Saturday 25 April 2020

Victor and Selma go filmmaking... The Lass from the Stormy Croft (1917)


Apparently, it was after seeing Victor Sjöström's Terje Vigen that Swedish Nobel literature winning novelist Selma Lagerlöf decided to sign a deal allowing A-B Svenska Biografteatern the rights to adapt her films, with the studio committing to one a year. She had previously resisted any cinematic adaptations but saw in Sjöström a man with a similar vision of life and landscape as well as someone who would respect the authorial intent of his source literature. She wanted him to do for her what he had done for Henrik Ibsen and to not sensationalise the moral issues at the heart of her work.

As Aleksander Kwiatkowski wrote in Swedish Film Classics (1983), “… Sjöström's adaptations remained completely faithful to the original works as well as the environments he was constructing,” aiming, as Danish director Benjamin Christensen observed, to imitate “the very rhythm of life.” This was unlike Mauritz Stiller and, later, Gustaf Molander, who both had lighter agendas and more overtly populist entertainments to make. For them, sometimes, the Swedish landscape could be a background, whereas for Sjöström it was a character with its own contribution to human stories, so too with tradition and the nature of rural economies.

Lars Hanson and Hjalmar Selander face a reckoning
This film, more properly translated as The Girl from the Great Marsh (Tenant) Farm, shows that he and Selma Lagerlöf were on the same page right from the start even though the filmmaker did not follow the flashback format of the author’s story; which he also doesn’t do with Jerusalem. It was the first of A-B Svenska’s adaptations and stays as close to her tone as Sons of Ingmar (1919) and Karin, Daughter of Ingmar (1920) do to the novel Jerusalem. It also pays due respect to the setting and the culture with a stunning set up for a wedding showing all the trappings of a village celebration along with less formal trips to church and even the magistrate’s courtroom.

I also like the subtleties the theatrically-trained Sjöström is introducing to his cinematic language, a coffee cup falls to the floor when a character suspects himself of murder and as he struggles to pick up the pieces, the hot coffee stains his hands as he tries to think through the drunken night before. A groom’s father nervously wrings his hands as the family of his intended realise their serving girl has a past and, after a wedding is halted prematurely the camera focuses on disappointed hands silencing the strings on an otherwise jaunty violin.

The Sjostrom Touch?
There is so much to enjoy in this film and, as is usual, Sjöström directs the best out of his players especially an youthful Lars Hanson, actually just turned 31 and still five years away from marrying another of the film’s stars, Karin Molander who was then still with director Gutsaf Molander. She is good too but the plum role goes to Greta Almroth as Helga Nilsdotter, the titular lass from a humble homestead on the marshier end of the town’s agricultural land.

Helga has had a baby with a married man, Per Mårtensson (Gösta Cederlund) who refuses to accept that the child is his. In most cinematic cultures of the time, this is breath-taking set up – you can imagine Griffith moralising already – and yet we immediately feel sympathy for Helga and that only grows after she and her father (William Larsson) try and get Mårtensson to accept his responsibility. There is no option but to take him to court and face the opprobrium of the entire community.

Greta Almroth is also in A Lover in Pawn (1920), The Parsons Widow (1920) and with Lars in The Flame of Life aka Song of the Scarlet Flower (1919) as screened at last year's Il Cinema Ritrovato
Helga encounters Gudmund Erlandsson (Lars Hanson) on route to the hearing and, by this time expecting negative attention jumps out of his horse and court before he can question her. He shakes his head; he is not dishonourable but young enough to take everything at face value.

In the court there is a bravura Lagerlöf twist as Helga, out-gunned and out-flanked by lawyers and hypocrites, refuses to let Mårtensson swear an oath on the bible as she does not want him to perjure himself. This wins her the admiration of the judge and many in the room, a selfless act in the most demeaning of situations. Gudmund is impressed and asks the young woman to become his housekeeper. Helga soon proves her worth and greatly impresses Gudmund’s parents, Erland (Hjalmar Selander) and Ingeborg (Concordia Selander) with her cooking and cleaning.

