I'm taking a break from Tarkovsky, but don't worry, I'll be back with Solaris (1971) fairly soon.
On the first Monday of my Summer Break I decided to fill in some of my cinematic blankspots by venturing into the work of a certified genius and widely well regarded filmmaker, Ingmar Bergman.
And if you're going to do Bergman, you do 1957's The Seventh Seal.
The film is legend. It is required viewing in film school. It is spoken of in reverential tones. It even inspired the portrayal of Death in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey (1991).
I. What Is It?
This is the story of a knight (Max Von Sydow) and his squire, returning home from the Crusades. Death comes for the knight, but the knight challenges Death to a game of chess, in a last ditch effort to escape death and come to grips with his own faith. What follows is a story of life and death and faith and fate.II. Bear Witness to a Man's Warring Psyche
The most impressive thing about this film is the way that the characters all take part in a kind of war of ideas. They discuss death, life, faith and fate, and Bergman allows them all time to make their cases without judgement.
The knight struggles with a God he has always believed in, but now finds no solace in. He desperately wants to know that there is an afterlife before he dies. As if to retroactively justify the life of faith he's lived, even as he bears witness to the horrors of the world sprawled out before him. He has seen the plague, and seen the violence of the Crusades, and even watches as a young girl is burned at the stake by religious zealots. Before she is burned, he talks to her, sure that as consort of the devil, she will know answers about God. The knight asks to speak to the devil. The girl tells him to look into her eyes. That the devil is there. The knight sees only fear. But is it HIS fear he sees? Does he see his own reflection mirrored in her eyes? Does the girl mean that the devil is all around them, right then, because MAN is the devil? This is a man whose eyes tell him there is no God, but whose heart begs for there to be one. He routinely gets in the way of his own understanding, doubting and refusing to make up his own mind. Despite evidence all around him.
The knight's squire is a man of no faith. He has come to terms with the violence of the world, and makes his own amusements. He is funny, artful, but just as casually cruel as the next man. He saves a woman from being raped in a stable, only to press her into service as his new wife, assuming that his own wife must already be dead. At the end of the film, when Death comes for the group of travelers, the knight prays loudly, while the squire shushes him, and tells him to be a man about it. The squire knows why Death is here, and accepts it.
The actors try desperately to keep art alive in a world being consumed by sickness and darkness. Jof, one of the actors, is able to see the supernatural: he sees a vision of Mother Mary, and later witnesses the knight playing chess with Death, even as his wife only sees the knight sitting alone. Unlike the knight, who becomes obsessed with a crisis of faith, Jof sees the supernatural, and despite the teasing of his wife and of those around him for his "silly visions," he keeps a good humor and a positive outlook. Indeed the movie ends with Jof, his wife, and their son on the shore, having fled the knight's traveling party, and, thus Death's later culling. Jof knew that the party was doomed, and got out of dodge. It should also be said that the knight distracts death long enough for Jof and his wife to escape the camp in their wagon.
All of the characters feel like warring factions of Bergman's own psyche. Watching The Seventh Seal feels like watching a conflicted man playing out his fears and concerns through his art. And THAT is really fascinating, as a viewer. What's even more interesting is that Bergman doesn't seem interested in judging these characters, or allowing any of them to "win." The knight's quest to overcome death is fruitless, but he is clever and heartfelt in the offing. The squire has found his own peace, but it comes at the expense of those around him. The smith is an idiot, but death comes for him anyway. The only hard message Bergman does stick to is that Death comes for us all. Some quickly, and some after a long life. Some fairly, and others, seemingly at random. Death is the biggest thing we all have in common.
- This movie is stuffed to the gills with philosophical dilemmas that everyone can relate to, no matter your language barrier.The knight struggles with a God he has always believed in, but now finds no solace in. He desperately wants to know that there is an afterlife before he dies. As if to retroactively justify the life of faith he's lived, even as he bears witness to the horrors of the world sprawled out before him. He has seen the plague, and seen the violence of the Crusades, and even watches as a young girl is burned at the stake by religious zealots. Before she is burned, he talks to her, sure that as consort of the devil, she will know answers about God. The knight asks to speak to the devil. The girl tells him to look into her eyes. That the devil is there. The knight sees only fear. But is it HIS fear he sees? Does he see his own reflection mirrored in her eyes? Does the girl mean that the devil is all around them, right then, because MAN is the devil? This is a man whose eyes tell him there is no God, but whose heart begs for there to be one. He routinely gets in the way of his own understanding, doubting and refusing to make up his own mind. Despite evidence all around him.
