Reflections
on “The Seventh Seal”
Written
and directed by Ingmar Bergman
Starring
Max Von Sydow, Gunnar Bjornstrand,
Bibi Andersson, Nils Poppe et al
Antonius Block is a
Swedish knight returning home from the Crusades with his faithful squire and
right-hand man, Jöns. We join them as they wake up on a rocky beach looking out
onto a vast expanse of water, and the personification of death arrives to take
Block but Block persuades Death to delay his mission while they play a game of
chess over the coming days.
We will follow Block as
he and Jöns continue their journey home and encounter a variety of people and
situations in the process, and we will be invited to reflect upon themes such
as faith, religious views and their impact on society, the effect of experience
and thought on belief, the nature of happiness and nothing less than what is
meaningful in life.
The opening scenes
involving Death and the game of life and death he plays with Block
(encapsulated by chess as it involves planning, challenge and purpose)
brilliantly set the framework, tone and purpose of the film.
In this concept film,
presented in a historical context to help clarify his themes, writer and
director Bergman presents his ideas through characters who are rich and
colourful enough to engage our interest but who exist principally to illustrate
the points he wishes to make.
Antonius Block has been
described as disillusioned and his squire Jöns as cynical, but I would suggest
they merit closer and more precise evaluation and even that these characters complement
one another to such an extent and are so intrinsically connected that together
they form one complete whole.
Briefly, Block represents
the spiritual and directional element of human understanding and experience
while Jöns tends to what is practical and physical.
When conversing with
Death, Block states his body is ready for death but he (meaning his spirit or
soul) is not. Essential to this spirituality is his belief in God, but Block has
started to question his faith. This is verbalised in later scenes, but this
issue is clear from the opening scenes on the beach when Block begins to pray
and we see that his eyes are open and he lowers his hands, indicating his
doubts, doubts that will have a devastating effect on his outlook on life.
Indeed, the rocky beach looking out onto a vast expanse of water may possibly
suggest they are on the border of what is known and unknown and perhaps
represents Block’s equally rocky mental state and anguish over the breach
between known experience and uncertain faith.
Jöns cannot really be
described as cynical as he is not self-interested and does not reject integrity
or humanity to pursue his own ends. He may be disillusioned and disappointed by
the conduct of some of his fellow men but he applies standards of humanity and
justice in his dealings with others, saving an apparently mute girl from rape
and stopping the humiliation and abuse of Jöf, an actor of whom we will hear
more shortly.
It is essential to note
that Jöns does not require biblical or ecclesiastical authority for his actions.
He applies a moral code based on humanity and common sense, but Block seeks
more. He seeks the reassurance and validation of a higher authority, that of
God, and the fact he has started to lose faith in God’s existence causes him
real existential angst.
There are several
passages in which Block (whose name, it is tempting to think, may be inspired
by so-called writer’s block, but applied to faith) vividly describes his
longing for a sign of God’s existence as perceived through his senses rather
than having to depend on promises and talk of miracles, a situation that
clearly pains him greatly. His entire outlook is built upon belief and he has
devoted years of his life, abandoning his beloved wife in the process, to a
cause whose whole validity he now questions. He desperately wants to believe
but experience has led to reflection and a loss of faith.
In the course of their
travels, Block and Jöns encounter a variety of people whose lives are
influenced to varying degrees by religious beliefs of the time, superstition,
ignorance and doubt. Block and Jöns will often react but on some occasions we,
the audience, are left to draw our own conclusions.
They meet a small group
of itinerant entertainers, Jöf, Mia, their toddler son Mikael and Jönas Skat
who appear light-hearted and relatively happy with their lot. Jöf and his small
family are unburdened by matters of commerce, society, doubt or guilt. They
simply offer their performance and move on, depending only on one another and
are happy with that. They are content, optimistic and relatively untainted by
issues, anxieties and problems faced by town dwellers whose outlook is soured
by fears of the plague, its effects on their livelihoods, and superstitions and
myths arising from the spread of the plague, potentially leading to the end of
the world.
We learn that this small
troupe of players has been hired by priests to play Death and the human spirit
at the upcoming All Saints Festival in order to frighten people and presumably
drive them toward the clergy. This contrasts somewhat with the relatively pure
and innocent outlook of Jöf and co. Jöf even has visions and we share one which
may suggest the simplicity and beauty of their religious stance – an idealised
view of the Virgin Mary walking with her toddler, Jesus.
Perhaps this quality of
purity appeals to the pious Block who will eventually invite Jöf and his family
to join him and Jöns on their journey to his estate. His encounter with them
and their simple and obvious love for one another causes him to think of his
beloved wife and the life they had together, a life he abandoned through faith
and a call to the Crusades, reasons he has come to regret. Perhaps seeing them
and their happiness together gives him hope for the future.
When Block and Jöns
arrive at a village, Block goes to a church and Jöns comes across a Dance of
Death, with graphic depictions of plague-related horrors, being painted on the
wall of a Hall, including one section of the mural depicting a group of people
indulging in self-flagellation in an attempt to apologise to and appease God in
view of man’s guilt and the assumption God sent the plague as a punishment.
The reason for these
awful images?
To remind people life is
short and once again to frighten them and drive them toward the clergy, but
also perhaps to encourage them to do something of value before their time is up.