Nice use of mirror by Sjöström and cameraman Henrik Jaenzon
But Helga cannot escape her shame as Gudmund is due to marry Hildur Persson (Karin Molander), daughter of a well-to-do family who seeing the Erlandsson’s new domestic immediately issue a no-Hildur-with-Helga ultimatum. The family have little option although Ingeborg offers any help the outcast Helga may need saying that Hildur who is one of those people who see their own needs first…

Things progress and with days to go to the big wedding, Gudmund has a night out with the lads he is going to regret. A drunken brawl results in a man being killed and it is only in the light of day with his hangover clearing does he hear of the killing and of a broken pen knife found embedded in the victim’s skull. Reaching down for his own knife he finds the blade has been broken off… is he the killer? Can he be forgiven and can he be saved? No spoiling today!!

Karin Molander and Greta Almroth
At every turn, Helga does the right thing and what she feels she must do for everyone else, she is the most morally consistent character and whilst other’s learn from their mistakes as they go they, eventually learn from her too. The woman at the heart of this story is a single parent, with a child born out of wedlock and she is the hero!

The Lass from the Stormy Croft seems to have been a success and, influential too with author Peter Cowie, writing in Scandinavian Cinema, that Sjöström’s film influenced Carl Theodor Dreyer's The Parson's Widow (1920). The author herself was impressed as related by John Fullerton, in his article Notes on the Cultural Context of Reception: The Girl from Marsh Croft 1917, quotes her as having said that despite the length of some title cards “…she was in tears like everyone else who had seen the ending of the scene”. Lagerlof reportedly said that 'film is much better and stronger that drama...Never before have the different roles in a dialogue scene been so thoroughly or excellently realized." She was not so much in accord with Stiller but that is for another day…

Arriving for the big wedding...
The film is only available digitally on YouTube but the Swedish Film Institute have copies including 35mm positives and a duplicate negative.

You can read the source material too with the novella available of the oddly-named The Selma Lagerlof Megapack: 31 Classic Novels and Stories Kindle Edition. Fill your boots but the translations are mostly from American Velma Swanston Howard who was not always as faithful to her author as Victor Sjostrom.




Sunday 19 April 2020

A question of balance… The Battle of the Sexes (1959), BFI Dual Format. Out now!


This new BFI issue looks pin-perfect and its spirit of Scottish subversion survives the modest modern approbation its central conceit inevitably brings. Yes, there are some difficult concepts at play here as ballsy American businesswoman Angela Barrows (Constance Cummings) attempts to steamroll a male, grey and stale family tweed makers in Edinburgh, but there’s wit enough to make sure that the joke’s on both sides and that it’s not just about “sex” but modernisation. Mrs Barrows may well be a corporate psychopath but her business sense is up against dinosaurs who source their thread from crofter’s cottages in the Hebrides… she wants to replace them with a factory and artificial fabric! Och, the very thought is enough to drive any Scotsman to seek solace in the nearest bottle of single malt…

Directed by Charles Crichton with a screenplay by Monja Danischewsky – who helped produce Whisky Galore! (1949) - from a short story by James Thurber (The Catbird Seat), it’s another film in which Peter Sellers simply disappears into character. In this case he is Mr Martin, Head Accountant of McPherson & Co. – who like Harris Tweed, follow very traditional practice. Sellers was only 34 at the time but you can only see a middle-aged man of gentle but determined demeanour, a withdrawn Edinburgh accent and powdery grey hair.

Peter Sellers
If you want any file from the seeming chaos of the company’s finance office, he’ll find it for you but it may take a little time. The room is populated by men just like Martin who slave over hand-written tasks amid piles of paper and the smoky shadows of Victorian business practice. There is only one woman there, Jeannie MacDougall (Patricia Hayes), who provides tea and biscuits for the antiquated accountants with begrudging regularity.