The knight's squire is a man of no faith. He has come to terms with the violence of the world, and makes his own amusements. He is funny, artful, but just as casually cruel as the next man. He saves a woman from being raped in a stable, only to press her into service as his new wife, assuming that his own wife must already be dead. At the end of the film, when Death comes for the group of travelers, the knight prays loudly, while the squire shushes him, and tells him to be a man about it. The squire knows why Death is here, and accepts it.
The actors try desperately to keep art alive in a world being consumed by sickness and darkness. Jof, one of the actors, is able to see the supernatural: he sees a vision of Mother Mary, and later witnesses the knight playing chess with Death, even as his wife only sees the knight sitting alone. Unlike the knight, who becomes obsessed with a crisis of faith, Jof sees the supernatural, and despite the teasing of his wife and of those around him for his "silly visions," he keeps a good humor and a positive outlook. Indeed the movie ends with Jof, his wife, and their son on the shore, having fled the knight's traveling party, and, thus Death's later culling. Jof knew that the party was doomed, and got out of dodge. It should also be said that the knight distracts death long enough for Jof and his wife to escape the camp in their wagon.
All of the characters feel like warring factions of Bergman's own psyche. Watching The Seventh Seal feels like watching a conflicted man playing out his fears and concerns through his art. And THAT is really fascinating, as a viewer. What's even more interesting is that Bergman doesn't seem interested in judging these characters, or allowing any of them to "win." The knight's quest to overcome death is fruitless, but he is clever and heartfelt in the offing. The squire has found his own peace, but it comes at the expense of those around him. The smith is an idiot, but death comes for him anyway. The only hard message Bergman does stick to is that Death comes for us all. Some quickly, and some after a long life. Some fairly, and others, seemingly at random. Death is the biggest thing we all have in common.
III. Gorgeous Visuals
The photography isn't showy, but the imagery is powerful. The image of death in a simple cape with a clownish white face is at once hilarious and terrifying, and Bengt Ekerot is game for all of it. Death takes the form of a trickster: he appears to the Knight as a priest and as a zealot, and he even appears in the forest to saw down a tree with a hiding actor in it. Ekerot is ethereal and primeval: his death has no secrets and knows no answers. He just does what he does: he comes for the living.
Bergman frequently allows the actors to do the heavy lifting, too: when the party finally sees Death, the shot is set up with their faces zig-zagging across the frame, horror and confoundment and acceptance, and even joy written on their faces. Everyone knows that Death is here, and everyone has a different reaction to that.
This movie is simply designed, and plainly presented, but the imagery is striking, and the film is imbued with a kind of life that most modern films lack. There is no amount of fancy CG explosions that can contend with the simple struggle of a man trying to outwit his own mortality over a game of chess.
Bergman frequently allows the actors to do the heavy lifting, too: when the party finally sees Death, the shot is set up with their faces zig-zagging across the frame, horror and confoundment and acceptance, and even joy written on their faces. Everyone knows that Death is here, and everyone has a different reaction to that.
This movie is simply designed, and plainly presented, but the imagery is striking, and the film is imbued with a kind of life that most modern films lack. There is no amount of fancy CG explosions that can contend with the simple struggle of a man trying to outwit his own mortality over a game of chess.
IV. Brief But Potent
You'd think a movie that I just described, with heady ideas and weighty philosophical issues would stretch the two hour mark, but Bergman turns in a lean 96 minute affair. It has heft, but it won't waste a second of your time. I respect that.
V. Playful
You could be forgiven for thinking this movie would be a dour affair, but it is quite funny. The dialogue is quick, and witty. There are ample scenes where Death likes like a Trickster, teasing and fooling the mortals around him. And Gunnar Bjornstrand is as funny as he is dangerous: he plays the Squire with a playful spirit, but a no-nonsense manner. All in all, I was surprised at how often I laughed out loud at something that was happening on screen. One can ponder the deepest depths of faith and doubt, and one can also laugh at it.
Why You Should See It
- Watch the movie, develop your hot take, and wow your friends and film school rejects at parties!
- It is a gorgeous piece of work that handles heady themes without being too pretentious.
- As heady as it is, the movie finds quite a bit of humor and playfulness to offset its weighty pontifications.
Why You Shouldn't See It
Miscellany
- Bergman talked about this film helping him deal with his overwhelming fear of death. It is also considered one of Bergman's own favorite films.- This movie was shot over 35 days on a budget of $150,000.
- The film has been parodied numerous times in pop culture: I mentioned the Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey reference at the start, but the wandering monks whacking themselves in the heads with wooden boards in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) was also inspired by this movie.
- Nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars in 1958.
- The final scene, where Death leads his collected souls dancing across the hills was improvised on the spot. Bergman saw an interesting cloud formation, and, because the actors had gone home for the day, outfitted various technical crew and passersby in costume for the sequence.
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