Bergman in '57
Saturday, July 4, 2020 at 8:00PM 
Ingmar Bergman is my favorite filmmaker of all-time. That being said, I'm aware of the difficult reputation his cinema has earned over the decades. As Nick Taylor wrote in his fabulous piece about Harriet Andersson, few directors have so masterfully captured the overwhelming pain of unhappiness as Ingmar Bergman did. In his films, God is either dead or a giant stony-faced spider, a monster intent on causing suffering to everyone, making for a cinematic cosmos where agony is the most universal experience of all. It's heavy stuff which justly earns the fame of depressing art, though I'd argue that there's more to Bergman's cinema than constant unbearable ache.
Just look at his 1957 masterpieces, The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries…
The Seventh Seal is one of Ingmar Bergman's most famous, most acclaimed, and influential pictures. The scandalous Summer with Monika and the sexual hijinks of Smiles of a Summer Night had done a lot to boost the director's fame outside his country, but it was this plague-ridden tale that truly made the director into one of the most internationally revered auteurs of the mid-20th century. Watching the film, it's easy to understand why, since, from its very first scene, The Seventh Seal shines with unforgettable imagery and heady concepts that entice the imagination and speak directly to some of Humanity's greatest anxieties.
It starts with Antonius Block, a Scandinavian knight, coming back to his homeland after having fought in the Crusades. Upon this return, Block finds a nation plagued by the Black Death, an environment suffocating with decay where he comes face to face with the embodiment of that which awaits us all. Block meets Death itself, a human-shaped specter who the knight challenges for a game of chess. Supposedly, he's trying to win his right to live, but the desperate Block has more on his mind than mere survival. Facing the end, he wishes to know if there's something more to life, if God exists and Heaven and Hell are real. Talking to Death, the man tries to assuage his faith, to find meaning in all the suffering that represents earthly existence.
The Seventh Seal is mostly known for this strange negotiation between Block and Death, but there's more to it than its iconic game of chess. Throughout their journey, the knight and his squire come face to face with a Sweden gone mad with pestilence, where innocent women are accused of copulating with Satan and burned at the stake, and parades of religious fanatics whip themselves bloody in hope of salvation. As their trip continues their entourage grows, coming to include a troupe of traveling actors, a smith and his adulterous wife, a beautiful maid saved from rape, and the knight's waiting wife. It's a peculiar collection of people, a tapestry of contrasting humanity, all of them united by their persistent wish to live.
Considering such heady topics and the perpetual threat of annihilation, it's shocking to realize how The Seventh Seal avoids solemnity. I'd go as far as to say that the film is as much a comedy as it is a tragedy, a farce as much as a Philosophical meditation on the mysteries of Life and Death. Saying that serious films are comedies is a clichéd bit of cinephile pretension, but I genuinely think that The Seventh Seal is funnier than people give it credit for. Death, in particular, is a deceptively humorous character, always taking the piss of the dour knight with its devilish ploys, tricks, and unwavering inevitability. Watching Death casually saw a tree where a lothario jester has hidden is genuinely hilarious because of how nonchalant the Grim Reaper is. The humans in the story may fear Death like the most ignoble of monsters, but the way Bergman and actor Beng Ekerot portray it is far from monstrous.
If that weren't enough, The Seventh Seal is obsessed with contrasting its existential terror with the folly and pleasures of living. During one of the film's most famous scenes, a procession of self-flagellating penitents interrupts a comedic performance put on by the acting troupe, facing off two ways of battling the anguish of existence during the plague. While the whipping men chose to define their lives by self-torture, seeing their suffering as the only way to appease Godly wrath, the actors have chosen to entertain and to distract, celebrating life rather than succumbing to its agony. Bergman's cinema is hardly escapist fun, but one feels that the director is on the side of the entertainers instead of the religious zealots, making The Seventh Seal a plea for the appreciation of life rather than a mirthless screed on the matter of death.
Life is painful, but it's also beautiful, a miracle that's perfectly personified by two of the actor's adorable baby. That child is life and it's that loving family which closes the film. They stare at Death dancing away with the other characters and turn their backs on the frighteningly ridiculous show, moving on with their lives. For such a Philosophically dense picture, there's a lot of earnest simplicity, and even optimism, to be found in The Seventh Seal.
One can say the same about Bergman's other 1957 classic, Wild Strawberries. Like the first flick, it deals with mortality though not in the setting of Medieval Sweden. Instead, the latter film is a contemporary memory play about Isak Borg, a retired professor who, during a day that should be marked by professional jubilation, contemplates aging, corrosive guilt, the pleasures of the past that now only live in remembrance, the demons of regret and the nature of happiness itself.
For all the portentous symbolism in the early, heavy-handed, nightmare sequences where handless clocks and open coffins terrorize Isak, Wild Strawberries is one of Bergman's most accessible narratives. In its heart, it's a sentimental tale of life-affirmation, one that conjures the pain of loss and the ravages of time, but never tries to bludgeon the audience with misery. Quite the contrary, it's often eager to make the spectator laugh, whether with the ebullient energy of teenaged hitchhikers or the ridiculousness of a Scandinavian family's antics in flashback. Even at its cruelest, when autopsying the rotting carcass of unhappy matrimony, Wild Strawberries tries to find amusement in the horror without betraying its humanistic ideals.
