The first thing that struck me watching Winter Light was the precision of the filmmaking. It’s been awhile
since I’ve sat down with a Bergman, so my memory could be faulty, but I
remember The Seventh Seal, and Wild Strawberries¸ and even Persona (one of my absolute favorites)
feeling a bit frayed at the edges. Every edit and every shot in Winter Light seems precisely conceived.
The mise-en-scene speaks volumes. There
is no one as talented as Bergman at positioning actors within a frame for
effect. It is a much sparser film than the earlier ones often touted as his best,
and a much stronger one.
Austerity is fitting for a film about God’s silence. Bergman
observes its effects primarily in the tortured faces of his players. During the
opening scene in the church, I was consistently drawn to that of Ingrid Thulin.
I fell in love with her as Tomas sits down to read her letter. Bergman wrenches
every ounce of expression out of her face as he films her staring directly into
the camera, sans glasses, reciting her words in a single take. A similarly
powerful choice later in the film stages a scene fraught with emotional torment in front of a raging river, the
roaring rapids drowning out the dialogue.
Bergman makes no claims as to whether God’s silence is a
choice on the deity’s part or a result of his or her nonexistence. He merely
asks that we all, believers and nonbelievers alike, question the courage of our
convictions. It’s the uncertainty that troubles Marta in her atheism and Tomas and
Jonas in their Christianity. Algot, the sexton, makes the astute observation
that the doubt Jesus suffered on the cross, along with the departure of his
disciples, must have been inifinitely more harrowing than the physical pain he
suffered. He is the only character in the film who has bears the courage of his
convictions, having taken Jesus’s directive to express himself with love to
heart, and he’s all the better for it.
In Swedish the film’s title translate to “The Communicants.”
It bears a double meaning. The opening scene features the films cast accepting
communion, but these are characters incapable of articulating their feelings to
one another. Algot said when Jesus’s disciples deserted him it must have been
painful, realizing none of them had truly understood the things he had said. So
it is for Tomas, whose attempt to empathize with Jonas only serves to hasten
his demise, who unconscionably excoriates Marta, a woman he clearly cares
deeply for. And also for Marta, who insists she is incapable of putting her
love for Tomas into words. If only we knew how to communicate better, perhaps
the pain of existence would be less acute.
