With obsessions of what lies beyond the grave, and how we as a people should come together in solitude, rather than disparity and disgrace, director Ingmar Bergman once more muses on leading our lives of temptation in Winter Light. Providing some clear influence for First Reformed, this classic brings us a pastor, worn down by the community he looks to guide. Their faith diminished as their lack of joy spills into the teachings they sit through, all the while Bergman looks on, composing a film of superb beauty, and real, exceptional brilliance. It feels like a step back to the days where the church was at the core of smaller communities, the period feels stricken with private grief, but the putting on of a strong, public façade, is shown rather frequently in this one.
When priests were seen as figures of hope that individuals could confide in, when they were at the core of small-town affairs, that is when they held the power. Stress, pressure, and the overwhelming care presented here by Bergman shows a man of God conflicted not just by those around him, but the turmoil in himself. There’s beauty in the shot composition, the extreme close-ups that capture the vivid emotion on the faces of Sydow and leading man Gunnar Björnstrand. The lapse in faith and judgment comes from being unable to help others, and Björnstrand captures this with such fiery intensity. A performance that puts him at the centre of conflict, yet distant in mind as he battles with his faith against temptations of sin, lust, and personal greed.
It isn’t just Pastor Tomas Ericcson (Björnstrand) that suffers, though, it’s his flock of church-going, too. Their lack of belief in themselves or their hardships applies pressure to a man honouring his sacraments. As expected from Bergman, everyone toils in suffering beyond their control, unable to move or carry on with life thanks to grief-stricken woes, unfulfilled lives, and generally repressive lives that offer little reward for the hard work set for these people. There’s always a beauty in capturing the misery, but it also brings a stark reminder to those watching, that, without passion, there is only misery, and there is little comfort to be found.
The opening moments of Winter Light feel, if anything, rather safe and welcoming, however much unity they showcase, there’s still an icy nature to them. They’re most certainly cold assumptions of life, Bergman takes an approach similar to that of his other works. All the expected components of a Bergman classic make their appearance. Coming to terms and understanding death, Max von Sydow, black and white cinematography, Winter Light shows no signs of change for one of the most influential and thematically fascinating directors to have ever graced film. Change isn’t necessary when our director and his cast have so much to say on one subject, and here, Bergman’s message appears to be finding your faith in times that couldn’t get any bleaker.
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