FREE ON CINEGEEK.DE Ingmar Bergman - The Seventh Seal

A knight returns from the Crusades. He finds a church that is still open, even though the plague is raging all around him. He confesses. He speaks to a man with a frock about his indifference, which excludes him everywhere. He lives in a world full of spirits as a prisoner. He wants God to stretch out his hand and speak to him. He screams into the darkness, but there is no one there. The man in the frock turns around. It is death. Can anyone tell me a modern film that presents such pictures? Nobody. Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal has much more in common with a silent film than with modern cinema. A rugged, uncompromising film (some of you may find it ridiculous or outdated). Hardly anyone asks about the DVD in our video store. Bergman has gone out of fashion. The subject, the absence of God, interests no one. But I am addicted to Bergman. I watched all his films one after the other. And The Seventh Seal is not primarily about the absence of God. It's about our gossip. Our restlessness. Bergman, on the other hand, poses existential questions. In contrast to his films from the 60s he still asks these questions directly in the 50s and therefore I prefer The Seventh Seal. A straightforward Bergman movie like he wasn't supposed to do later. In most of his movies Bergman settles accounts with God. Who doesn't know the famous picture of the knight playing chess with death? The work ends with an equally famous picture: The macabre dance of death before the horizon. Once the knight (embodied by Max von Sydow) asks a girl about the devil, who must know whether God exists. "Look me in the eye"; the girl answers. She refers to the priest who could see him. She tells of it almost proudly. But the knight's squire discovers nothing but emptiness in the girl's eyes. There is nothing. So is there only death and God doesn't matter? Bergman's films deal with this spiritual search. They desperately seek answers to the big questions of life. With regrettable answers. But there is one thing in Bergman's work: love. It exists. Like a consolation.