|
I have now watched this film twice. And I think it is safe to say that I see much more in it now than I did the first time. It is also safe to say that I like it less now than I did before. A great deal of the film�s philosophical complexities were lost on me the first time around. It is a very, very cynical film. There is no God; we are not even sure there is a Devil. All we know for sure is that there is Death. And a great deal of suffering, often of an inexplicable nature. Ingmar Bergman is certainly a capable director, and well equipped to extract nuanced performances from his cast. But there are few opportunities for it here. He is simply too intent on hammering home his message of destruction to make room for much more subtle material. But in spite of its skeptical view, there are one or two moments of real warmth in the film; particularly the ones that deal with the actor Jof, his wife Mia, and their son Mikael. Max von Sydow is also able to rise above the pessimism; his Antonius Block is a wonderful character. He struggles mightily over the question of God�s existence. And although we never get an explicit answer to this struggle, his actions at the end of the film certainly indicate that he has taken a position. Whether or not it is also Bergman�s position is difficult to say. But the most memorable aspect of this film has to be its visuals. They are simply stunning. The entire movie is shot in black and white, and there is an amazing starkness to it all. But despite its sparseness, there is great beauty as well. It�s an amazing balance, and one that Bergman carries off flawlessly. But that just serves as a reminder of the fact that he fails to achieve that same balance in the actual story of the film. The story is only stark, not beautiful; (with the one exception of Block�s decision, and I am unsure how much Bergman intended that.) I must watch it again sometime. It is very thought provoking, and I am sure there are many more intellectual levels yet to be discovered.
"I shall remember this moment: the silence, the twilight, the bowl of strawberries, the bowl of milk. Your faces in the evening light. Mikael asleep, Jof with his lyre. I shall try to remember our talk. I shall carry this memory carefully in my hands as if it were a bowl brimful of fresh milk. It will be a sign to me, and a great sufficiency." |
|
