After Ingmar Bergman’s death in 2007, he was re-evaluated within the cinematic community, most infamously in Jonathan Rosenbaum’s “Scenes From an Overrated Career,” the title of which pretty much says it all. There emerged a feeling that while the works of other art-house heros — e.g., Truffaut, Kurosawa and Fellini — have maintained their status, Bergman has faded into near irrelevancy. It didn’t help that he had the bad luck to die on the exact same day as Michaelangelo Antonioni, one of those arthouse gods who supposedly has maintained his relevancy, and it went even worse for the Swede than it might have.
Many of the criticisms leveled at Bergman have a basis in fact: nobody would say he was the most subtle of directors. He painted with a broad brush, and used symbolism that was so heavy it was always in danger of sinking from its own weight. But I maintain that he nevertheless was a true original, a potent combination of Swedish moroseness, mordant humor, and technical and literary brilliance. Bergman’s films — even the minor ones like The Serpent’s Egg (the subject of a past TOERIFC outing) — were unique. Although they have been heavily imitated, nothing looks like a Bergman film, nor have many films tackled existential themes with such depth and clarity.
And if you wanted a film to introduce those qualities to a Bergman neophyte, you couldn’t choose a better one than The Seventh Seal. In fact, that’s just what I did with Criterion’s superb Blu-ray reissue: I viewed it with my son-in-law, who’d never seen a Bergman film and, I’m happy to say, he liked it, despite my warnings that it might seem faintly ridiculous at times. After all, I explained, it is one of the most celebrated and, at the same time, lampooned, of arthouse films. Not many films have been analyzed as much as The Seventh Seal. It’s been prodded and poked with sticks sharp and not so sharp, and viciously and hilariously made fun of (my favorite is George Coe and Anthony Lover’s short De Düva, which you can see here).
So (over)analyzed has Seal been that for me to try and say anything new about it would be futile, so I won’t. I’ll just make a few observations.
1. It is surprisingly funny, an impression I had the first time I saw it, and which was only reinforced the second time around. Though not one of his comedies — yes, Bergman made those — it has a sharp, satirical bent that nicely offsets the sometimes-baroque, anguished exposition. Much of it arises from the bizarre activities of the various religious folks, and the squire Jöns’ (Gunnar Björnstrand) bemused reaction. In addition, humor comes from the banality of Death (Bengt Ekerot), who clearly knows no more about the afterlife than does the knight (Max von Sydow). Finally, the staging is in places very witty: a traveling minstrel show is rudely interrupted as a religious procession — complete with gory crucifixes, flagellating mendicants and hell-fire preachers – troops into town. As it assembles in the square in front of the makeshift stage, it freezes into a dramatic tableau, hands held high like a road-show production of Hair, making abundantly clear Bergman’s dim view of such pageantry.
2. The film is remarkably beautiful, especially in the restored version on the new Criterion DVD and Blu-ray Discs. The black and white cinematography by Gunnar Fischer, three years before his celebrated collaboration with Sven Nyquist began, is rich, detailed and dramatically lit. It seems to be almost of an organic piece with P.A. Lundgren’s production design and Manne Lindholm’s costume design; together they it enable Bergman to create a believable Medieval world.
3. Bergman’s direction shows both filmic and stage sensibilities. It is well known that the director’s heart was in the theater; he shot movies in the short, Scandinavian Summers and produced plays all Winter and Spring. Within The Seventh Seal, some scenes — the farce in the forest revolving around the blacksmith’s wife comes to mind — seem stagebound, while others, such as the religious procession and the villagers’ reaction to it, are very cinematic. He didn’t move the camera much — static establishing shots are a Bergman marker — and so when he did, in a fluid crane-up or tracking shot, it had greater dramatic impact. Finally, nobody used the 4:3 frame with as consummate skill as he, with the possible exception of Akira Kurosawa. But while Kurosawa abandoned his intimate compositions with the advent of anamorphic wide screen, Bergman never did, even when he went to the modest 1.66:1 European ratio.
4. What a dullard is Antonius Block. Constant existential whining does not a likable character make. I understand this was the big breakthrough role for Max von Sydow, and he does look anguished and noble at the same time, but please. Of course, he’s a stand-in for one side of Bergman’s character — to see more of this side, all you have to do is watch his other 
movies, and you’ll see the raging-at-a-God-who-isn’t-there bit a lot.
Bergman’s other side? Perhaps Jöns, the self-contained doubter, the man who advocates killing women — jokingly, of course — rather than putting up with them. After he forces a kiss from a woman he finds in an abandoned village, he tells her she is lucky, because before he would have raped her.
5. What a fabulous, gorgeous actress is Bibi Andersson. She embues the fresh-faced Mia with an amazing sweetness, underlain by a blithe toughness necessary for life as a traveling player. Watching her bits of business with Nils Poppe, who plays her husband Jof, I can understand Bergman having an affair with her. But then again, he had one with all his actresses, as far as I can tell. The old goat.
