Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1956) is one of the cinema's supreme masterpieces, and contains some of the century's most indelible images - none more so than the knight playing chess with Death on the seashore. It's been referenced and parodied so often over the past four decades (Woody Allen, the Monty Python team and even Bill & Ted owe it a huge debt) that it's a great tribute to the film that it's hardly lost a jot of its original power - indeed, this DVD makes the strongest possible case for its stature, and will be a revelation to those who have only seen it on VHS or on one of the grey, mangled 16mm prints that played repertory cinemas.
Shot in just 35 days on a tiny budget, Bergman's film (which takes its title from the Book of Revelation) sees the knight Antonius Blok (a startlingly young Max Von Sydow) return to Sweden from the Crusades to find a land ravaged by plague and superstition. Meeting Death (the unforgettable Bengt Ekerot) on the seashore, he challenges him to a game of chess, during which he is allowed to explore the land and its people in search of something that will give his life meaning.
It's a long, hard search, as this is a world where civilisation has yet to make its mark, where pagan rites hold sway: young girls are burned as witches, processions of flagellants parade grimly, the fear of plague and death is all-pervasive. Bergman himself was surprised at the film's vast international success - though this may have been because the film came along at the right time: to a world embroiled in the lunacies of the Cold War, this film that seemed to come from another era and which dared to ask fundamental questions about human existence that most other films shied away from couldn't help but strike a chord.
The quality of the DVD is quite simply stunning. Despite the preponderance of second-rate prints in circulation, it seems that the original materials were well preserved, and Criterion went back to them - and after extensive restoration (which includes improvements made since the release of Criterion's already highly-acclaimed laserdisc edition), they've come up with something as close to perfect as we're ever likely to get: a superb showcase for cinematographer Gunnar Fischer's stark black-and-white images. The original aspect ratio was 4:3, so the DVD is understandably not anamorphic. The dialogue can be in Swedish or English, though the latter is more for curiosity value than anything else (it's interesting to note that the subtitles are often sharply different from the dubbed dialogue!), and the fact that the sound quality is noticeably worse than it is on the Swedish track rather suggests where Criterion's priorities lay. Both soundtracks are, unsurprisingly, in mono. There are fifteen chapters.
As ever with the finest Criterion DVDs, the quantity of the extras is fully matched by the quality. Devised by Peter Cowie, one of the world's leading experts on Bergman's work (not to mention his authorised biographer), they provide a huge amount of background information in the form of an introductory essay in a four-page booklet, an intelligent, erudite and highly informative critical commentary (also indexed by chapter), and 'Ingmar Bergman: An Illustrated Filmography', a lengthy on-screen essay (which includes a detailed biography) that incorporates over 75 stills and two film excerpts (from The Magician and Wild Strawberries, the latter being the famous dream sequence that opens that film). The DVD also contains the original theatrical trailer (which is, for once, the genuine original, not some American reissue plastered with OTT critical superlatives), and a demonstration of the picture restoration with before and after sequences.
In short, this is a classic Criterion DVD - right up there with Brazil and The Red Shoes as a showcase of what the format is capable of in the hands of people who understand its potential as being more than just a showcase for big, splashy action movies. They've done Bergman proud.
Michael Brooke