It’s an ocean away from the modern American corporation we see Angela in at the start of the film, flash suits, mad-men offices and a look of fear in the eyes of her male co-workers. She is persuaded to take some time off in Scotland and is to be accompanied by brow-beaten Irwin Hoffman (Donald Pleasence) who manages to give her the slip in London as she boards the train to Edinburgh. This is arguably the most grating part of the film; the idea that her “female” obsession with efficiency and work rate is in someway undermining for Hoffman and the rest who would otherwise get on perfectly well in their lazy routines.

Constance Cummings hold the Board Room
Business may be good but, Angela says to McPherson’s top salesman, if the tweed sells itself, why does the company need a salesman? There’s no doubt that the company could do better and yet that’s also a threat to timid firms the country over and this is almost as universal a conundrum as the gender conflict.

Old MacPherson has recently passed away and his nephew, Robert (Robert Morley) lacks the experience and is most certainly not aligned with the corporate values of his Uncle’s firm. Meeting Angela on the train, he decides she is the one to bring the business into the Twentieth Century and, being of naive and English (always a winning combination…) doesn’t grasp that she will bring too much twist to the cosy comforts of the world of tweed.

There’s much delight to be had in seeing the culture clash and the alarm of the greying character actors as Angela begins to work her way – getting them to change their filing systems from one held together by memory to one based on dates, alphabet and order. She buys them calculating machines, replacing the fountain pens that in the quiet office before, Mr Martin could tell if a nib needed replacing by the scratching made on parchments as the men leaned into their patient transitions.

Everything in its place...
Mr Martin takes Angela to the islands to see the “factory” that produces the yarn and once she realises that it is dozens of “mum and dad” crofters in cottages across Harris/Lewes then she decides that it would be much more efficient to build a single factory and then to use man-made fabrics – nylon!

Things have gone too far and Martin strikes back, at first in gentle ways, re-routing MacPherson’s new “squawk box” so that he can’t find where his staff are and then ordering too many clocks – following Angela’s instructions in the wrongest way possible. He almost starts to win, but his upset only causes Robert to fall a little further in supportive love. As the situation shifts once more in the favour of new working practice and “female” efficiency, Martin decides there’s only one way out and, after taking notes from watching a detective murder mystery film, sets about planning the perfect murder…


All’s fair in love and war but you’ll have to see it for yourself to see how the story resolves itself. Whatever happens it’s clear that Martin is fighting a mere battle in an eternal “war” and with Crichton’s assured hand on the tiller we are steered through a gentile romp that still gets laughs through gentle offending everyone.

Morley is brilliant as you’d expect and Cummings gives as good as she gets but it’s Sellers who catches the eye adding subtlety to what even the shallowest of depths.

Battle of the Sexes is out on Monday 20th April and comes with a handsome booklet stuffed with essays and information as well as excellent extras. Another film I’d not seen from this period and one much in favour in this era of the Talking Pictures revolution and the BFI’s ongoing digital redistribution of films before our time.

Extras on the disc:

Hancock’s Hard Boiled Eggs: Sellers’ contemporary, the Lad from East Cheam himself, Tony Hancock, appears with The Battle of the Sexes’ Patricia Hayes in this cracking collection of 11 egg-cellent Egg Marketing Board adverts from 1966
A Ghost of a Chance (1968, 50 mins): bonus feature-length fun for all the family as Sellers’ chum Graham Stark stars with Ronnie Barker, Patricia Hayes, Jimmy Edwards, Bernard Cribbins and Terry Scott in a corking Children’s Film Foundation comedy
Images of Edinburgh in Archive Film: an atmospheric selection of rarely-seen short films capturing Scotland’s capital in the first half of the 20th century, from the vaults of the BFI National Archive
Woolly Wonders: evocative 1940s archive films of traditional Scottish clothmaking, shot in colour by the great Jack Cardiff

Image gallery

Plus 30 page booklet including an essay by Vic Pratt,  The Complete Man: Peter Sellers and the Battle of the Sexes along with biographies on the main players from Kieron McCormack.