8. The final “dance of death” didn’t seem as silly as I remember it, or as laughable as it is often portrayed in various parodies. The emphasis isn’t on the dance, but on Mia and Jof, who have been spared Death by the actions of Antonius Block. As Jof — who is given to visions — sees Death leading the others away, he shrugs his shoulders and turns to Mia. After all, things of the afterlife have very little bearing on the here and now.
It seems to me that Mia and Jof represent a happy medium between the swooning, self-flagellating religiosity of the knight and Jöns brutal cynicism and self-regard. Perhaps they represent where Bergman wishes he could stand: comfortably aware of the divine, able like Jof to feel it’s presence, but nevertheless living his life to the hilt, unworried and unconcerned.
The Criterion re-issue is gorgeous, and chock-full of extras. I have the Blu-ray edition, but of course, the DVD is the same restored print. If you don’t have this in your library, get thee to your favorite video-store and buy it. It will never look better than this.
RSS 2.0
While the Seventh Seal has yet to totally enthrall me, I did recently catch up on some Bergman films (Hour of the Wolf and Wild Strawberries) and loved them. My own feelings about Bergman’s work are mixed, but I still need to see many of the director’s more celebrated films. Hour of the Wolf and Wild Strawberries really impressed me though.
I think Bergman suffered from a minor critical backlash after his death because there was so much attention on him. News stations like CNN, MSNBC, etc. spotlighted his death and work as did many newspapers, while they basically ignored Antonioni’s passing. Even in the Bay Area where I live Bergman’s death encouraged local theaters to have mini Bergman film festivals, but Antonioni didn’t receive the same attention. In turn some critics started to launch attacks on Bergman, which weren’t helped by Bergman’s own criticisms of Antonioni during his lifetime. It was a complicated turn of events, but I think they’ve worked themselves out over time and Bergman’s reputation is strong. Stronger than Antonioni’s I’d argue.
Yeah, I’m not totally enthralled by The Seventh Seal either. I have yet to see Hour of the Wolf, though I TIVO’d it when it was on TCM a while back; I didn’t care too much for Wild Strawberries when I saw it.
Antonioni is less accessible than Bergman,despite all the latter’s mordant and sometimes (over)weighted style. I personally like Bergman much better, myself. I am especially fond of Cries and Whispers and Fanny and Alexander, and especially the mini-series version of the latter.
I watched the Bergman films on TCM as well. I had planned on sitting through Cries and Whispers that evening as well, but that would have been too much Bergman for me to absorb in one evening.
Antonioni is one of my favorite directors so I’m a bit biased in his favor. I suspect that’s why I kind of understood the backlash that Bergman’s reputation suffered after both director’s died. I suspect that in years to come the films of both men will long out live any critical assessment of their worth.
Anyway, I appreciated your review of the new Criterion disc because I’ve been curious about it and Bergman’s been on my mind a lot lately. I may revisit The Seventh Seal again soon. I’ve seen the film two or three times before but that was many years ago.
Thanks, Kimberly. Cries and Whispers is often more than enough Bergman for anybody, even on its own. It is his most intense picture, I think.
I think you’re right about the reps of Bergman and Antonioni living on.
Check out Seal, see if it’s grown on you. It did me.
Rick -
I’m thrilled that you mentioned De Duva which I saw on PBS as a kid, even before I ever saw any actual Bergman. Unfortunately, thanks to bothDe Duva and Love and Death , I have a hard time taking seriously the Bergman films I’ve seen since. I’m working on it, though. I saw part of “The Seventh Seal” recently on TCM, and both you review and Andrew O’Hehir’s review of the new DVD release have made me really want to go back and see the whole thing.
Pat, de Duva was apparently an arthouse staple in the 60s, often playing as a short before a Bergman film. (you can see it again in the link in the post).
As huge a Woody fan as you are, I’m a little surprised you’re not a Bergman fan. As I’m sure you know, Woody is such a fan himself, and considers Bergman one of his mentors.
I personally love Bergman, warts and all. Like Allen himself, his films are flawed, but filled with character. Bergman’s psyche is so out there on display, if you get to know his films you develop a fond forbearance for some of his more egregious eccentricities. Or at least, I did.
Very nice review, Rick. Yes, Death is kind of a dope, when you come right down to it, but that fits. If Death were more intelligent s/he’d know who to take first, before they do any real damage.
I feel about the same way toward Antonioni as I do about Bergman. Both made great films and lesser works. But Antonioni’s critique of modernity has lost some of its force, whereas Bergman dealing with family and spiritual issues makes him a bit more timeless.
Death is a dolt, all right … I know Bergman wanted it to be chilling when Death tells Block that he doesn’t know what’s after death, but I just said “figures.”
