Sunday, October 11, 2015

The Phantom Carriage (1921)

I don't believe I'd ever seen a silent Swedish film before. Fittingly, it was Ingmar Bergman's favorite from an early age, though I couldn't have independently identified any sign of influence besides Grim Reaper imagery. Interestingly, TPC doesn't have a Grim Reaper in the sense we usually think of: The task of collecting dead souls (merely carrying them, not using the purely ceremonial scythe) falls to a new dead soul each year, namely whoever dies last in the year. Apparently, the legend makes no allowance for time zone differences.

As you can guess, this story includes the stroke of midnight, with chimes dutifully supplied in addition to a haunting score. Protagonist David, a homeless drunk, has been wary of the legend but injudiciously provokes his companions into a serious fight. Then he meets the titular carriage's retiring driver, Georges, whom he happened to have met shortly before his death. David reeeeally doesn't want to take over (is it that terrible a way to spend a year in the afterlife?), and we actually never see him take the reins or a soul in his hands. Georges forces him only to come along for information....

Not much of a horror, is it? I've had bigger scares from some renditions of A Christmas Carol. In fact, the story probably owes something to ACC. Between what unfolds before him and a series of flashbacks, David comes to understand what a jerk he's been in life and how his actions are having repercussions for others in the present, particularly a saintly Salvation Army nurse and David's ex and kids. Georges claims no power over the living, but is it too late for David to set something right?

Ultimately, the spooky premise is perhaps more of a framing device than anything else. Your best bet to enjoy the movie is to see it as a melodramatic morality play with mildly Gothic fantasy trappings. The story is simple, possibly to a fault, but timeless in its character depiction.

I almost want to see more of Bergman just to gauge how far the influence goes. But five of his dark, brooding classics are enough for my lifetime.

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