Saturday 18 April 2020

A dangerous deposit… A Lover in Pawn (1920)


This misanthropic social comedy was sandwiched between the critical and commercial disappointment of Karin Ingmarsdotter (1920) and Sjöström’s masterpiece, The Phantom Carriage (1921). Viewed from a solid century away if feels like Victor taking a break from “serious” before a return to the complexities of Selma Lagerlöf and it is indeed refreshingly amusing with a lower budget and a lighter touch than the epics around it. It is, however, not exactly light or frothy…

There’s a lovely sequence when Sjöström’s starchy pawnbroker is visited by the mother of his intended and the two share the most awkward of silences waiting for a tea to be made. All he can think of by way of conversation if the weather which was “nice today” as, by chance it had been yesterday and probably will be tomorrow… we’ve all been there and his toe-curling awkwardness is almost Keatonesque – we don’t talk nearly enough about Sjöström the comedian do we?

That said, he’s also playing an almost tragically bad humoured pawn broker, Sammel Eneman – nicknamed Mästerman,  who has almost the entire village in hock to him as he hands out tickets in exchange for meagre amounts of cash to a hard up fishing community. Everybody needs him but pretty much everybody hates him and his approach to customer service hardly endears him especially as he is the richest man in town with a house packed full of possessions he doesn’t need (writer looks nervously around his loft…) every one weighing him down with the burning resentment of their impoverished former owners.

Victor Sjöström and Concordia Selander
Mean Mr Mästerman may well be but he is not alone and at  various points every major character lets you down and the film plays with your expectations of hero and villain but, in typical Sjöström fashion, everyone’s a bit of both, flawed and human. You’re left to hope that they’ll at least learn a lesson before he delivers a knockout punch that satisfies and leaves you smiling.

Mutter Boman (Concordia Selander) a formidable local inn owner has a pretty young daughter, Tora (Greta Almroth, who was so good in Dreyer's The Parson's Widow (1920)) who is engaged to a sailor called Knut (Harald Schwenzen) who, I have to say, doesn’t look that ready to settle down. He drinks and he gambles and he drinks and he loses money as he gambles… as with many of the sailors, he gets by with the help of pawning whatever he can to Mästerman. There's no love lost for the pawn broker and even when he rescues Tora from assault and carries her back to the inn they mock him and offer him money for his good deed; he pockets it for a rainy day, never intending to keep this insult.

Naughty Knut and Mutter Boman
One night Knut goes just too far as he borrows money from Mutter Boman’s draw and blows the lot. They say love is blind, (but I don’t know, as I say love is kind...) and Tora offers to pawn herself to Mästerman in exchange for refilling her mother’s draw and preventing Knut from being found out. For his part, possibly in shame, Knut heads North vowing to earn enough to buy back the precious item listed in this case with a deposit number 1313.

The old pawnbroker is at first reluctant to accept the deal but he realises that Tora can do a lot of good for his warehouse home. He is delighted by her initial efforts as his store is soon revealed to be a smart sitting room and even the stuffed crocodiles are dusted back to life. Tora also starts to upgrade his opinion presenting him with a smart set of clothes he’d forgotten he had as she encourages him to be more lenient with his customers.

"You are a dangerous deposit, Tora..."
Seeing what he has in the store, he realises how much he doesn’t need and lets Tora do with it as she wants. She soon starts to hand out items to the locals and persuades her boss/master that it will help make him popular as indeed it does although he looks on with concern as his assets drain away.

It’s been said, and not just in my house, that, there’s no fool like and old fool and Mästerman begins to look on his young helper with more than contractual affection. She has brought laughter and light into his home and, she has also brought love. So much so that in a conversation about church she creates the impression that, at the right time, she would happily walk with him to church and sit next to him.

