The Seventh Seal
Ingmar Bergman’s classic period drama The Seventh Seal is a perfect example of soul-searching in cinema. The film is an allegory for the grim realities and fleeting absurdity of human existence, and how Bergman feels we can deal with the human condition.
We meet medieval knight Antonius Block and his squire, Jons, as they return to their native Sweden after a decade abroad fighting in the crusades. Their homeland has been ravaged by the black plague and death seems to be everywhere, prompting the two men to examine the meaning of their long journey and their own mortality. The knight and squire serve as interesting foils for one another, setting the stage for the philosophical themes of the film. Block is an introspective agnostic who wants to believe in God and tries to find hope and meaning in his existence - but finds it difficult. “Is it so terribly inconceivable to comprehend God with one’s senses?” he says, “Why does he hide in a cloud of half-promises and unseen miracles?”. Jons, on the other hand, is a bitterly nihilistic pragmatist. He resents his present course of life, saying “Our crusade was such madness only a real idealist could have thought it up”. Block tries to hold on to the concept of meaning to life, while Jons consistently challenges him that there is no such meaning. Towards the end of the film, while they are watching a young woman accused of being a witch burned at the stake, the two weary men have their most revealing confrontation:
Jons: Who do you think will save her? There is nothing up there with her. No god or devil up there with her, there is nothing.
Block: No! It can’t be so!
This basic conflict of “Life has meaning” vs. “Life has no meaning” is a key concept of the existentialist philosophy that dominates the film.
If the film has an antagonist, it is death itself - literally personified. The cloaked “grim reaper” appears before Block in the film’s first scene. With the first spoken words of the film, Bergman fully explains how he feels about the human condition in a piece of powerful dialogue:
Block: Who are you?
Death: I am death.
Block: Have you come for me?
Death: Long have I walked at your side.
With this cryptic response, the personified Death points out that human beings are all governed by his swift hand, and that we live with the questionable gift of knowing that death is inevitable. Wishing to prolong his life a little longer in order to find answers to his aching questions, Block challenges Death to a game of chess to decide his fate. An iconic, potent, and poetic image, this chess match is symbolic of the fleeting nature of human life - we all are playing a chess game with death, we all try to avoid defeat, but death always wins.
Along the way, we meet Jof and Mia - a bright young acting couple, Jonas - their egotistical troupe director, Plog - a hot-headed blacksmith, Liza - his unfaithful wife, Raval - a bullying thief, and an unnamed peasant girl who takes a liking to the squire Jons. These remarkably different personalities join together with Block and Jons - united by only one thing - they all fear the black plague. Death stalks them all throughout the film as an ever-present specter that hangs over the characters. The manner in which Death claims the actor Jonas provides a bit of comedy, highlighting Bergman’s penchant for the absurd:
Jonas: Don’t you offer a special dispensation for actors?
Death: No.
Jonas: But I have a performance to give!
Death: It’s cancelled, due to the death of the actor.
Jonas: But my contract!
Death: It’s void.
Cementing the existentialist concept that death is the only absolute thing about life, the film ends with Jof telling his wife Mia [they are the only two surviving characters] that he has seen a grim vision in the distance. He sees Death leading a marching procession, carrying an hourglass. All of the other characters follow behind him in a line, holding hands in a “dance of death“. This image - possibly the film’s most iconic - drives home the point that all human beings are united only by their eventual, inevitable fate. “The strict master guides them all”, says Jof, “bidding them to dance”.
Despite the film’s bleak tone and content [even for a Bergman film], it enjoys a wide exposure as one of the most famous European films. This proves that even a deeply philosophical film can resonate with audiences - if it is executed right. All things considered, though, the film offers no real answers - only questions. In the end, Antonius Block’s thirst for knowledge goes unquenched:
Death: I have won. Soon I will come for you.
Block: And you will reveal your secrets to me?
Death: I have no secrets to reveal.
Block: Then you know nothing?
Death: I am unknowing.
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