The Seventh Seal

The other Bergman film which has really moved me is, of course his eternal classic “The Seventh Seal”…I talk about it in one of my assignments …here is an excerpt…

When I sit down to write this assignment after having sampled the work of both Bergman and Tarkovsky, I can’t help but put my feelings in words… While Tarkovsky’s films are characterized by what I call “meditative plodding”, Bergman's films are tighter - he is able to more effectively advance his own doubts and speculations to a dramatic end - and also, his body of work more diverse. Bergman's films are disturbing, funny, eerie, tragic, and always well-paced, no matter how introspective the subject matter.
The Seventh Seal is the first film that comes to ones mind (at least mine) when one talks about his effective way of giving a resolution to dramatic tension.
Towards the end of the film, after the storm has blown over and Joff and his family are shown to have survived it, Joff is witness to the eerie dance of death-one of the best…no probably the best silhouette shot I have ever seen- and he doesn’t seem to be horrified or shocked by it, on the contrary, he obviously is mesmerized by it.
And that is the true resolution of the film for me, the same visionary Joff who was so intimidated by Deaths presenc’e, that he had to escape the group (one could also attribute this decision to his good sense), seems to be the ideal audience of this dance…for he has learnt the most valuable lesson of his life, that death is a perpetually around but the gift given to mankind is his ability to live as though he is immortal.
Joff and Mia (one can’t help but draw parallels with Joseph and Mary) are the quintessential survivors; because they are blessed with the innocence of a well rounded domestic life…they will form communities. But the Squire and the Knight are the peripheral figures: they can never be a part of communities, because they have been tainted by knowledge…which is why the scene where Mia offers him strawberry and milk, is so poignant, the Knight who is initially reluctant to accept, eventually gives in to the warmth of the domestic scene, only to realize that Death and a game of chess is waiting for him.
The Knight, in The Seventh Seal, seems to me more of a Tarkovskian character, because he seems to be philosophizing as much as the director…many a times in the movie one feels that , the Knight has reached his philosophical limit and can now only gaze into the unknown…
The Squire, who is as much of a thinker as the Knight, seems to be less challenged (probably because he does not have death hovering over his shoulder), he is someone who seems to think without philosophizing…
Bergman like Tarkovsky, produces brilliant visual metaphors, but unlike Tarkovsky they are not self generating, they are conscious and cryptically are so…the dance of death metaphor in The Seventh Seal is a recurrent one, through frescos and other little pointers, Bergman leads us to the climactic spectacle.
His other, more obvious visual metaphors, like death playing chess, are more subjective…to me it means that life is like a game of chess where everything is leading to one inevitable resolution, death…
One might wonder why am I copy pasting my assignments in my blog …well firstly because I want to talk about these things(don’t roll ur eyes I really do) and secondly and more importantly coz I have been giving my blog link to my interviewers…impression ka sawaal hai…

After a particularly bitter argument with my mother today, I sought solace in a Bergman movie (not a very good idea as anyone who has seen anything by Bergman will tell you)…the film I chose to watch was, not very surprisingly, Autumn Sonata…now before I go on to discuss the movie I need to give a background, in other words a detailed account of my love affair with European Cinema ( regulars will remember the almost rejected Tarkovsky assignment…sigh , who am I kidding there are no regulars)…In my last semester as a MA student I had taken a course on European cinema in which in between dozing off in a comfortable air conditioned room and being told off for bunking classes I had managed to catch a few life changing films (ok am not very comfortable with this sentence, but u get the point right?)…a diary of Bergman films was to be maintained as an assignment , but I did not include Autumn Sonata in it , mainly because of two reasons, firstly I wanted to discuss other movies more urgently and secondly(is there any such word as secondly??? Ummm …whateva) secondly…I cant for the life of me remember the second reason…ok lets not digress here…the point being, I didn’t get to discuss Autumn Sonata in my assignment so I have tried to discuss it here , in my blog…Jesus!!! I used to take pride in being comprehensive and concise…higher education na….
Autumn Sonata, happened to be my first Bergman film in colour, and what struck me was his generous use of it.
For a director who had used Black & White with such resolute understatement, he sure did go overboard with colour, or so I felt.
Autumn, is, I presume, a season of violent colours in Europe…the over ripened atmosphere which is waiting to be muted by the dullness of winter, dazzles before it flickers out…
And so is the story of Eva and Charlotte, their relationship is at the last leg of alienation, but yet there are so many things which have been left unsaid…
Bergman is relentlessly despairing in this chamber drama about a daughter and her love story with her mother. Hs worlds were characterized by a sense of hope in his earlier film; in Autumn Sonata he creates a world of unspoken guilt and incredible tension.
And the colours seem to add to the tension…when Charlotte walks in a resplendent red dress, and is automatically contrasted with the drab Eva, one feels the confrontation coming…
The piano scene, where ingrid and Liv ullman react to each others interludes, is a very important one, because Bergman is one of the few directors who can make his actors live their roles, the gamut of emotions that their faces register says volumes about their troubled relationship…
Though Bergman does not give his characters the place or the liberty of “inner breathing” that Tarkovsky does, he ironically manages to flesh out more poignant characters.
Music in Autumn Sonata is an inseparable element of the story…Chopins interludes are used to the best possible effect, rightly encompassing in its folds the pain and the violence of the relationships that we see crumble in the screen.
Strangely even the most uplifting interludes which are in a warped way, in harmony with the visuals, fail to rescue us from the feeling of gloom that envelopes us along with the characters.
Helenas character is introduced as a trigger by Bergman but she ends up being more, for she in her heart has nurtured a love which will make her a survivor. Charlotte who refuses to see things as they are has to gaze at her own reflection in the train to finally surrender to her fate.
Eva will continue to live a life of denial, for she has been denied what she has wanted most in life, love.
Autumn Sonata left me wondering, why should we be subjected to such despair in the grabs of such deceptive beauty…