That’s why I like Bergman … the spiritual stuff is right up my alley.
In my carefully considered opinion Bergman is the greatest filmmaker in the history of the cinema, so I kinda take with a grain of salt any criticism aimed at devaluing his transcendence. It’s similar to have issues with Mozart’s Carinet Concerto, Da Vinci’s MONA LISA, Shakespeare’s MAC BETH, Hugo’s LES MISERABLES and Van Gogh’s STARRY NIGHT. I appreciated your numerical consideration of this timeless film (I completely agree with Marilyn’s use of that word, and I will now embark on my insane list-making embellishment:
My Top 10 Bergman films:
1 Persona
2. Cries and Whispers
3. Fanny and Alexander
4. Wild Strawberries
5. Sawdust and Tinsel
6. Winter Light
7. The Silence
8. The Seventh Seal
9. Summer Interlude
10 Smiles of a Summer Night/The Virgin Spring
But one will surely find near-greatness in THE MAGICIAN, THE PASSION OF ANNA, HOUR OF THE WOLF, SCENES OF A MARRIAGE, THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY, SHAME and AUTUMN SONATA, as well as a few others.
I agree there is some intentional or unintentional humor in THE SEVENTH SEAL.
For me, Bresson, Dreyer, Chaplin, Ozu, Renoir, Mizoguchi, Welles, Kieslowski, Ford, Fellini, De Sica, Murnau, Gance, Lubitsch, Capra, Keaton, Tarkovsky, and Bunuel would be the main directors to challenge Bergman for the top spot. But what else is new? Ha!
For me, Bresson, Dreyer, Chaplin, Ozu, Renoir, Mizoguchi, Welles, Kieslowski, Ford, Fellini, De Sica, Murnau, Gance, Lubitsch, Capra, Keaton, Tarkovsky, and Bunuel would be the main directors to challenge Bergman for the top spot. But what else is new? Ha!
What, indeed?
And you are a mean, list-making machine, Sam. I love Bergman too. He’s my favorite director on Tuesdays and half of Wednesdays.
I think the humor was entirely intentional, myself. But your mileage may vary.
I’d add Agnes Varda, Stanley Kubrick, and Fred Zinnemann to that list, Sam, and delete Capra and Keaton (too small an output). But then I don’t make lists.
Rick – I’ve actually seen a few other Bergman films, and I can definitely see the influence in Allen’s work, just from those few. (“The Passion of Anna” definitely influenced “Husbands and Wives” for example.) But mostly Woody ruined Bergman for me; when I finally got around to seeing “Persona,” I couldn’t stop giggling, thinking about the “Wheat…” scene at the end of “Love and Death.”
Marilyn and Sam: What? No love for Kurosawa? I watched Rashomon again the other night, and was blown away.
Pat, but they were such loving parodies, by a guy who obviously loved Bergman … too bad he ruined it for you. Write the wood-man and complain …
Hey, Rick, can’t remember everyone. That’s why I don’t make lists!
Nice write-up, Rick. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen The Seventh Seal. I think it was the first Bergman I saw, and I was far too young both in age and cinematic knowledge to really get it. I’m an on-the-fence Bergman fan, I guess – I love Persona and Smiles of a Summer Night to bits, but the two-thirds of the faith trilogy I’ve seen kinda left me cold. Though there was something I can’t describe about Winter Light that made me feel like I’d seen something hugely powerful but it slipped out of my grasp before I could really internalize it. If that makes any sense.
I’m definitely looking forward to revisiting Bergman often…I can feel that he’s one of those that’s only going to get more meaningful as I get older.
Thanks, Jandy. For some, it’s the archetypal Bergman, and the only one they ever see. I love “Smiles” but “Persona” not so much. However, I haven’t seen the Faith trilogy, though that’s about to be rectified: I just bought it for 60% off at Barnes & Noble’s Criterion sale.
And it does make sense about things on the peripheral of your comprehension about a movie. It happens to me from time to time. Usually it means I need to see it again!
Yeah, when The Seventh Seal comes on TV I usually tell people to watch it, but NOT to make it their only Bergman film. I think people would be better off starting with Smiles, actually. It’s kind of strange that Smiles and Persona are my favorites, actually – they’re so very different. I hope you’ll write about the Faith trilogy when you see it. I still need to see The Silence myself.
And yes, “peripheral of your comprehension” – that’s exactly right. Every time I come away from a film like that, it immediately goes onto my rewatch list.
“Smiles” and “Persona” are indeed very different … but I myself love both “Smiles” and “Cries and Whispers,” the latter of which was the first Bergman film I ever saw. Given it’s intensity, it’s a wonder I saw another. I have a friend who refuses to watch it again, even though he loves the movie and owns the Criterion disc.