Winter Light (1963)

 Ingmar Bergman's "Winter Light"

Although I have not yet seen 1961's "Through a Glass Darkly" and 1963's "The Silence," Ingmar Bergman's renowned 1963 film "Winter Light" is meant as a second piece of a three part unofficial trilogy. All three films deal with interpretations of God and humanity's relationship with God. "Winter Light" finds the certainty of God being penetrated and existential nihilism seeping out of the gaping wound of uncertainty. 

The film centers on pastor Tomas Ericsson, who is dealing with a crisis of faith. All the while, his relationship is falling apart, one of his church members commits suicide, and he is dealing with a sickness. The film follows his reconciliation with his own nihilism in his faith and certainty about God.

Bergman was inspired to make this story after talking to a clergyman, who told Bergman how he had offered spiritual advice to a fisherman who later killed himself. In the film, the man who kills himself does so because he learns about China obtaining nuclear weapons. This reason was used because Bergman himself had read an article about the subject, which filled him with dread. 

One of the most prominent aspects of the film is its cinematography. As one of my film professors noted, upon first watch, the cinematography looks relatively simple. However, upon further viewing, it becomes increasingly more complex. One of the more complex aspects of the cinematography is the lighting. Bergman's frequent collaborator, Sven Nykvist, spent an entire month studying the lighting in the church they were to film in. He conducted photography tests in order to get an understanding of light at different points in the day under different conditions. In order to reduce shadows as much as possible, Nykvist had reflectors and screens built. The compositions then become rather bright and stark, which almost seems like a tonal opposite of the existential bleakness of the subject matter. 

The subject matter itself becomes all the more unshakable after you watch the film. I will admit to finding the film a bit dreary and boring whilst watching. I think my viewpoint on this is echoed through the critical analysis of the film by film critics at the time of its release. "Variety" called the film a "somewhat boring one," while Judith Crist of "New York Harold Tribune" found it "bleak and cold in its abstract ideas." However, much of the dread of the film that you simply examine at first starts to seep into your brain after the film's runtime has concluded. There is a certain stagnant claustrophobia to the film's reflective images and a quietness to the film's unshakable desperation. After leaving the film, I felt the film like an itch that I could not scratch away, as the nihilistic bleakness creeped up through my veins. I understand that perhaps through all of our protagonist's uncertainty, the final scene in which he begins his sermon once again (just as he did at the start of the film) seems to signify that he has regained his strength to carry forward, especially after sexton's comments to him about Jesus' true suffering being his complete abandonment. The pastor perhaps felt a kinship to Christ in that moment, which allowed him to carry on. The pastor's parallel to Christ's crisis of faith is echoed throughout the whole film with many of Bergman's shots of these visual comparisons. However, I also feel as though the final images of the pastor starting his communion once again completely mirrored the opening sequence, which seems to me to signify a circular effect. This effect communicates to me that, despite all the existential dread, uncertainty, and crisis of faith, our pastor must continue on. Each day, every day. Over and over again. Unlike the man who escapes this endless cycle by committing suicide, he (and we) must continue in our endless charade.