The Seventh Seal (Det sjunde inseglet) [DVD]
Director : Ingmar Bergman
Screenplay : Ingmar Bergman (based on his play)
MPAA Rating : NR
Year of Release : 1957
Stars : Gunnar Björnstrand (Jöns), Bengt Ekerot (Death), Nils Poppe (Jof), Max von Sydow (Antonius Block), Bibi Andersson (Mia), Inga Gill (Lisa), Maud Hansson (Witch), Inga Landgré (Karin), Gunnel Lindblom (Girl), Bertil Anderberg (Raval), Anders Ek (The Monk), Åke Fridell (Blacksmith Plog), Gunnar Olsson (Church Painter), Erik Strandmark (Jonas Skat)
The Seventh Seal is, without doubt, the most iconic of Swedish master Ingmar Bergman’s canon of masterpieces, and it is also quite possibly one of the most powerful and memorable examples of late ’50s and early ’60s European art cinema, a film that, in so many ways, encapsulates the philosophical insight, visual creativity, and all-around artistic daring that made Hollywood cinema, despite its widescreen Technicolor images and multi-track stereo sound, seem so dull, stodgy, and safe. It had taken Bergman some time to arrive at this place--17 films, in fact, although he had already made his international mark with the romantic lark Smiles of a Summer Night in 1955. Nevertheless, The Seventh Seal fully announced his presence as a major international filmmaker, an artist who was capable of working a specific and arguably limited narrative (a medieval morality play) into something that was both intimate and epic, but, most importantly, universal.
The story, which was inspired by the medieval church frescoes by Albertus Pictor, takes place in 14th-century Sweden, and it opens with the return of a well-meaning, soul-searching knight named Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) and his carnal, earthly squire Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand). The film’s opening shots of a dramatically cloudy sky scored to Erik Nordgren’s intense choral music immediately establishes that there is more at stake in the story than just life and death: There are issues of eternal questioning and suffering and, to put it simply, the meaning of it all. After 10 wasted years in the Crusades, Antonius is in desperate need of answers, but all he finds on the rocky beach is Death (Bengt Ekerot), who has come to collect him. However, Antonious manages to buy time by convincing Death to play him in a game of chess, which stretches out over several interludes and allows Antonius to view firsthand the state of humanity in his native country, which is in a pit of despair as the black plague ravages the coastlines and threatens to move inland.
As Antonius and Jöns travel across the countryside, the encounter a number of characters who represent different aspects of humanity. Much of the story takes place in a small village that is threatened by the encroaching plague, which is driving the villagers to extremes of fear and paranoia. Bergman encapsulated this desolation most vividly in a scene in which a lighthearted theater performance is interrupted by a procession of despondent men and women who march through the village flagellating themselves and each other and dragging with them enormous wooden crosses as a sign of penance because they believe that the plague is a direct act of God meant to punish them. Bergman also captures the desperation that drives society to isolate and scapegoat others in an excruciating sequence in which a young girl (Maud Hansson) with a soft, childlike face is to be burned alive for witchcraft.
Yet, although its reputation is built on its stark depiction of death and decay and its generally austere mood (it is, after all, a film that Bergman said he made to confront his own fear of death), The Seventh Seal is not at all the dark slog it would seem to be. As Peter Cowie wrote in his original liner notes for the Criterion Collection laser disc, “At first glance, the film would appear insufferable. It is set in the Middle Ages at a time when the Plague was ravaging Europe, orthodox religion was locked in the battle with paganism and the disillusionment brought about by the Crusades, and it describes a Knight’s doomed attempt to forestall death. Yet nearly everyone who sees The Seventh Seal emerges stunned and thrilled by its visual splendors, and inspired by one or other of the major characters.”
What often gets lost in the surface memories of Bergman’s first true masterpiece is the wit and the comedy and the human warmth that gives context to all the violence and pain. Although it features Death as a literal character, The Seventh Seal is a film about life and the importance of human connection, a lesson that Antonious learns when he crosses paths with a traveling theater troupe led by a juggling musician named Jof (Nils Poppe) and his beautiful and dedicated wife Mia (Bibi Andersson). When thinking about the film, the images that first pop into the mind are usually the darkest: Antonious and Death playing chess against the backdrop of a sullen ocean, the aforementioned parade of self-flagellating monks, and the child-witch strung up to burn. Yet, the film’s most important sequence takes place on a sunny hillside and involves the sharing of a “humble meal” of wild strawberries and fresh milk, a moment of familial bliss and neighborly generosity that comes to define the true meaning of life for Antonius.
