Although it has been relentlessly parodied as a pejorative example of an "art film," "The Seventh Seal" is a rowdy and rebellious debate about organized religion and militarism. Basing this effort on his own Beckett-inspired play, Ingmar Bergman turns the existential predicament on its head with a road-trip story set in medieval Europe. The enigmatic 28-year-old Max von Sydow plays Antonius Block, a knight returning from the Crusades with his noble squire Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand). Bubonic plague is killing millions across Europe. Sound familiar?
On a personal crusade to discover proof of the existence of either God or the Devil, Antonius makes a deal with Death himself (Bengt Ekerot) to postpone his demise long enough for to play a game of chess. If Antonius wins, he lives. Between chess moves Antonius and Jöns come into contact with such examples of religious extremism as a woman declared to be a witch waiting to be burned at the stake. Locals believe the waifish girl responsible for bringing the plague. She in turn embraces her fate and pretends to communicate with the Devil.
Inspired by mural characters on the church walls where his father worked as a clergyman, Bergman fleshes out each of his archetypal characters to fulfill their specific thematic demands. Raval, a former-priest-turned-thief who persuaded Antonius to join the Crusades ten years earlier, suffers a cruel and lasting punishment from Jöns, who does his own share of meeting out justice.
"The Seventh Seal" is staged with its theatrical origins intact. Bergman's embrace of contrasting social motifs allows for a range of archetypal symbols and ethics to collide. The film is first and foremost a rigorous example of social theater. A traveling trio of performers provides a thematic prism. Actor Joseph (Nils Poppe) and his adoring wife Mary (Bibi Anderson) raise their child in the face of a precariously dangerous world.
"I'm afraid of dying." "I don't want to die." That quote from a vile character dying from the plague sums up a primal truth that is parsed with poetic beauty. Jöns tells a cuckolded husband, "If everything is imperfect in this imperfect world, love is perfect in its perfect imperfection." In the same breath he also calls love "the blackest of all plagues" that would contain some pleasure "if you could die of it."
Not Rated. 96 mins.
