This was my third viewing of Victor Sjöström’s Love’s Crucible (aka Vem Dömer?), and there is more to see
each time.
I watched the film in Pordenone last year and at the
Giornate last month saw Körkarlen (The Phantom Carriage) (1921) another
Sjöström film which may or may not have an overtly religious message: it was
interesting to compare the two. Vem
Dömer? is best translated as Who can
judge? and, as with Körkarlen, it’s
not simply about the gift of religious redemption; it’s more personal. As with
the director’s Ingmarssönerna (1919)
– featuring an actual stairway to heaven – and Körkarlen (1921) featuring a carriage driven by a phantom – this is
a supernatural story rooted in very human faith, responsibility and the process
of coming to terms with yourself.
Jenny Hasselqvist’s character Ursula has caused her older
husband’s heart failure even though she doesn’t realise it at first: she has
hated him throughout their arranged marriage and longs to be with her younger
sweetheart, Bertram (Gösta Ekman). The marriage had been arranged by Bertram’s
father, The Mayor (Tore Svennberg) and Ursula’s intended, Master Anton (Ivan
Hedqvist) a sculptor considerably older than his intended. Their wedding takes
place amongst civic joy – a lovely shot of the bride passing through a hall
full of flowers - whilst Bertram looks on in misery as Ursula’s life seems to
end.
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| Gösta Ekman and Jenny Hasselqvist |
Anton sculpts a statue of Ursula as the Virgin Mary as she
poses exhausted on a pedestal… which is exactly where he has put her. Anton worships her but she can only
reciprocate with hatred for lost opportunities their bond has cost her and yet,
whilst Anton chip-chips away, she finds freedom reading in their garden where
she is joined by Bertram. Ursula’s desperation is on the rise and the visit of
a friar selling herbs and remedies (Waldemar Wohlström) provides her with a way
out: she will buy some rat poison and
commit suicide with Bertram.
The Friar overhearing the young lover’s desperation, swaps
harmless powder for the poison before inadvertently exposing their secret to
Anton in the inn where he drinks. In a rage the artist flies home to confront
Ursula, who momentarily gets the opportunity to use the “poison” to work a
different solution to her troubles…
This sets up a dynamic conclusion that the actress responds
to operatically but convincingly; the film has a feel of a folk story more than
a character-driven thriller especially when an angry mob cry “burn the witch!”
and quickly arm themselves with flaming torches. It’s superstition versus human
reasoning and love versus self-loathing, all very twentieth century concerns
and home turf for Sjöström and Hasselqvist.
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| Ivan Hedqvist |
The film is blessed with sublime visuals from
cinematographer Julius Jaenzon who seems to delight in capturing the, if-not-impossible
then the certainly ill-advised. Time and again we see actors filmed with bright
light on their shoulders and yet with their faces clearly in view or an image
drenched more in shadow than light: he captures extraordinary action in
realistic ways and none of this is more in evidence than in Ursula’s fire walk at
the end which stands as a tour de force of silent cinematic art.
Victor Sjöström’s direction is emphatic and economic as he
keeps the focus on character above costume. The wonderfully expressive set
designs of Axis Esbensen and Alexander Bakó are perfectly aligned from the
unforgiving cathedral to Ursula’s little garden of romantic solace and
Jaenzon’s cinematography captures every dark moment and flutter of joy. The
acting is also superb and Sjöström
always seems to get the most out of his performers: takes one to know one.
Chief amongst these is, of
course, Jenny Hasselqvist who is, for me, pound-for-pound one of the best
performers of the silent era in this and every other film I’ve seen her in:
Stiller’s Gosta Berling (1924), Johan (1921) and Balettprimadonnan (1916), Lubitsch’s Sumurun,
Sjöström’s Eld Ombord (1923) and even in less impressive fare such as Erich Waschneck’s Brennende Grenze (1927).
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| Jenny on a pedestal and crucified by guilt... |
Hasselqvist’s pantomime is so deliberately physical from a forlorn looseness at her
opening prayers in the shadows of the cathedral, to the love-lightness of her
scenes with Bertram and the heavy-hanging misery of her sterile posing for
Anton’s statue. Once the accusations fly she stands tall in defiance and after
the contortions of recrimination her final brave steps towards redemption are
taken with head held high resolution: she holds
herself so well with a prima ballerina’s posture.
She also has an uncanny ability to hold the camera’s gaze
whilst emoting with equal grace; her natural style still stands and – as I
always say – reminds me of Isabelle Huppert. For details of her fan club,
contact me at the address below…
Jenny’s not
alone in making this narrative compelling there’s an impressively youthful Nils
Asther playing one of Anton’s assistants and Gorgeous Gösta Ekman gives a grand
account as Ursula’s lover, even if he’s never quite the centre of attention and is overshadowed by the film’s true star.
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| Julius Jaenzon photographs with so much shadow with faces haloed in sharp brightness |
Ivan Hedqvist is quite masterful – ahem - as Master Anton.
Hedqvist was multi-talented and I’d recently seen Dunungen (In Quest of Happiness) (1919) in which he starred, wrote
and directed... and here he is the perfect emotional mirror to Hasselqvist’s cool;
burning with creative love for his young wife and with his heart, quite
literally, at the limits.
Stephen Horne accompanied with passionate restrain, having
fun with many bells-a-tolling in the story as well as the old artist’s turn on
the mandolin in the tavern. He perfectly judged the lengthy crescendo of the
fire walk, adding his own subtleties of tension and style to Sjöström’s
measured cuts and Hasselqvist’s quiet intensity.
A trial by fire that revealed the truth and an audience
intent and eager to discuss – intimate and, yes, immersive cinema.
NFT 3 was sold out for this screening and you have to think
that there could be demand for more Scandinavian silents: Stiller and Sjöström directing,
Julius Jaenzon shooting, not to mention Jenny Hasselqvist acting and, if we’re
very lucky, dancing…
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