Old lessons from a master...still fresh

Last night I watched Ingmar Bergman's 1957 classic film Wild Strawberries, one of his lighter bleak looks at modern life, particularly modern life in Sweden. Bergman spent most of his career rebelling against organized religion, government, and even God him (her) self. In this film we spend a day with a 77 year old doctor who is receiving a national award for his service. From his early dreams to his last dream of the evening, he relives vital and often painful moments from his life. Much of this happens as he is driving several hundred miles to the ceremony with his daughter-in-law, the incandescent Ingrid Thulin. Along the way they pick up three young hikers who provide a fresh contrast to the old man's isolated views. They are also met with a near-death experience when an arguing couple lose control of their car. These two are so obnoxious they are finally evicted from the old man's car.

The doctor's dreams are strongly influenced by familiar surreal images: clocks without hands, faces without full features, a casket falling and disgorging (no surprise) the body of the doctor himself. More important are his memories of his youth where he watches his brother seduce his intended and his unhappy wife have an affair. Throughout all of these experiences, the doctor learns that he has become a cold, unfeeling man who has passed on his coldness to his son, a man who believes in nothing.

Bergman creates a film that has more humor and light than one would expect from such a plot. Unlike his heavier films (The Seventh Seal, The Virgin Spring), Wild Strawberries holds possibilities for healing and redemption. The young hikers sing a farewell blessing for the old man, his formerly cool daughter-in-law warms to him and he to her, and his son seems more human. The last scene is a dream in which the doctor is returned to his childhood and welcomed like a prodigal coming home.