Monday, October 17, 2005
Of course one must be suspicious whenever an hour into an Ingmar Bergman film things are joyful and celebratory. Watching uppercrust youths cavort in gleeful Yule regalia has to alert one that eventually the Earth will crack and miasmic vapours will cause dismay for all.
I'm only half-way through this 6-hour miniseries, and my personal Despondency Meter has gone off the charts. Fantastic stuff, tho. Young Alexander has a vision early on of Death dragging a scythe through his grandmother's luxurious apartments. When the scythe descends his blissfully imaginative world is turned into Calvinist Hell.