It's a generous film in which the specter of Death is used to make the wonders of living shine brighter than they would in monotonal isolation. During one of the film's later scenes, Isak's daughter-in-law confronts her husband about her pregnancy and he righteously tells her about the absurdity of bringing new life into this wretched world. The pessimism of such words is searing, but their myopic despondence also comes off as ridiculous when rubbing off against the sweetness presented in other sections of the film. Bergman's films may be famous for embodying the despair expressed by Isak's son, but they don't close themselves off to the possibility that there may be something more to life than this. In the garden of pain, the flower of joy can bloom. It may be rare, but it's no less precious and its splendor can be enough to obfuscate the horror of the surroundings.
Wild Strawberries features representations of great pain, but it's not about that pain. It's similar to the way The Seventh Seal is dominated by Death, but it's also a comedy of life. Bergman's cinema rarely is about pain and agony, despite its reputation. It's a filmography dedicated to exploring what exists alongside that pain, the light that breaks through the shadow, the life that exists before Death and gives it meaning.
The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries are available to stream on the Criterion Channel, Kanopy, and HBO Max. You can also rent them from Amazon, Google Play, and Youtube, among others.
Reader Comments (10)
I read this frase in Kanye West voice and It was hillarious:
"Ingmar Bergman is my favorite filmmaker of all-time!!"
Alguém -- That was an unexpected comment, but it did make me laugh. Thanks.
I've been working on my Bergman knowledge the last few years and it's been mostly a positive experience-Fanny and Alexander was a rough go but otherwise even if I haven't loved the films they've been challenging and mostly rewarding watches.
I still have a way to go and it will take me some time. I only have the stamina to watch one of his works every now and then, they are too heavy for quick immersion at least for me. But I've seen everything that is considered his major work except The Virgin Spring and my favorite remains Wild Strawberries which is one of the first I saw. It has a sort of wistful nostalgia that is singular and Victor Sjostrom is extraordinary in the lead.
"The Seventh Seal" is indeed very funny. As are "A Lesson in Love," "Smiles of a Summer Night," the elevator scene in "Waiting Women," and the amusement park scene in "Dreams." Those are Bergman really showing his comedy chops and proving he can do much more than pensive dourness.
There's a great little documentary, BERGMAN - A YEAR IN A LIFE by Jane Mangusson, people should track down. It focuses on 1957. He presented three theatrical films (the third was BRINK OF LIFE), a television film, two blockbuster stage productions, a radio play... It was his "crazy year". Great article, Claudio. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3yuS2gS57s
Very good article, Bergman is one of my favorite directors and I think these two movies are excellent to watch at this moment, not only because of death, but also because it's so necesary to think about beyond ourselves.
I love both of these films dearly, and never skip a chance to introduce people to them. Bergman's understanding of human nature is second to none, and nearly all of his films are worthwhile viewing.
I trend to prefer his earlier b/w films; The Virgin Spring is a personal favorite. It's a hard film to watch, but I like it best of his many that are on the theme of God's silence. (I recently paired it in a film group discussion with the Coens' A Serious Man - another film about God's silence, but about as different as possible!)
I grew up in the sixties, when being a serious film buff meant knowing the films of Bergman, Kurosawa, Fellini, etc., It's been sad to watch Bergman fall out so far from the public mind, that, when he's recalled at all, it's for "depressing b/w films with heavy symbolism like that one with the chess game with death". There's so much more to Bergman!
About that incredible climactic shot of Isak Borg in Wild Strawberries, shown above. There was no special lighting used to achieve that beatific look, Sjostrom just somehow performed it! A remarkable film. (I recently watched Almodovar's Pain and Glory because it's been described as "his Wild Strawberries". Don't get me wrong, I love Almodovar... but it's not in the same league.)
Ahh, thank you for this lovely throwback, Claudio! My parents, especially my dad, are huge Bergman fans so I feel like I basically grew up with him. WILD STRAWBERRIES and FANNY AND ALEXANDER were my dad's favorites in his filmography, so it's not surprising they're mine, too, even if the dream sequences in the former totally terrified me as a kid. But it's the warmth in these movies - and THE SEVENTH SEAL, too - that makes them memorable, as you recognize.
(Side note: joel6, what made F&A rough for you?)
I've always felt Bergman had, basically, four periods: 1) early all over the place (1946-55). There are some lovely, amazing films in here: SUMMER INTERLUDE, SAWDUST AND TINSEL, SUMMER WITH MONIKA. 2) Canonical metaphysical (1955-1961), basically SMILES OF A SUMMER NIGHT to THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY. These are the ones most people think of. 3) Mature Modernism (1963-1970). These are my favorites. My God: WINTER LIGHT, THE SILENCE, PERSONA, HOUR OF THE WOLF, SHAME, PASSION OF ANNA, damn! 4) Psychology under a magnifying glass. 1971-1980. Only a couple here I actually like, mostly the underrated FROM THE LIFE OF THE MARIONETTES. Too many closeups of a sobbing Liv Ullmann filmed in not-so-great Eastman color (SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE, FACE TO FACE, AUTUMN SONATA--all kind of exhausting). Then, of course, the big, beautiful epilogue: FANNY AND ALEXANDER. I'm always encouraging people who gravitate to phase 2 or phase 4 to give 1 and 3 more attention. Many stunning experiences to be had there.
I have always saw Bergman's masterpieces as a long discussion of the great "monsters" we can't control of our life
Seventh Seal - Death
Wild Strawberries - Time
Persona - Our True Nature
Cries and whispers - Indifference
Autumn Sonata - Personal Fulfilment
Fanny and Alexander - Memories
Scenes of a Marriage - Relationship