Greta Almroth, Victor and Harald Schwenzen
Now, with this unexpected re-emergence of his long-dormant romantic prospects, he clumsily assumes that Tora has agreed to marriage especially when her mother comes to tea. After absenting himself from the horror of small talk, he leans against the parlour door, and listens to the conversation within during which Tora laughingly reveals that she’s playing the old fella for a fool and only wants to marry Knut. This is unexpected because we were liking Tora and her decent attempts to both level up the local distribution of wealth as well as make a better man out of Mästerman. Now, however, she’s about to find out how sharper than a stuffed alligator’s tooth it is to have an ungrateful and exceptionally angry pawn broker.

Whilst not unexpected, Tora’s true motives feel like a shock and a betrayal of our narrative trust, with Mästerman threatening to slyly revert to type with the most vicious revenge and, well, Knut being Knut, we’re at a loss as to how this could possibly end well.

Bad faith trailing behind him, Mästerman heads to his finale
But, in Sjostrom we trust and Victor is victorious just as the final whistle approaches and the prospect of extra time looms. There's another special scene as Mästerman walks towards his wedding only to be followed by a mocking procession formed by Knut's mates... it's another example of the director's visual imagination and perfectly encapsulates the view of the local community for this man who, they are sure, can only do bad things. Wherever we walk, we all have a phantom procession of doubters trailing us... the trick is to ignore their pursuit and to carry on to your destination, not theirs.

Whilst not a straight-ahead comedy, Mästerman is very enjoyable and with Julius Jaenzon on hand we get a great depth of feel for the period, people and location. It’s a competent film and we should give thanks that so many of the director’s features seem to have survived from this time; he is so surefooted and always seems to seek out the dramatically different as his next Lagerlöf adaptation was to show.

All images purloined from the Swedish Film Institute database where the film survives as a 35mm acetate print and duplicate negative. 



Friday 10 April 2020

See Jerusalem and die… Till österland (1926), Selma Lageröf Part III


“This is the Jerusalem of soul-hunting, this is the Jerusalem of evil-speaking, this is the Jerusalem of lies, of slander, of jeers. Here one persecutes untiringly; here one murders without weapons. It is this Jerusalem which kills men.”
  
Till österland (To the Eastland) is the last of the four films adapted from Selma Lageröf’s two-part epic Jerusalem II: In the Holy Land (Jerusalem II: I det heliga landet) which was published in 1901. A Swedish-Soviet-German co-production it featured extensive location filming in Jaffa and Jerusalem as well as Borlänge, Dalarna in Sweden in order to replicate the sweep of the author’s themes of love, land, faith and fortune. Production shots also show cast and crew on a detour to Egypt to see the pyramid of Giza and the Sphynx.

Sadly only a quarter of the film survives in the Swedish Film Institute archive – 600m from an original length of 2587, about 20 minutes – so it appears mostly lost, which is even more disappointing when you consider that it’s a completion of the Ingmar family story and the resolution of Ingmar Ingmarsson’s complicated love triangle (which becomes a quadrangle or even a pentangle if you add Our Lord…).

But we have Selma’s book, a stack of production shots and the previous film, Ingmar’s Inheritance (1925) along with familiarity with the key performers; Lars Hanson, Mona Mårtenson, Ivan Hedqvist and Jenny Hasselqvist. The script is still extant but it’s in Swedish so I’m making assumptions about how much of the story script writer and director Gustav Molander included.

Some of the locals...
The first half of the novel focuses on the difficulties faced by the Dalecarlians community who left for Jerusalem at the end of the previous film. There is little mention of Ingmar until almost half way through as he journeys out to make good on what he sees as his obligations to the woman he pledged his heart too only to betray her trust when he mad to marry to buy back the family farm.

Lageröf had made the same arduous journey to the Holy Land in 1899, inspired by the migration of 37 Swedes from the village of Nås in 1896. According to Swedish writer, Ingrid Carlberg, their photographs can still be found in the American Colony Hotel along with Selma’s. Reviewing the book in The Independent Carlberg tells of the impact Lageröf’s “effortless storytelling” and prose had on her and, of course, being a Brit, I’ve had to rely on Velma Swanston Howard’s translation which has had mixed reviews in terms of its maintenance of authorial respect. That said, the story is still compelling and at times you’re wrong-footed by the shifts in tone, the magical reality and the visions that may or may not be real.

