Upon finishing the writing of my previous post on To the Lighthouse, I looked for relief on TV – The Movie Channel. It was “A Virgin Spring” by Ingmar Bergman, and it was similar to the Woolf book. I eventually saw the spring but no many virgins. 

Nothing much happens. A daughter is murdered at a place some distance from the homestead, a rustic place in the forest with few men and many women. The group marches through the forest, carrying no weapons, through streams, over hills, to the place of the murder where they find the daughter dead. There are the usual shots: faces of the marchers, older woman struggling to ford a stream, a raven or a crow [not the whole bird] in a tree. A woman is grieved at the sight of the corpse. There are a few lines of inconsequential dialogue. The group prays.

There is little characterization, many shots of a young Max Von Sydow, black and white photography, and an enormous pretense toward profundity. With the prayer, the movie ended, reflecting my sentiments completely. I was relieved I would never have to see more of this movie.


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