Films: 1950s
(1958) The Seventh Seal
Friday, April 20, 2007
The Seventh Seal
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Release: 1958
In "The Seventh Seal," director Ingmar Bergman examines life in the shadow of death. In a setting where death lurks around every corner, Bergman looks at religion, philosophy, and art; asking the question of what it means to live.
The film opens with two important framing devices. In the titles, we are told the story takes place in 14th century Sweden, a "land ravaged by the Black Plague." Not long into the film, the protagonists discover a face that makes this horror concrete: empty eye sockets, rotten lips, and degenerated skin. Fear of the plague and its results dominates everyday life.
The other element at the center of the film is a game of chess played between the knight Antonius Block (Max Von Sydow) and Death (Bengt Ekerot).
Antonius plays for his life ("My flesh is afraid, but I am not"), while Death plays to do his job, which -- ironically enough -- is his life. The knight has been on a religious crusade with his squire (Gunnar Bjornstrand), but emerges with an even less clear perception of God and the purpose of his life. And so he plays chess, as he continues to search for "knowledge" of God.
The squire, Jons, plays the practical philosopher to Antonius's deep contemplator. An existential character, Jons pontificates on life ("His world exists only for himselfabsurd to all, even himself") and love ("the blackest of plagues"). He also delivers justice with a firm hand. After warning the despicable character who convinced the knight to enter the Crusades, the squire meets him again, in the act of humiliating a traveling actor. With a swift confirmation of his warning, he "brands" the knave with a knife in the face. Much more than a sidekick, squire Jons provides a subjective counterpoint to his knight's introspective quest.
In addition to questions of religion and philosophy that constantly spring up in "The Seventh Seal," Bergman looks at the role art plays in life, particularly in the face of death and the plague. When the traveling duo stay at an inn, the squire encounters a painter (Gunnar Olsson) working on a mural ("The Dance of Death") depicting the horrors of the plague: "They try to tear out the boilsthey bite their hands, scratch open their veins, scream in agony." They discuss art in terms of making people happy versus scaring them. The squire imagines scaring people will make them "fall into the arms of the priests;" the painter wants to paint life as it is. He goes on to describe people who lash each other to "please the Lord." The exchange between the squire and the painter encapsulates a larger argument about art in life, particularly controversial art. But the fear of death always lingers. As the painter says: "A man must live. At least until the plague takes him."
The knight and the squire eventually cross paths with a family of traveling artists — specifically, actors that sometimes perform serious drama, but more often engage in silly comedy routines. Joseph, the father of the family (Nils Poppe), says, "People here are not interested in art."
His comment proves correct when their routine is interrupted by an actual procession of people lashing each other to ward off the plague. The acting troupe's audience turns its attention to this performance about death. In addition to addressing the question of high art versus low art (how does a horrific painting relate to a comedy routine, for example), this scene makes a direct point about art in life. The painter truly does paint life as it is, but only because life, for these people, revolves around death.
When the death procession has passed, the squire asks, "Do they really expect modern people to take that drivel seriously?"
The modern people of 14th century Sweden certainly do in the film. But perhaps Bergman expects the viewing audience of 1958 to ask this question as well: are we so obsessed with moving toward death that it dominates our life?
Throughout the film, Antonius searches for meaning in the face of death, for knowledge of God, and perhaps for justification for his life believing in God ("To believe is to suffer"). When confronted with death himself, he prays to God.
Jons, on the other hand, seems to carry himself less in the shadow of God than in the spirit of everyday life itself. And he feels, despite his servitude to the knight, "to the very end, the triumph of being alive."
Joseph's life (as well as his family's) centers on his art. And when he has a vision of Death, he avoids it altogether. However tempting it is to interpret a message of Bergman's ideal way of living, at the very least, it is a clear warning against life lived in the wake of death.
Adam Balivet
Cinescare Correspondent
The Seventh Seal, 1958
But perhaps Bergman expects the viewing audience of 1958 to ask this question as well: are we so obsessed with moving toward death that it dominates our life?