At one point, Gertrude – played by Mona Mårtenson – has a vision of a man who looks exactly like the Christ she saw in the woods which made her a convert. This time though, the “nameless messiah” turns out to be a Muslim and one who operates at a less cerebral level than the man of God she expected. It’s a reality check and yet Selma moves in mysterious ways… Ingmar, Lars Hanson again, travels to Jaffa on foot only to break down with an injured foot, imperceptibly the narrative shifts into a dream and he completes his mission; it’s only after being woken by the person he was seeking does he realise that his dream was real to her.

Mona Mårtenson and Harald Schwenzen as the Swedes arrive
“It is you who have killed her. Your slandering tongues sent her to her death!”

Lageröf’s precise agenda is complex and the first part of the book is merciless with characters being bought to life only to be extinguished by the heat, the light, shame and starvation. One man dies in disappointment after the golden vision of Jerusalem he saw on first arrival is not matched by the reality of dirty streets, beggars and lepers. Gunhild, one of Hellgum’s early converts, suffers after the group are demonised by other missionaries, who view them as immoral for their refusal to sanction marriage. The shame reaches back home where her mother dies in grief leading to the young woman’s decent into misery, she is soon gone herself, faith ill-rewarded. Hellgum himself is barely mentioned now that they are where he asked them to go and Conrad Veidt was also absent from the film.

The leader of the mission is an American woman, Mrs Gordon, who, in the book, was inspired to form the new faith by the sinking of L’Univers, not Hellgum as in the film. She is based on Anna Spafford, the wife of a well-to-do lawyer and Presbyterian church elder, who was travelling to Europe on the SS Ville du Havre with her daughters when it collided with another ship and sank, with Anna being one of the few survivors. The Spafford’s established a Christian utopian movement eventually travelling to establish a commune in Jerusalem where they hoped good works would hasten the Second Coming of Jesus. They were treated with suspicion and they did indeed encourage the exodus from Nås. Truth is stranger than fiction, even Selma’s.

Gertrude is taken ill at the Wailing Wall
Horatio Spafford died from malaria and so too do the Dalecarlians start to succumb, even Gertrude who is nursed back to health by Hök Gabriel Mattsson, Ingmar’s cousin played in the film by Harald Schwenzen, who has held a candle for the schoolmaster’s daughter even since he attended her father’s school. He doesn’t think he has a chance, assuming Gertrude still loves Ingmar, and yet she has moved on from her old passion ever since her vision of Christ and their arrival in the Holy Land. The two form a close bond but Gertrude doesn’t want to be unfaithful to her Lord and Hök doesn’t want to get in his cousin’s way.

Talking of whom, it’s now page 175 and Ingmar is finally arriving now the scene has firmly been set. A lot of water has passed under the bridge back home and Ingmar has grown to love his wife Barbro (Jenny Hasselqvist) whilst at the same time being bound to Gertrude by his promise. Barbro has revealed herself to be a forgiving and principled individual who not only is beloved by the peasants of Ingmar’s Farm but also provides financial support for the family of the man who jilted her. She too feels a responsibility to Gertrude and wants to divorce Ingmar so that he can be with her.

That unbearable moral conundrum at the end of the first volume and Ingmar’s Inheritance has twisted itself even further out of joint and there’s a tremendous tension in the final furlongs of the narrative as each character slowly understands the reality of their feelings for each other. Selma is not going to let any of this go though and there’s an excess of human complication which she makes light work of with a distinctive style that pushes through the fug of Americanisms used by Mrs Howard.

