Winter Light Review

I have mentioned in previous reviews for films that delved into religious themes that such things aren't of importance to my life, yet I find them fascinating when explored in cinema. I rarely will choose to enter a place of worship during my own free time, yet when one is the setting of a movie I am often times in awe of the imagery and envious of the power that comes with a strong belief in a God. During the first act of Ingmar Bergman's Winter Light, we see a handful of people in attendance of a church service and I was instantly sucked into their world, as if I was sitting in a nearby pew. The thing is, I can't recall what was actually said during this sequence. I'm not even sure if I absorbed the words while I was screening the film, but it didn't matter. I couldn't take my eyes off of the faces of the people listening to the sermon, as their reactions to the message, whether a subtle feeling of regret lingering behind their expressions or a not so subtle pain flooding rapidly to the surface, were far more captivating and cinematic than the message itself.

While the narrative of Winter Light obviously revolves around religion, I actually found that the story centers far more on the nature of humanity, the people that occupy our living world rather than the higher spiritual realm they strive to understand for comfort. Tomas (Gunnar Bjornstrand) is the Pastor of the church, a position that has him literally standing in front of and above the congregation as he delivers the message of a lord, a savior, and yet rarely throughout the film does he actually speak. When he does, his words aren't powerful or meaningful or influential, quite the opposite actually. No matter what Tomas says, it doesn't bring comfort to others nor himself.

Jonas (Max Von Sydow) is a troubled soul, a man who has reached a breaking point in life, haunted by the idea of a literal nuclear holocaust. He and his wife reach out to Tomas for help, for words of guidance and comfort that could perhaps alleviate his fears and bring a sense of normalcy back to their lives, but how could a Pastor who feels no connection to God himself, a man who believes he has failed with his chosen path through life, assist in straightening out the soul of another?

Winter Light is one of those pictures that I find is impossible to pick up on every nuance or peel back every thematic layer with only one viewing. For example, there is a particular scene that I keep playing back in my mind since I finished the film early this morning in which Tomas and a man named Algot (Allan Edwall) are having a discussion about the suffering of Christ and the fact that Algot believes the emphasis being on the physical pain Jesus felt is misguided. Algot points to the fact that after being betrayed, Christ cried out to a father, a God that had suddenly become silent at a time when he needed him most. While not literally comparable in importance, is this perhaps also the case for Tomas as well? Throughout the film it is made evident that he is under the weather, clearly experience physical discomfort, and the focus on his suffering resolves around the loss of his wife years earlier.

Perhaps the real reason Tomas suffers, the real source of his deeper pain, is that beneath the surface he is crying out for a god that is silent. I have no knowledge of what Bergman himself believed in or whether or not religion played a role in his life, but Winter Light feels like a deeply personal work, a narrative that came from both the heart as well as an endlessly creative mind.

Perhaps Ingmar Bergman was in search of a silent god.



4.5/5

Force Majeure Review

Whenever I hear about people who make crucial split second decisions, whether the result ends up being a heroic act or one of cowardice, I can't help but wonder what I would do if faced with the very same circumstances. It's easy to say I would do the right thing and decide to protect my loved ones rather than selfishly worry about my own safety, and deep down I do believe I would value their lives over my own, but how can I be sure? Unless actually faced with that scenario, as I am staring tragedy in the eyes and have to decide what to do without having a chance to think, how could I possibly know how I would react?

Force Majeure, a film from Sweden which was a surprising omission from the Best Foreign Language Film category this year, uses this concept and then looks at the ramifications of such a decision. A photogenic and seemingly happy family are on vacation skiing the French Alps when at lunch one day they are admiring a controlled avalanche nearby, except it quickly feels far less controlled than it should be. As the snow rushes in their direction, panic begins to kick in and with practically no time to think a decision through, Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke), the father of the family, grabs his cell phone and runs away rather than make an attempt to protect his wife and children.

As you can imagine, this doesn't go over well with them after the avalanche poses no real danger after all, and the remainder of the film analyzes the way a marriage crumbles after such a moment and also the concept of masculinity and gender roles as a whole in society. Force Majeure is labeled as a comedy by some but I found it to be far more dramatic with some humorous sequences to break up the tension, and my goodness is there tension. My favorite sequence in the film takes place after a friend of Tomas joins them on their trip with his much younger girlfriend and Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli), Tomas' wife, decides to bring up the topic of his abandoning his children in such a situation. Even though I was well aware that I was witnessing a fictional movie, it all felt so real and powerful and uncomfortable to the point that I was squirming in my seat hoping for some relief.

Force Majeure isn't a comfortable, fun cinematic experience, but it doesn't mean to be. Director Ruben Ostlund knows exactly what he is doing throughout, as every frame feels calculated and precise to ratchet up the tension and make the audience ponder what they would do, how they would react, and whether or not they could move on from such a ugly moment in their lives. The scene immediately after the one I highlighted above is of the friend, Mats (Kristofer Hivju) and his girlfriend as they are happy to leave that awkward scene behind, except now she is wondering: what would he do if the same thing happened to them? The fact that it is questioned causes a long, frustrating argument between the characters which feels so comical considering literally nothing occurred to actually cause it.

I feel like these two characters represent any couples that watch Force Majeure together. As soon as it's over they will remark how uncomfortable the marriage was in it, but in the back of her mind the wife will always wonder...would he react the same way?



4/5