Sunday, October 14, 2007

The Seventh Seal

Last night as I settled down late in the evening to enjoy The Thin Man something terrible happened. It turns out the disc was broken and I would not be experiencing this movie. Truth be told I was a little heart broken. I'd been waiting all day for this. So I rushed out to the local Blockbuster and began looking for it, sadly they did not seem to have a copy. But I was there, nothing in collection at home was calling to me (I needed something new). But two friends recently gave me lists of films I should see and I luckily had both on me (and by luckily I mean I made sure I brought them on the crazy off chance that the rental place did not have the movie I was looking for). I ended up renting The Third Man, Secretary and The Seventh Seal.

I thought to myself, its 1030 at night, I can get two movies in before I go to bed. It turns out that was a miscalculation. I was able to get one movie in in that time because I really couldn't watch another movie after seeing Ingmar Bergman's film. If you've ever had one of those experiences where you think you know something, you think sure there may be a detail here or there which you haven't quite got figured out but more or less you know what you are talking about and then suddenly and magically your eyes are opened and you realize you don't know a damn thing, you don't even have half a grasp on what this thing is, then you'll understand why I just made this long rambling sentence.

This past week has been one of repeated shame. I had never seen Casablanca nor Chinatown and well I saw Once Upon A Time In The West so long ago I might as well have never seen it. And what better way to end a week of shame than with The Seventh Seal. When people say movies are an art form, its because of movies like this. The cinematography? unbelievable. The symbolism? fantastic. The writing? I've never heard some of my own thoughts echoed back to me in such an eloquent way. The acting? So much going on in every scene and at times you just have to watch the background actors instead of who is talking because its so telling.

Do I need to give a synopsis? Well for the sake of it I will. Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) has just returned from ten years fighting in the Crusades to his native Sweden. Europe is being decimated by the plague. As Antonius lies on a beautifully landscaped beach, Death appears as it is time. Antonius shrewdly challenges Death to a game of chess because while they play Death may not take him. Antonius is a lost soul, he is desperately searching for knowledge. The film follows him as he travels to his castle and meets with various people along the way all the while playing chess with Death.

Playing chess with Death, wandering along aimless, seeking Truth are all fairly obvious metaphors for the human condition but they are executed here so well. Max von Sydow utters his lines with such power and conviction, at times with a smile on his face that never reaches his eyes and at others with a grim demeanor that saddens you to your soul. And if anyone ever needed an argument that acting is in the person not the words, just watch him and don't read the subtitles.

I was in constant amazement of the shots and the score, my eyes drinking in everything, knowing I was missing ten things for every one I saw. Then came a scene in a church, the play of shadow and light just brilliant, where Antonius is praying at the altar and he sees who he thinks is a monk and goes over to confess. His outpouring of his crisis of faith is so powerful I pushed out of my seat and crawled closer to the screen to watch it. I can't help but quote his monologue:

"Is it so terribly inconceivable to comprehend God with one's senses? Why does he hide in a cloud of half-promises and unseen miracles? How can we believe in the faithful when we lack faith? What will happen to us who want to believe, but can not? What about those who neither want to nor can believe? Why can't I kill God in me? Why does He live on in me in a humiliating way - despite my wanting to evict Him from my heart? Why is He, despite all, a mocking reality I can't be rid of?" - Antonius Block

This is a man who desperately wants to believe. He has seen so much in the Crusades. A lesser movie would have shown some of that, here we get Antonius' anguished face as he pleads partly to the monk, partly to himself, partly to God to just finally give him an answer. The monk is not a monk at all but Death and Death pries him for information. Why does he play chess with Death. And just when you think the scene just can't end in any satisfying way after all that has transpired Antonius at the brink of despair looks at his hand and says "This is my hand. I can turn it. The blood is still running in it. The sun is still in the sky and the wind is blowing. And I... I, Antonius Block, play chess with Death." And I was exhausted.

And despite this phenomenal scene the film still goes on, still assaulting you with images and scenes including a procession of flagellators that was alluded to early on but somehow doesn't prepare you for it or a scene in a tavern where a truly wicked man stirs up trouble for an innocent young man named Jof. But if I was floored by the Church scene and thought it couldn't get any better or more profound I was wrong.

As Antonius sits on a hillside he looks up to see Mia and her son Mikael. Antonius joins her and they have a conversations at times pleasant at times profound like when he pronounces that he keeps the most boring company: himself. Jof, Mia's husband joins them as do Antonius' squire and the girl he has rescued and they all sit down to eat wild strawberries and fresh milk. Jof begins to play the lyre, while the rest are lost in their own reflective worlds, Mia and Antonius continue their conversation. And it dawns on Antonius that he has found a perfect moment, one which no one will ever take away from him and he utters out fantastically:

"I shall remember this moment: the silence, the twilight, the bowl of strawberries, the bowl of milk. Your faces in the evening light. Mikael asleep, Jof with his lyre. I shall try to remember our talk. I shall carry this memory carefully in my hands as if it were a bowl brimful of fresh milk. It will be a sign to me, and a great sufficiency."

And then he walks away with a look on his face I can't really describe with any justice and he looks off and I had to pause the movie. I just couldn't continue for a while. I poured myself a drink and I sort of wandered around my apartment for a while. I lied down on my bed and closed my eyes and just thought about what I had just seen. Eventually I got back up went back to my chair and started watching again. And the movie even after that still doesn't disappoint.

If you are curious about the two scenes I just described and why they are so vivid in my head its because they were just that good so good that after another break when the film ended, I had to go a rewatch those scenes. I know some don't approve of watching a film in tidbits but I often love to do so. And after I had done that I was so drained emotionally, so tired that I couldn't watch another movie if I wanted to and I didn't want to.

This film has that same vivid beauty and grace that I find in Thin Red Line. I've cut down on my movie buying these days but next paycheck, this is going to be on the list. I'll leave it with one of the opening lines:

Antonius: Who are you?
Death: I am Death.
Antonius: Have you come for me?
Death: I have long walked by your side.
Antonius: So I have noticed.
Death: Are you ready?
Antonius: My body is ready, but I am not.

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