Ingmar arrives (Lars Hanson)
The beauty of reading the book after watching Ingmar’s Inheritance is that you can imagine how the actors would play these roles, Lars Hanson powerfully stubborn and Mona Mårtenson so fresh faced and open against the onslaught of ill-fortune. It’s Jenny Hasselqvist I’d most like to see though, especially in the dynamic final sequences where, having secretly had Ingmar’s baby, and fearing it to be possessed of her family curse of blindness and mental defects, Barbro considers following the same route as Big Ingmar’s wife, Brita, who killed her baby and then herself. That’s a powerful bookend to complete the family’s story arc and Hasselqvist would have dealt with the impossible mix of self-loathing and emerging motherly love with her usual grace.

 
The stills give some idea of how the film would have looked and again we would have had the excellent cinematography of Julius Jaenzon - as well as Carl-Axel Söderström – given a totally different landscape to capture. For the man who shot so well against the Sun in The Sons of Ingmar (1919), it would be fascinating to see.

Ivan Hedqvist and Jenny Hasselqvist
The stills also show where Molander’s story was focused and that is the on aftermath of Ingmar’s arrival. Ingmar gives the Dalecarlians an immediate lift – he is a representation of their old certainties and has qualities of leadership too. That said, his sister Karin (Märta Halldén) is appalled to hear of his impending divorce and that it was requested by Barbro. She imagines what their father would say and Ingmar responds with a weary, “The dead are better off than the living…” a sentiment straight out of the pages of Lagerlöf’s first novel, Gosta Berling.

Ingmar writes a letter to the Parson back home, one he wants forwarded to his wife,  which neatly sets out how they have become estranged in spite of themselves; it’s what we expected after the last film but for different reasons and with feelings which add a whole new level to their situation. As with Big Ingmar and Brita their route to love is all the stronger for being unexpected and founded on an almost unearthly force. Both are driven be a sense of duty and that must outweigh their feelings for, as Barbro’s father dies, she feels relieved of her responsibility to remain married to a man she believes still loves another.

Out in Jerusalem, Ingmar is aiming to bring back Gertrude to complete on his promise but when he senses her change of affection, he can see a plan that might just work. He finds out about a plan to undermine the colony and makes his journey to Jaffa to warn Mrs Gordon, after this supernatural episode he wins favour enough to be allowed to manage an unused mill – the Colony won’t work for pay and the owner won’t have them work for no money but Ingmar has no qualms.

Mona Mårtenson and Lars Hanson
“Every miller knows that there is a good deal of magic about a mill…”

Ingmar’s efforts bring a healthier balance to the Colony, perhaps this is the kind of endeavour these farming folk have been missing; the hard work draws them in and reinforces their purpose. By autumn “the whole colony was alive with the spirit of enterprise and activity…”

Ingmar is injured trying to stop the desecration of a Jewish grave and develops and eye infection – he must return to Sweden to save his sight and after Gertrude agrees to accompany him he manages to persuade Hök by letting him and Gertrude, read his confessional letter… the section in which he spies on their realisation of his true feelings is precious.

Hasselqvist and Hanson
But Ingmar’s not out of the woods yet, and as he returns home, he finds Barbro with a new-born baby – she is so determined not to force his hand that she is lying about the date of birth and refusing to name the father. Will Barbro’s stubbornness prevent the couple’s happiness? Step in our old friend, Strong Ingmar (Ivan Hedqvist) for the most satisfying and poetic of conclusions.

Even with the translation, these books stand the test of time and are remarkable commentaries on Swedish society. As for the films, the first two Sjostrom films are emotionally epic whereas Molander’s are the more commercial, crowd-pleasing epics. Maybe there’s a complete copy of Till österland out there and the chance to see these performers against the backdrop of changeless Jerusalem.

I read the Leopold Classic Library edition of the 1918 Velma Swanston Howard translation, nice laminated cover - available via Amazon et al.

All photographs from the Swedish Film Institute online archive here.


For more information on Selma's trip to Jerusalem there's an interesting post on the National Library of Israel's The Librarians' website from Hadar Ben-Yehuda.

Filming outside Jerusalem
Filming the arrival at Jaffa
Cast and crew take a trip to Giza...