And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.
1957 was a pivotal year for the career of Ingmar Bergman. In the space of a year he crafted not one, but two important pieces of cinema that gained him international recognition and propelled forward an amazing career that would influence generations of incredible filmmakers. Of the two films produced that year, The Seventh Seal is by far the more monumental, painting a beautiful, comedic and often horrifying existential portrait.
The Seventh Seal, like many of Bergman’s subsequent works, thematically concerns itself with the mortality of man and his relationship with a silent God. The film is quite possibly the most effective portrayal of these themes. Bergman’s direction is consistently stunning. Although most of the film’s cinematography is slow and mellow in nature, it still manages to convey a great emotional weight, particularly in the scene in which Block unknowingly confesses his insecurities to Death, obscured behind the bars of a confession booth. This emotional weight extends to the dialogue, which drips with profundity and extreme importance. Even with the rather overall grim tone, the film manages to be quite comedic without feeling as if it broke from the mold it established for itself. Even if a scene manages to be funny, the comedic nature of such sequences ties into Bergman’s grand artistic vision with a deep, poignant sense of irony. Under all the irony and despair however, lies a compelling existential vision: that life is fundamentally a series of equally valid paths into truth, with death as the only absolution. Though infallible in nature, it ultimately amounts to a hollow function, and failure to recognize this provokes blind faith that proves counter productive to progression through different paths and interpretations.
The performances in The Seventh Seal are simply put, incredible. Though he had and would feature in many other works from Ingmar Bergman, the director arguably never again drew such a compelling performance from Max von Sydow, who nails the conflicted and tormented nature of his character perfectly while still crafting a likeable protagonist. Gunnar Björnstrand, who would play major roles in some of the most important of Bergman’s works, such as Wild Strawberries and Winter Light, also gives a pitch perfect performance as Jöns. He remains one of the most compelling players in the story, cynical and bitter to an almost vulgar degree, but at the same time, is the inarguably the wisest character. Nils Poppe and Bergman regular Bibi Anderson deliver good, yet somewhat syrupy performances as is demanded by their over the top characterizations as the Holy Family-esque Jof and Mia. Regardless of how irritating they can be at times, the characters are essential to the film’s ultimate vision, representing the salvation of man through his consciousness. Inarguably, the film’s most iconic performance comes from Bengt Ekerot as Death himself, who gives a sinister performance with an effectively restrained level of creepiness. His iconic performance and scenes would be endlessly mimicked and mocked. Even today, characters like Anton Chigurh in the Coen Brothers’ masterpiece, No Country For Old Men recall the cold, calculating indestructible Death.
The Seventh Seal would bring Ingmar Bergman much deserved recognition worldwide. Critics and audiences discovered with this film Ingmar Bergman’s immense talent as a filmmaker, contributing to the development of prestigious filmmakers from Kubrick to Tarkovsky. Though Bergman would revisit several ideas established in this film several times over, The Seventh Seal establishes an existential vision unparalleled in its profundity and beauty.
1957 was a pivotal year for the career of Ingmar Bergman. In the space of a year he crafted not one, but two important pieces of cinema that gained him international recognition and propelled forward an amazing career that would influence generations of incredible filmmakers. Of the two films produced that year, The Seventh Seal is by far the more monumental, painting a beautiful, comedic and often horrifying existential portrait.
The Seventh Seal, like many of Bergman’s subsequent works, thematically concerns itself with the mortality of man and his relationship with a silent God. The film is quite possibly the most effective portrayal of these themes. Bergman’s direction is consistently stunning. Although most of the film’s cinematography is slow and mellow in nature, it still manages to convey a great emotional weight, particularly in the scene in which Block unknowingly confesses his insecurities to Death, obscured behind the bars of a confession booth. This emotional weight extends to the dialogue, which drips with profundity and extreme importance. Even with the rather overall grim tone, the film manages to be quite comedic without feeling as if it broke from the mold it established for itself. Even if a scene manages to be funny, the comedic nature of such sequences ties into Bergman’s grand artistic vision with a deep, poignant sense of irony. Under all the irony and despair however, lies a compelling existential vision: that life is fundamentally a series of equally valid paths into truth, with death as the only absolution. Though infallible in nature, it ultimately amounts to a hollow function, and failure to recognize this provokes blind faith that proves counter productive to progression through different paths and interpretations.
The performances in The Seventh Seal are simply put, incredible. Though he had and would feature in many other works from Ingmar Bergman, the director arguably never again drew such a compelling performance from Max von Sydow, who nails the conflicted and tormented nature of his character perfectly while still crafting a likeable protagonist. Gunnar Björnstrand, who would play major roles in some of the most important of Bergman’s works, such as Wild Strawberries and Winter Light, also gives a pitch perfect performance as Jöns. He remains one of the most compelling players in the story, cynical and bitter to an almost vulgar degree, but at the same time, is the inarguably the wisest character. Nils Poppe and Bergman regular Bibi Anderson deliver good, yet somewhat syrupy performances as is demanded by their over the top characterizations as the Holy Family-esque Jof and Mia. Regardless of how irritating they can be at times, the characters are essential to the film’s ultimate vision, representing the salvation of man through his consciousness. Inarguably, the film’s most iconic performance comes from Bengt Ekerot as Death himself, who gives a sinister performance with an effectively restrained level of creepiness. His iconic performance and scenes would be endlessly mimicked and mocked. Even today, characters like Anton Chigurh in the Coen Brothers’ masterpiece, No Country For Old Men recall the cold, calculating indestructible Death.
The Seventh Seal would bring Ingmar Bergman much deserved recognition worldwide. Critics and audiences discovered with this film Ingmar Bergman’s immense talent as a filmmaker, contributing to the development of prestigious filmmakers from Kubrick to Tarkovsky. Though Bergman would revisit several ideas established in this film several times over, The Seventh Seal establishes an existential vision unparalleled in its profundity and beauty.
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