Have been home exactly for 96 hours now…and haven’t unpacked yet…not only because I was busy doing things I had to do, but probably because home is no longer home now…stifling kolkata heat remains the same and so does my mothers need to control each and every aspect of my life and yet I am not home…
Does that mean I was more at home in Hyderabad, amongst likeminded ppl??? Not necessarily…for there was an intense need to escape that set up too…
(yaa I know this is dangerously turning out to be one of those angst ridden self introspective pieces so lets shift gear)…
what am I sayin …am home and am happy…yay…I guess…: (
umm…here is the lyrics of the song I have been listnin to in loop for the last 4 days…its dido and am sure half of the world knows all about her…but then the other half is just getting to discover her…indulge us…

Sand in my shoes

Two weeks away feels like the whole world should have changed
but I'm home now and things still look the sameI think I'll leave it till tomorrow to unpack, try to forget for one more night that I'm back in my flat
on the road where the cars never stop going through the night
to a life where I can't watch the sunset, I don't have time, I don't have time
I've still got sand in my shoes and I can't shake the thought of you
I should get on, forget you but why would I want to
I know we said goodbye, anything else would've been confused
but I want to see you againtomorrow's back to work and down to sanity
should run a bath and then clear up the mess I made before I left here
try to remind myself that I was happy here before I knew that I could get on a plane and fly away
from the road where the cars never stop going through the night
to a life where I can watch the sunset and take my time, take all our time
I've still got sand in my shoes and I can't shake the thought of you
I should get on forget you but why would I want to
I know we said goodbye, anything else would've been confused
but I want to see you again
two weeks away, all it takes, to change and turn me around I've fallen
I walked away, and never said, that I wanted to see you again...

Remains of a life…
As I scrape down the last shirt off my wardrobe(for that’s how I pack), It dawns upon me that this probably the last time I will see the insides of this room…smell myself in it…
And as I look out of the window to wipe away a tear (yes I indulge in a lot of drama…) I see the clothesline where I used to hang my frantically washed clothes twice a day ( for am an obsessive washer)…
We tend to sentimentalise everything don’t we...sigh…
The comp which connected me to u all now has to be safely cushioned in its cardboard box so that it can withstand (along with me) a 27 hour long journey across the Andhra Coast, Orissa and then rain swept, lush Bengal…
And then of course there are the remains…little things that I can’t bring myself to discard…a bunch of 10 downing street coasters (which a giggling Ug and I flicked from the hallowed pub, what I, a teetotaler was doin in a pub is a different question altogether)…
Catalogues of various art exhibitions we visited for our incredibly lame Modern Indian Art course…stupid withdrawn magazines from the British council library that I never read but took just coz they were for free (I mean why would I ever read Science today…)
Brochures of plays that I went to…gift wrappers which I always neatly fold and keep under my mattress…Film Club posters which I so passionately made (what a fool I was to think that they will ever be appreciated)…
things that I will not need…
For they are the remains of a life I am leaving behind…
p.s.the pic is that of a sunset as viewed from our terrace...it was captured by the myriad minded "myriadmind"...

Solan said...hummm Shyamalee said... hi.. so nice reflection. I too feel Happiness is something to be found... not to be searched myriadmind said... hey ...that rhymed so nicelyAjay said... Pehla Nasha is d best . Immortal :) Anonymous said... earlier it looked like you could only bullshit…you have variety too reality check said..hey anonymous! don't you dare trouble serend.. beas hyphasis said... beautiful! Comment Deleted uglygirl said...hullo!!! miss you!!come back quickL>T said... That's all well & good, but what is the name of the movie? arunima said... Accha, is this a sketch of a court room proceedings during the days of the Raj? the white man and the moslem , gave me this impression. and ur description was wonderfuly graphic. the fool on the hill said...
look in the sky..its a bird, its a plane, a ballistic missile....aiiiiieeeeeee...no, no, its Loverboy to the rescue!he's here to save serendipiduous. weep not, child. weep not. muaaaaaaah

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