Monday, January 2, 2012

The Seventh Seal

I recently had the opportunity to see the 1957 Swedish film The Seventh Seal in theaters.  I jumped at the chance to see the film as I had heard great things about it, especially from my trusted friend El Lobo who has mentioned the movie a few times in his blog.  The Seventh Seal was written and directed by the acclaimed filmmaker Ingmar Bergman.  Truthfully, my knowledge of Bergman's career and life history is rather lacking.  The only previous movie I'd watched from the man was The Virgin Spring, and I gave that one a go simply because of its well-documented influence on the 1970's horror film The Last House on the Left.  But this was part of the reason I wanted to see The Seventh Seal, to broaden my knowledge and to experience a classic for the first time in a theatrical setting (rather than watching it alone on my grungy laptop screen, for example).

The Seventh Seal is in the medieval Europe during the plague, where the ever-present threat of sickness and death loom large.  The film begins with Death approaching a knight (played by Max von Sydow) on a shoreline.  Death has come to take the knight's life, but in a clever effort to delay his inevitable death, challenges Death to a game of chess.  Death agrees, choosing to play the black pieces ("It becomes me well", he says).  I loved the imagery of the hooded and robed figure of Death standing against the shore.  At the risk of sounding like a 15 year-old goth, I have always found personifications of death to be both incredibly interesting and appealing.  The representation of Death on display in The Seventh Seal appealed to me through its clean, iconic look as well as its playful characterization (the idea that Death would acquiesce to a game of chess with a mortal is innately intriguing).

The character of the knight, dubbed Antonius Block, is also an intriguing personality.  Disillusioned by the events around him, Block desperately wants to believe in a god, but is continuously frustrated by the lack of evidence supporting the existence of a higher power.  The knight's crisis of faith is well illustrated in the confessional scene in which Block laments, "What will become of us who want to believe, but cannot?  And what of those who neither will nor can believe?", to the figure of Death who Block mistakes for a priest.  The knight's struggles for certainty in his beliefs raise interesting questions about the nature of faith.

And it's easy for the audience to sympathize with Block's crisis of faith as the harsh realities of life during the Black Death leave many people vulnerable to manipulation.  This is hauntingly illustrated in the film during a scene in which a young girl, accused of causing the plague through her relationship with the devil, is burned at the stake.  Unable to face the up to their bleak reality, it is all too easy to displace one's problems onto a scapegoat.  But this is one of the things that makes the film's medieval setting so fascinating.  It is interesting to watch what happens to people's beliefs and convictions when disease and death become a major part of the reality of everyday life.

Thanks again to El Lobo for recommending The Seventh Seal.  I thoroughly enjoyed the film, and found that the images and themes presented in the story gave me plenty to mull over and think about for hours afterward.  I look forward to reading more about the film, and discovering more about the environment in which it was written, filmed, and released.

3 comments:

  1. I am so glad you enjoyed this film. I too love the personification of Death and remember reading somewhere whilst researching the film that his portrayal became the archetype for future Death characters.

    The film captures the Medieval world perfectly, even down to the chess game which figures in Mediæval art frequently. The last scene with the dance macabre is so good/deep too because it shows we all die.

    Do you think Block believed in the end? I am mixed about it. When I first saw it, I didnt think so, but when I recently rewatched it, I think his facial expression shows that although he had been conversing with Death when Death finally came to claim him, he "got it." Your take?

    I took the jongeleurs (sp?) as making a statement that simplicity in belief helps you to avoid the turbulence of crisis of faith. The husband sees the Madonna and does not question its authenticity. His simple belief and faithful trusting is rewarded by avoid a storm of uncertainty, literally during that storm scene and figuratively. How did you read those characters?

    The film is an allegorical masterpiece & I think it really captures the Catholic imagination well.

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  2. Hi Juan! I am flattered that you responded with such a long and thoughtful comment, so I'll try my best to respond to all your questions.

    I also read that this Death would inspire future death incarnations, very awesome. Yes after I watched this movie I looked online and found some of the "death playing chess" paintings. They were unintentionally cute, but very awesome nonetheless. I loved the dance macabre!!! What a fantastic image!

    "Do you think Block believed in the end?" - I'm not quite sure, and I think that it's left rather ambiguous(probably intentionally). I think he desperately wanted to believe (like the X-Files movie...), but I don't know if he ever arrived there. Maybe it's just my pessimism, but if I had to pick an answer I would guess that no, he didn't believe in the end, just from the simple fact that having him gain faith at the film's closure would seem to be letting him off the hook too easily. Does that make sense?

    "I took the jongeleurs (sp?) as making a statement that simplicity in belief helps you to avoid the turbulence of crisis of faith." - Yes, exactly! I saw the husband as possessing unquestioning faith. On the other end the squire character who travels with the knight seems to be on the other side of the spectrum, valuing his personal life experiences based on the concrete world around him rather than on faith in what he cannot see. To use a geeky reference, I see the squire as possessing the Han Solo viewpoint of, "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side". The knight is in the middle of this as he wants to posses unquestioning faith like the actor, but his actual viewpoints fall more in line with those of the squire.

    That's how I read the movie, for what it's worth. Thanks again for the insightful comment El Lobo!

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  3. Awesome X Files I Want to Believe reference! Never thought that shite movie could be used as such, so 10 points to thee!

    I actually agree with your assessment of the film's character's roles within the narrative. I like how you say Block didn't believe because it would've been the easy way out ("if you want it the most, there's no easy way out"-Celine). The jongeleur represents unquestioning faith, and his faith was rewarded by having the easiest time of it. On the opposite side, having the squire (which I love the Han Solo quote, btw) being strictly secular and atheistic gave him a sense of hopelessness/despair. I like how you "read" Block in terms of these two polar viewpoints.

    I like your take on it. I love deep films like this, that make you mull it over.

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