Shortly afterward, just
such a group of self-flagellators passes through the town, to the visible
distress of the inhabitants and our troupe of actors. No comment is made or is
required as we recoil in horror at this extreme effect of contemporary
religious thought and we are more or less invited to ask ourselves if this
really could be God’s will and what purpose their pain is truly serving,
especially if Block’s doubts are correct and God does not exist…
This spectacle has little
effect on Jöns who appears to regard this as just another story or religious
interpretation among the many he has seen and heard. Ever the pragmatic man,
Jöns seems keen to get on with life and attaches no great importance to
philosophy or religion.
While Jöns investigated
the Dance of Death, Block sought a church and makes his confession to a figure
he takes to be a priest. This scene is essential to our understanding of Block,
his issues and his spiritual pain.
He confirms his spiritual
obsession and disillusion, describing his indifference to his fellow man (a
quality overtaken by Jöns, perhaps), his desire to believe in God and his
overwhelming desire to gain knowledge of God through his senses rather than
depend on nebulous faith, half-promises and perceived miracles. This question
has come to govern his life and he goes so far as to suggest that without God’s
existence, life is nothing but a preposterous horror filled with nothingness,
and that God may only be an idol built around our fear of nothingness. Clearly,
he fears his time on Earth may have served no good purpose.
Upon realising he has
made his confession to Death, who remains keen to fulfil his stated mission,
Block asks for a respite so he may try to produce at least one meaningful act
before he leaves…
On leaving the church,
Block encounters a girl in stocks who is condemned to be burned at the stake
for consorting with the Devil, the consequence of fear, ignorance, assumption
and resultant superstition of the time. Block is keen to speak to her as, having
failed to make progress with God, he seeks answers from one who apparently has
knowledge of the Devil.
Eventually, after a
further encounter with the girl when she is about to be burned, Block will come
to the conclusion the Devil is a figment of imagination, confirming and
redoubling his anxiety about life and its meaning.
At one point, Jöns seeks
fresh water in a hamlet and comes across an unscrupulous chap who steals from
corpses and is about to rape a girl, advising her not to bother screaming as
there is no-one and no God to hear her. Jöns recognises the man as Raval, a
former monk who persuaded Block to pursue his honourable mission to the Holy
Land. However, Raval has clearly not just lost faith in God but has lost all
sense of morality and common decency as a result. He has become a common thief
and a villain.
Jöns saves the girl and
threatens Raval, displaying a code of honour and decency based on humanity and
showing he is not necessarily dependent on God or his existence for direction
and validation.
Interestingly, Jöns makes
advances toward the girl but accepts her rejection, suggesting that in any case
he is tired of mere physical love which he finds dry and perhaps lacking. Jöns,
rather like Block, is apparently seeking something of greater depth and perhaps
more spiritual.
Jöns goes on to apply a
form of moral blackmail, suggesting the girl owes him her life and should
accompany him as his housekeeper, an offer she reluctantly accepts and which
perhaps illustrates the spirit of feudal servitude and personal bondage which
appertained in medieval times.
In a tavern, we meet
several townsfolk whose conversation and anxieties reflect attitudes and
thought of the time. They discuss the practical effects of the plague on their
businesses and mix this with dubious religious views and superstition, all
augmenting fear and apprehension, and encouraging them to reach false
conclusions due to ignorance and a desire to understand and find a solution.
In this atmosphere of
fear and insecurity, Raval tries to sell a bracelet he stole from a corpse to
Jöf and eventually stirs trouble for him, inciting the gathered group to
humiliate Jöf and perhaps do him real harm.
In a tactic used
elsewhere in history, Raval attempts to deflect attention from himself onto an
innocent outsider and his efforts are well received by the crowd who may regard
this situation as a means of relieving their own anxiety and forgetting their
own problems and pain by promoting pain and problems for others.
This pack mentality,
initiated and led by the villainous Raval, is brought to an abrupt halt by the
arrival of Jöns who applies his standard of humanity and fairness and marks
Raval as a villain, as he warned he would do if he saw him again…
As they make their way
through the woods, using his visionary gift, Jöf manages to see Block playing
chess with Death and leaves the group quite furtively with Mia and little
Mikael while Block distracts Death’s attention. Block has thus fulfilled his
desire to complete a meaningful act before his own death.
It would seem then, that,
in the face of a Godless and meaningless existence, substance and meaning are
lent to life if one does something to help others.
Accepting the
inevitability of his fate, Block asks Death to reveal his secrets and knowledge,
upon which Death replies, perhaps a little puzzled, that he has no secrets and
he is unknowing. There is no knowledge or understanding to impart.
Once in his home and when
Death comes to collect Block and his entourage, Block persists, in desperation,
in asking God for mercy while realist Jöns points out there is no-one to hear
him. In the face of imminent death, the supposedly mute girl aided by Jöns
wears an enigmatic little smile and utters, almost in relief, “It is finished.”
Perhaps she feels her feudal life of servitude was not worth continuing and
this contrasts markedly with the final shots of Jöf and Mia whose optimism and
appreciation of life are due in no small part to their shared love and apparent
freedom from social anxiety, superstition, overthinking and the creation of
issues and problems that need not exist, perhaps.
I have to confess I
approached this film with considerable apprehension. I have had the DVD in my
collection for some years but I resisted watching it as I thought of it as an
arthouse film whose symbolism and metaphor would be beyond me, but to my great
surprise I found the film quite accessible and I would thoroughly recommend it.
I found the direction and
intelligent, literate script richly thought-provoking and rewarding, while the
performances were uniformly engaging and at times touching.
My thanks for taking the
time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.
Stuart Fernie
