The Virgin Spring (1960)
Directed by Ingmar Bergman

Film Review

Even for those who are well acquainted with the work of Ingmar Bergan, there is a primitive raw quality to The Virgin Spring which makes it a particularly bleak and shocking entry in his mostly gloomy oeuvre. Inspired by a Medieval Swedish ballad, the film explores the conflict between base human instincts and the higher spiritual qualities, a fundamental dichotomy which lies at the heart of human experience and which recurs again and again in Bergman's films.  At the time, Ingmar Bergman was enjoying the early fruits of his success as a director of stage and cinema, but he was also beginning to ask himself some very deep questions about the nature of existence and man's relationship with God.

The Virgin Spring sprang from Bergman's musings over whether it makes sense for a rational being, as Man had (apparently) become in the Twentieth Century, to believe in an unseen, all-knowing God.  Is it possible for a being which had the capability of understanding the very of essence of matter, which had the power to destroy the world in a matter of minutes, to subscribe to a belief system that predated the Dark Ages by more than a millenium?   These metaphysical concerns would continue to preoccupy the director over the decade that followed, and formed the basis for his trilogy of films: Through a Glass Darkly, Winter Light and The Silence.  The Virgin Spring covers pretty much the same ground, but in a more compact, symbolic and stylised form.

The period in which the film is set is appropriate for its subject.  In the 14th Century, Christianity hadn't succeeded in ousting the pagan religions, and so we have a world in which the spiritual (representing Christianity) lived side by side with the seemingly earthy (paganism).  These two sides of humanity (soul and flesh) are personified in the film's two female protagonists, the half-sisters Karin and Ingeri.  Karin's purity and goodness is contrasted with Ingeri's wildness and wickedness.  But there's a curious twist.  Karin may be the favourite, but she is spoilt, lazy and naïve.  Ingeri knows the world better than she does - she is forced to work by foster parents who have no love for her, she has allowed herself to be impregnated by a man and bears the consequence.  Karin is an angel; Ingeri is her animal counterpart, a fallen woman in every sense of the word.  Neither is a complete human being.  They are two sides of the same whole - the conflicting opposites that we shall see again in The Silence and Persona.

Töre's reaction to his daughter's rape and murder emphasises this duality of the human psyche, in the starkest way imaginable.  His initial unthinking response is to take revenge, which he does, with ruthless efficiency.   That done, his animal lust for blood sated, he quickly realises that what he has done has brought him into conflict with his spiritual beliefs.  The Old Testament teaching of "an eye for an eye" sits ill alongside Christ's message of forgiveness.  To see Töre tormented by this inner conflict is arguably the most powerful, most poignant part of the film (an extraordinary performance from Max von Sydow).  Töre can only imagine what his daughter suffered; we, the all-knowing spectator, actually saw it - an act of unspeakable savagery, human depravity at its worst.  We can sympathise with Töre's need for justice, but it's also apparent that by taking his revenge he has put up a barrier between himself and the God he believes in and has grown to love.  Töre is the most tragic of tragic characters, and the moment when he finds within himself that rare jewel of atonement and receives, in return, his God's grace is one of the most beautiful in any Bergman film, despite its coy simplicity and obvious theatricality.

Although this film won Ingmar Bergman his first Oscar (in 1961), the director did not rate the film too highly and saw it as a poor man's version of a Kurosawa film.  Certainly, the film was to mark a turning point in Bergman's career.  It was the last of his symbolic period works; his subsequent films would have a far greater sense of realism and show an increasing preoccupation with psychological rather than philosophical and ethical matters.   The deep existential themes that underpin The Virgin Spring would crop up again and again in Bergman's later films, but in ways that a contemporary audience could more readily relate to.

Film Synopsis

In 14th Century Sweden, a wild young woman Ingeri lives with her foster parents, Töre and Märeta, hard working peasants who have chosen to follow the new Christian faith.   One sunny spring morning, Töre's beloved daughter Karin is given the task of delivering virgin candles to a local church, which is several hours' ride away from the homestead.  Accompanied by Ingeri, Karin sets off in her best silk dress, happy to perform the errand.  On the way, the young women are met by two amiable goatherds and their younger brother.  Karin invites the strangers to share her lunch, and they accept.  The two goatherds then turn on Karin and, as Ingeri watches with a mixture of satisfaction and horror, they proceed to rape and kill her.  That evening, whilst anxiously awaiting the return of their daughter, Töre and Märeta are visited by the goatherds, who offer clothes in return for food and shelter.  Recognising her daughter's silk dress, stained with blood, Märeta draws the obvious conclusion...