Similarly, the film is brimming with witty and meaningful exchanges among the characters, including a conversation between Jöns and a fresco painter (Gunnar Olsson) whose defense of his gory images might very well work as the ultimate defense of horror movies. Jöns also has an amusing, if somewhat mean-spirited, exchange about the nature of women with Plog (Åke Fridell), a dejected and anger-management-impaired blacksmith whose lusty wife (Inga Gill) has absconded with one of Jof’s actors (Bertil Erik Strandmark). In these sequences we can sense The Seven Seal’s origins on the stage (it was based on a one-act play Bergman wrote in the early ’50s), yet the film itself never feels in any way constrained, despite the fact that it was shot on a relatively tight budget over 35 days almost entirely on soundstages and a small backlot that Bergman and cinematographer Gunnar Fischer (with whom Bergman worked on 12 films) effectively use to create a sense of epic grandeur befitting the film’s intensive philosophical inquiries. The fact that The Seventh Seal still speaks with such power and clarity more than 50 years later is testament to both its artistic prowess and its fundamental humanity.
|The Seventh Seal Criterion Collection 2-Disc DVD Set|
|Distributor||The Criterion Collection|
|Release Date||June 16, 2009|
|VIDEO & AUDIO|
|Criterion’s initial DVD of The Seventh Seal, released in 1999, was one of their first offerings, and while the then-new transfer looked quite good at the time, a decade of improvements in digital transfer and restoration technologies has created room for improvement. Thus, this new, remastered high-definition transfer, which was made from the 35mm original cut negative, is a welcome replacement (although it continues Criterion’s irritating practice of windowboxing Academy aspect ratio films). The image is gorgeous in both its sharpness and detail, and the strong contrast for which the film was so revered at the time is truly stunning. Black levels are strong throughout, and the MTI Digital Restoration System has ensured a smooth, filmlike image that is virtually devoid of any signs of age or wear, which is simply amazing for a film than is more than half a century old. The original monaural soundtrack was mastered at 24-bit from a 35mm magnetic audio track and digitally restored, resulting in a clean, pleasant-sounding track. There is also an optional English-dubbed soundtrack included, but it is a pale version of the Swedish original, with the British voice actors sounding like they were recorded inside a well.|
|In addition to the luminous new transfer, Criterion has also added quite a few supplements to fill out this two-disc special edition. Held over from the original DVD is the exceptionally informative and lucid audio commentary by film scholar Peter Cowie, which was actually recorded back in 1986 for the original Criterion laser disc. The fact that Criterion has chosen to stick with this commentary that is now more than two decades old, rather than record a new one or even a second one to augment it, is testament to how good it is. Cowie does get to provide a brief video “Afterword,” in which he fills in some of the gaps in his commentary with information that was not known at the time (particularly how much of the film was shot on sets and backlots, rather than on location). On the first disc we also get an introduction to the film by Bergman, which was recorded in 2003 for Swedish television, a 17-minute archival audio interview with star Max von Sydow, the original theatrical trailer, and a tribute to Bergman’s films recorded by Woody Allen for Turner Classic Movies in 1998. The second disc contains “Bergman 101,” a 35-minute video in which Cowie traces Bergman’s entire career (it replaces Cowie’s text-based “illustrated filmography” of Ingmar Bergman that appeared on the 1999 DVD), and the entirety of Bergman Island (2006), an 83-minute documentary by journalist Marie Nyreröd. Composed almost entirely of candid interviews with Bergman at his home on Färo island, it provides a fascinating window into the great filmmaker’s life and career, and it’s not surprising that Criterion has issued it as a separate DVD, as well.|
Copyright ©2009 James Kendrick
Thoughts? E-mail James Kendrick
All images copyright © The Criterion Collection