and regaled instead by the parade of women who orbit the artist’s domestic sphere. Despite the cheery mood and tossed-off musical cues, however, there’s a notably personal dimension to the material, as the critic’s presumptuous attitude, much as it makes him an exasperating protagonist, marks him as an apparent representation of the director’s attitude toward the rational-minded reviewers of his own work. Likewise, the fact that the resilient women who simultaneously charm and sabotage the aspiring biographer are played by a stable of Bergman muses (Eva Dahlbeck, Bibi Andersson, and Harriet Andersson) adds further shading to the film’s enlightening, if somewhat petty, itinerary of famous filmmaker neuroses. Bergman shot All These Women in vibrant color on provocatively fake-looking sets, and the resulting aesthetic is a novelty in his career, albeit not one with much staying power; the director wouldn’t use color stock again for another five years.