Review #1731: The Phantom Carriage.
Cast:
Victor Sjöström (David Holm), Hilda Borgström (Anna Holm), Tore Svennberg (Georges), Astrid Holm (Edit), Concordia Selander (Edit's Mother), Lisa Lundholm (Maria), Einar Axelsson (David's Brother), Nils Aréhn (Prison Chaplain), Olof Ås (The First Driver), Tor Weijden (Gustafsson), Simon Lindstrand (David's Companion), Nils Elffors (David's Companion), and John Ekman (Police Constable) Written and Directed by Victor Sjöström (#1327 - The Wind)
Review:
Sure, there have been a few arguments over what kind of genre this film belongs to, and one of those genres involves horror. Really when you think about it, the argument over whether something is horror or not is one that has persisted for over a century, where the lines between melodrama and horror start to feel blurred. As such, there have been arguments over calling this a morality tale along with a fantasy...and horror. Beyond involving effects or scenarios meant to scare oneself, there are also other things to consider, such as atmosphere, and one can see that here with a film dedicated to seeing the countryside (meant to look like the town of Landskrona, although it was filmed in the studio of Filmstaden, the first film to be shot there as one of the most modern studios in Europe) within all of its psychological effects here, complete with apparitions and the figure of Death that looms over the mistakes of the past. Well, that, and tuberculosis. The film is an adaptation of the novel Thy Soul Shall Bear Witness! [Körkarlen], written by Selma Lagerlöf (by that time a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature) in 1912, done as a public education of the aforementioned disease in TB (also referred to as "consumption"). The book would be adapted twice more: 1939 by the French and in 1958 in Sweden; Sjöström was already quite familiar with the works of Lagerlof, since he had adapted two of her novels into features with The Sons of Ingmar (1919) and Karin, Daughter of Ingmar (1920); he apparently had to act out the whole screenplay to Lagerlof in order to have her approval to do the film. The film would prove influential to filmmakers such as Ingmar Bergman, who reportedly watched the film at least once a year after first seeing at the age of fifteen.
It is the credit of cinematographer and Julius Jaenzon and lab executive Eugén Hellman that the film endures in its most memorable aspect: its special effects, which involving double exposures and layers that mean one can see the ghostly figures in all of its dimensions (of course, the cameras had to be cranked by hand at the exact time and speed to make the exposures look natural, since one wouldn't have the option for optical printing for another decade); the result was that post-production took five months. It is also the key highlight for folks coming into it with the horror angle in mind, since what we have is a film with a careful pace involving flashbacks within flashbacks and a moralistic moment reminiscent of A Christmas Carol. In other words, it falls right along the lines of curiosities to enjoy for how much is accomplished in somber wonder than for creeping scares, although its view of second chances may vary from viewer to viewer. In other words, it's the ideal life-affirming story without succumbing to hokum, one that has Sjöström at the helm for all of the important aspects as the star and filmmaker with the interest to keep the viewer on their heels, whether that means an intensely driven performance that runs the gamut of what it means to look back into the abyss of memories long past, or with the inventive ways he keeps the narrative flowing in a way that draws every little thread together all at once (such as using flashbacks within flashbacks, for example). Holm plays well to the bone in pity as the suffering saint figure, while Borgstrom plays the withered wife off well to Sjöström. It is folklore and superstition that work out well here, showing a perspective that would make a worthy doubleheader with another Swedish silent film involving folklore in Häxan (1922). Indeed, it is the showing of trials and tribulations of the fight for one's soul (one that we dare hope indeed is mature before the reaping), since we are dealing with someone seeing a dead man ride a carriage because they died right before the year ended (weirdly enough, this might be the most worthy candidate of being the best film to watch on New Year's Eve, morbid or not); a century has followed the release of the film, and while effects certainly got better and better with making ghost stories, this film still proves worthy as one on the forefront of graceful execution of said effects to make a sobering accomplishment in visual storytelling, and it is easy to see why Sjöström was a sought after name in America (since of course the film, edited so the carriage scene came in later, was shown there) that led to him directing his next one in Name the Man (1924) with Goldwyn Pictures. Thankfully, one can see the film the way it was intended nowadays, since for decades it was only available as a black-and-white-print (in 1975, the Swedish Film Institute used incomplete prints of make a complete duplicate negative with a light tint and nearly four decades later they helped with a new digital scan of their 1998 restoration to make a digital master). Of course, the lasting fame that came with the film for Sjöström was that his last appearance on film was as the star of Bergman's Wild Strawberries, 36 years after directing The Phantom Carriage, as if the mentor and student became one (Bergman also would make a film on the production of the 1921 film for television in 2000). At any rate, this is a solemn triumph of world cinema, one that haunts the depths of one's soul with worthy effects and efforts from its director and star to result in a worthy 107 minutes that should be seen for all, whether for horror interests or not.
Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.
Next Time: The Magician (1926).
