An existentialist cinematic exposition about fatalism? A post-war re-evaluation of faith and nature? A dance with death in the Skandi traditions of Edvard Munch or Henrik Ibsen? Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal has been considered to be concerned with all these subjects since its release in 1958.
Here in the 21st Century, while many of those themes still resonate, there is another angle from which to regard the film; a new perspective that a 20th Century audience might not have been so familiar with.
The plot centres around a knight by the name of Antonius Block who has returned from the Crusades to discover his homeland is blighted by a plague. One might interpret that as a reflection of Second World War soldiers returning from the front having defeated the enemy only to be greeted with poverty and decay at home. Yet given Sweden remained neutral in the conflict, one wonders how solid that metaphor is.
Nevertheless, as Block reaches the shore, he encounters the intimidating and inscrutable figure that is Death. It becomes clear that the grim reaper has marked Block’s card but the latter strikes a deal with him that if he can outwit him, as symbolised by their game of chess on the beach, he might evade him. There is immediately a sense that Block is merely delaying the inevitable, especially as later he will encounter Death in disguise and unwittingly reveal his truer self to him thus giving him the advantage.
Therein lies another clue. Chess being the most complex of games, seemingly binary as the pieces are pushed across black and white squares. Block intends on seeing off his tormentor this way but the game proves to be too intricate to provide solace.
If one looks closer at Block, one gets the impression of a man fatigued by conflict and shaken in faith. It is detectable in his name. His first name Antonius reminds one of mighty heroic figures like Marc Antony or St Anthony “father of the monks” but the word Bloc conjures up far different imagery. It might be an allusion to blocking a chess move and therefore countering Death. Elsewhere it might reflect the mental impasse he has reached.
On one hand he could be perceived as an embattled Crusader symbolising the futility of war but, on the other, he could be suffering post-traumatic stress disorder where the hand of Death is firmly on his shoulder and he is ambivalent about shaking it off or even trying to.
That hand might as well be the proverbial black dog, that has long symbolised depression and anxiety. Block is glumly resigned to it as the film progresses, despite resisting the plague that many others succumb to.
What appears to be a struggle over religious faith for Block might actually be a battle for life and for meaning. His inadvertent confession to Death in his disguise mentions performing “one meaningful deed”. This man of war, supposedly fighting in the name of God in the Crusades has returned only to feel his life is moribund. As Death stalks him, his descent is emblematic of a man not only losing his faith but his life; a sense of purpose, joy and will. For are these not the very cornerstones of life whereas mental health issues block one from realising or embracing them? Is there a death of sorts in the very fact life has become meaningless?
Block envisages no long-term future with his brief escape from Death a despairing one, himself using the time to unsuccessfully find meaning in this purgatorial landscape.
Along the way Block meets a girl condemned to death for alleged witchcraft and hopes she might, given her supposed powers, provide wisdom to him but she is revealed to be insane; there are no answers to be had and therefore no salvation for Block. Death continues to goad him and, despite Block’s frantic attempt to disrupt their game of chess, there is no hiding for him.
Block’s undoubted early optimism that he might defy Death, which rapidly unravels after his confession, bears all the hallmarks of a person feeling that they are in control of their own personal situation. He tells the disguised Death that he has a strategy in their chess game which he will deploy to win it. Is this complacency with Block underestimating the bleak state of his own psyche? This lone wolf, used to war, action, self-preservation and survival, mis-judging vulnerability for valour? Not realising this new threat, this mental malaise, cannot be conquered with sword nor strategy?
In British society we are frequently reminded by health professionals that many so-called “alpha” males are in a mental health crisis as they cannot express how they are feeling or hide their woes because they are inclined to lead from the front and not betray any weaknesses. Hence the perception that they leave treating or addressing their conditions until matters have become somewhat severe or sinister. Likewise for Block.
Death might appear, in a biblical reading of the film, as an otherworldly and almighty presence, presumably satisfying the will of God. However, his demonstration of absolute control is reminiscent of a mental health condition, of anxiety or depression, taking over and asserting their dominance. The aforementioned black dog is inescapable and frequently bears its teeth to remind its prisoner of the fact.
This is underlined in the forest when Skat, who had been in a sexual liaison with the married Lisa, tries to escape being punished by her husband and friends by feigning suicide. They head off into the night as he climbs a tree only to find that Death has arrived to begin chopping it down thus killing Skat. Self-fulfilling prophecy or fatalistic? Or an acknowledgement that such an action like suicide must not be trifled with? It is yet another example of a gross miscalculation whereby the subject matter at hand is all too powerful and consuming to be dismissed or disposed of in a frivolous manner.
The Seventh Seal refers to the lines in the Book of Revelation “and when the Lamb had opened the Seventh Seal, there was silence in Heaven about the space of half an hour”. This is widely believed to be the silence of God yet here as mere mortals judge women for being witches and a plague is upon their lands, his silence is deafening to the extent one can only conclude he is absent altogether.
There is no higher being, just a madness of humankind’s design, constructed from its own flawed faculties and manifested in both body and mind. There is the “Revelation”.
Block seems at peace during the final scenes having been reunited with his wife and enjoying a last supper with many of the travellers he has encountered along the way. Is this the knight finally being reconciled with his parlous state? Or the acceptance of his fate?
Perhaps Antonius Block, during this moment of calm, feels he has achieved that “one meaningful deed” during this communion with his companions and his wife but whether he is fully conscious or is accepting of what Death has in store for him is not made clear.
This is what makes the final scene so stark, memorable and chilling. Block and his followers head up the hillside, one presumes towards the edge of a cliff, all joined by hand. There are seven in total as an allusion to the film’s title and one can only surmise they are in the thrall of Death.
That Block heads the group casts him in the role as leader having spread the contagion inhabiting his darker thoughts throughout. It’s a cautionary message that anxiety, the type of which Block has been suffering from for the majority of this tale, not only overwhelms but can be an affliction for others who come into contact with it. A mass neuroses has descended on the group, triggered or enabled by Block. It is telling that Death does not inhabit the screen at this point for whatever leads the seven to oblivion, as it has been all along, is invisible. Death, seen by very few if just Block all this time, might be a symbol of Block’s anxiety or he might be a wretched coping strategy deployed by Block.
Either way, the perils of mental health conditions are made clear at the close. Antonius Block, having sought deeper meaning in the wider world and questioned the higher order, has failed to confront his own demons and psychosis. It’s much easier, after all, to visualise your foe as an external enemy to be defeated rather than face the tougher reality that the problem might be internally wired.
Athon 