The Seventh Seal...
I was pleased just now to find online the script to one of my favourite films (Bergman's finest) "The Seventh Seal", and I've extracted one of the most memorable (in my opinion of course) scenes from the film below. It's quite a well known aspect of the film (and often parodied) that Bergman portrays Death as a cloaked in black, chess playing figure, and in this scene, the knight (the other main character) enters a confession booth within a church, and makes his confession (unknown to him) to Death himself:
The KNIGHT is kneeling before a small altar. It is dark and quiet around him. The air is cool and musty. Pictures of saints look down on him with stony eyes. Christ's face is turned upwards, His mouth open as if in a cry of anguish. On the ceiling beam there is a representation of a hideous devil spying on a miserable human being. The KNIGHT hears a sound from the confession booth and approaches it. The face of DEATH appears behind the grille for an instant, but the KNIGHT doesn't see him.
KNIGHT
I want to talk to you as openly as I can, but my heart is empty.
DEATH doesn't answer.
KNIGHT
The emptiness is a mirror turned towards my own face. I see myself in it, and I am filled with fear and disgust.
DEATH doesn't answer.
KNIGHT
Through my indifference to my fellow men, I have isolated myself from their company. Now I live in a world of phantoms. I am imprisoned in my dreams and fantasies.
DEATH
And yet you don't want to die.
KNIGHT
Yes, I do.
DEATH
What are you waiting for?
KNIGHT
I want knowledge.
DEATH
You want guarantees?
KNIGHT
Call it whatever you like. Is it so cruelly inconceivable to grasp God with the senses? Why should He hide himself in a mist of half-spoken promises and unseen miracles?
DEATH doesn't answer.
KNIGHT
How can we have faith in those who believe when we can't have faith in ourselves? What is going to happen to those of us who want to believe but aren't able to? And what is to become of those who neither want to nor are capable of believing?
The KNIGHT stops and waits for a reply, but no one speaks or answers him.
There is complete silence.
KNIGHT
Why can't I kill God within me? Why does He live on in this painful and humiliating way even though I curse Him and want to tear Him out of my heart? Why, in spite of everything, is He a baffling reality that I can't shake off? Do you hear me?
DEATH
Yes, I hear you.
KNIGHT
I want knowledge, not faith, not suppositions, but knowledge. I want God to stretch out His hand towards me, reveal Himself and speak to me.
DEATH
But He remains silent.
KNIGHT
I call out to Him in the dark but no one seems to be there.
DEATH
Perhaps no one is there.
KNIGHT
Then life is an outrageous horror. No one can live in the face of death, knowing that all is nothingness.
DEATH
Most people never reflect about either death or the futility of life.
KNIGHT
But one day they will have to stand at that last moment of life and look towards the darkness.
DEATH
When that day comes ...
KNIGHT
In our fear, we make an image, and that image we call God.
The KNIGHT is kneeling before a small altar. It is dark and quiet around him. The air is cool and musty. Pictures of saints look down on him with stony eyes. Christ's face is turned upwards, His mouth open as if in a cry of anguish. On the ceiling beam there is a representation of a hideous devil spying on a miserable human being. The KNIGHT hears a sound from the confession booth and approaches it. The face of DEATH appears behind the grille for an instant, but the KNIGHT doesn't see him.
KNIGHT
I want to talk to you as openly as I can, but my heart is empty.
DEATH doesn't answer.
KNIGHT
The emptiness is a mirror turned towards my own face. I see myself in it, and I am filled with fear and disgust.
DEATH doesn't answer.
KNIGHT
Through my indifference to my fellow men, I have isolated myself from their company. Now I live in a world of phantoms. I am imprisoned in my dreams and fantasies.
DEATH
And yet you don't want to die.
KNIGHT
Yes, I do.
DEATH
What are you waiting for?
KNIGHT
I want knowledge.
DEATH
You want guarantees?
KNIGHT
Call it whatever you like. Is it so cruelly inconceivable to grasp God with the senses? Why should He hide himself in a mist of half-spoken promises and unseen miracles?
DEATH doesn't answer.
KNIGHT
How can we have faith in those who believe when we can't have faith in ourselves? What is going to happen to those of us who want to believe but aren't able to? And what is to become of those who neither want to nor are capable of believing?
The KNIGHT stops and waits for a reply, but no one speaks or answers him.
There is complete silence.
KNIGHT
Why can't I kill God within me? Why does He live on in this painful and humiliating way even though I curse Him and want to tear Him out of my heart? Why, in spite of everything, is He a baffling reality that I can't shake off? Do you hear me?
DEATH
Yes, I hear you.
KNIGHT
I want knowledge, not faith, not suppositions, but knowledge. I want God to stretch out His hand towards me, reveal Himself and speak to me.
DEATH
But He remains silent.
KNIGHT
I call out to Him in the dark but no one seems to be there.
DEATH
Perhaps no one is there.
KNIGHT
Then life is an outrageous horror. No one can live in the face of death, knowing that all is nothingness.
DEATH
Most people never reflect about either death or the futility of life.
KNIGHT
But one day they will have to stand at that last moment of life and look towards the darkness.
DEATH
When that day comes ...
KNIGHT
In our fear, we make an image, and that image we call God.
posted by John Doran-Armstrong at 7:52 PM
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