Ingmar Bergman is a director of unparalleled brilliance. Since his first script, 1944's Torment, Bergman has always delivered thoughtful and engaging films that delve deep into humanity. Be it relations between one another, our consciousness and subconsciousness, or any number of various facets of our existence, Bergman cuts to the very core of humanity and bring to light these many layers and elements in exceedingly artful ways. And one of the great tales told by the Swedish titan that demonstrates this well is his cherished and revered classic, The Seventh Seal.
The Seventh Seal is a masterful piece of filmmaking that explores man's relationship with religion in medieval times, a time when the Church had a stranglehold on feudal Europe. The story of disillusioned knight Antonius Block, played by the impeccable Max von Sydow, returning from the grueling Crusades to lands ravaged by the Great Plague and taking on Death itself, portrayed by the chilling Bengt Ekerot, in a chess match for his life is one of the most simple yet complex tales captured on celluloid. Alongside this central battle is a colorful cast of side characters, including he blissful pair of actors Jof & Mia, played by Nils Poppe & Bibi Andersson respectively, and Block's squire Jöns, brought to life with delightfully dry wit by Gunnar Björnstrand, who flesh out the dark world of medieval Sweden and provide levity and even humor in the midst of the grim conflict and existential inquires made by Block.
Bergman's script, adapted from a play of his titled Wood Painting, is somewhat on the nose in its mulling over of faith, death, and existence. But to a degree, what Bergman crafted was an adult fairy tale. The Seventh Seal is a story you could tell a child as it is simple in its narrative and its developments, but is rich in imagery and allusion, taking its title from and quoting at the outset from the eighth chapter of the Book of Revelations. Block's passionate search for knowledge and constant crisis of faith is engaging on a philosophical and personal level, aided by the impassioned performance provided by Sydow. The premise is a simple piece of high fantasy, but it delves into it themes openly and in depth. British author Melvyn Bragg put it best when he described the film as having an argumentative structure and being "told as a sermon might be delivered: an allegory." Adding to these inquiries and the sharp discussions between Block and Death in the midst of their match are characters such as Jof & Mia that bring a certain level of hope to the piece, as both are pleasant and optimistic for a fair portion of the film, with Jof being almost prophetic in a way, being able to see visions of both Mary and a young Jesus, and ominous premonitions of the effects of the Great Plague. And then there is the squire Jöns, an unadulterated cynic who, as described by American author and film historian Gerald Mast in his book A Short History of the Movies, "treats death as a bitter and hopeless joke." These supporting roles help to build the world and the themes of death and faith through their interactions with Block. All in all, the script, in spite of its bluntness, is exceptionally articulate and works wonders with its straightforward but fantastic premise.
On the technical side, The Seventh Seal is a low-budget marvel, knowing that it was made on a pauper's budget of $150,000. Bergman's direction is inspired in its bleak tone that pairs well with the equally dark concepts presented in the script. He approaches the film rather intellectually, showing chilling images of an ill woman writhing in pain being looked over by a monk, and depicting Death as incredibly callous in a famous scene involving the felling of a tree. Every actor and actress is clearly invested. Sydow, Ekerot, Björnstrand, Andersson, throw a dart, and the name you hit is giving his or her all in the role. The chemistry between the characters is spectacular, with Sydow and Ekerot boasting one of the most impressive dichotomies in committed to celluloid. Gunnar Fischer's expressionistic cinematography was universally lauded upon release, and rightfully so. The gothic and pastoral medieval imagery is elegantly captured with impressive lighting schemes and excellent framing, with the introduction of Death and the "Danse Macabre" being the two iconic shots that bookend the film. P.A. Lundgren's production design and Manne Lindholm's costume design go hand in hand in creating the lived-in world of medieval Sweden, with big props going to Lindholm in draping Death with the iconic black cloak. Also of note is the inspired score by regular collaborator Erik Nordgren, whose liberal use of the Latin chant Dies Irae, general implementation of choral passages, and orchestral mannerisms reminiscent of celebrated American composer Bernard Herrmann enrich the film through heightening the grimness and further enveloping the audience in the atmosphere of the period.
At the end of the day, The Seventh Seal is deservedly a classic. It is a film that blatantly ponders the nature of faith and death, but does so in an engaging and personal way. Through a combination of Bergman's well-crafted characters and each actor's pitch-perfect execution, you become invested in all facets of this world. You are there with Block in taking on Death, and you too want to know the answers, you want the knowledge he seeks, you too want "God to stretch out His hand." The production values are top notch, especially knowing that the budget afforded to Bergman was so small. But at the end of the day, it is a film that has to be seen to truly appreciate. So in closing, go and watch this film. If you consider yourself a fan of cinema, or are an aspiring filmmaker, simply take some time to watch this masterclass of medieval fantasy and world cinema.
Comments
Post a Comment