Prästänkan

The Parson's Widow is not entirely a really great silent film; it loses some of its strengths as a satire on marriage and (partially) religion when it starts to get a little sentimental towards the end. But for a while, one sees a film by the master Danish filmmaker Carl Th. Dreyer flexing his directorial muscles on something that is something one might not expect from seeing such pieces of perfect tragedy like Joan of Arc or Day of Wrath. Here we get the story of Sofren (Einar Rod), an unconventional would-be Parson who 'auditions' for the position by going on about the devil in an off-beat manner (yes, off-beat). He learns that in order to become the village Parson, he needs to marry the presumed local old witch, Miss Pedersdotter (grim-faced Hildur Carlberg), who lures him in with a piece of cursed cod and has him succumb to marry her - but he really wants Mari (Almroth), and cannot until she dies. But when?

There's some splendid comic set-pieces set in here, like with Sofren trying to scare the old Miss in a devil-disguised sheet, only to be foiled by his own slippers, or when Sofren tries to sneak out at night to see Mari and continually gets caught (or, in one case, another old woman in the bed!) But what's more amazing here is Dreyer's choices in casting. Rod is perfect for this kind of frustrated, ambitious but conniving sort, with great and imaginative eyes that do a lot while seeming to do little (one compared this as Dreyer doing Day of Wrath as a Chaplin, but I don't see much of Chaplin in his main male lead), and Carlberg is so dead-on for this old widow who may or may die (depending on if a life-lengthening potion works) that it's among some of Dreyer's best actors in one of his movies.

While Dreyer sometimes loses his footing in the story, as mentioned towards the end, he makes up for it with some curious scenes, like the dance at the wedding, or the specific use of colored tints. When Sofron has the weird dream state of seeing a 'young' Miss Pedersdotter, we see it in a haze of light red (or maybe blue), and it's completely dazzling for a moment. It might be a slightly lighter affair than his more 'serious' pictures, but for the curious digging into Dreyer's catalog, it's not at all a disappointment. At its best Parson's Widow has a good, hard farcical grip on the subject matter.

Prästänkan (literal translation of title: The Parson's Widow).

The Parson's Widow is significant for two reasons– It is one of the very few national romantic films, and it's one of the very first films to make extensive use of locations.

National romanticism was a 19th century movement that glorified pure hearted, independent farmers (as opposed to the aristocrats) and looked to the hinterlands as a source of pure culture and moral inspiration. It was particularly influential in Norway, the film's location.

As The Parson's Widow begins, Søfren, a divinity student, is offered a position in a rural parish¬– provided he marries the parson's elderly widow. He accepts, despite his betrothal to Mari, whom he passes off as his sister. This theme could exist only in a land where poverty and hunger were facts of life.

Modern audiences may find The Parson's Widow overly moralistic and sentimental. It has a 19th century feel– owing more to romantics like Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson than to more modern novelists like Knut Hamsun, who won the Nobel prize for literature in 1920, the year the film was made. At that point, national romanticism was on its way out.

The story has a few supernatural overtones, but this is no horror film. In The Parson's Widow, the fantastic elements originate from folk beliefs and function primarily as cultural references.

Set in an indefinite past, The Parson's Widow makes extensive use of locations at a time when few filmmakers ventured beyond studio doors. It idealizes rural life in a way that anticipates Robert Flaherty's Man of Aran. And, like Flaherty's film, The Parson's Widow meticulously recreates practices that were rapidly disappearing.

The opening scenes were shot at Garmo stavkirke (stave church) in Maihaugen– the open air museum in Lillehammer, Norway. The farmstead scenes are probably shot at the same place, and the older extras would have been the last generation to learn the crafts they demonstrate as part of daily life.

People today will view The Parson's Widow primarily because it is an early film of director Carl Theodore Dreyer. But this is no beginner's work. Beautiful composition, expressive lighting, and obsessive attention to detail are signature marks of the director who gave us The Passion of Joan of Arc and Vampyr. The Parson's Widow stands as a minor masterpiece in its own right, but the romanticism is unlikely to resonate with today's audiences.

Sofren and Mari, are two youngsters who wander into a typically idyllic Norwegian village. The village is searching desperately for a new parson and Sofren has studied hard for the ministry. He has been encouraged in this by his sweetheart Mari because her father will not allow her to marry Sofren until he becomes a real parson. There are two other applicants for the job of village parson but after a hard competition and delivering a splendid sermon, Sofren wins that Gott job. But there is a catch: according to parish law, Sofren must wed the late parson's widow, Dame Margarete; that's a terrible dilemma for Sofren since he cannot get Mari if he doesn't get the post and he will not get that unless he weds the old woman…

"Prästänkan" ( The Parson's Widow , 1920 ) is an excellent and wonderful work in spite of the fact that it is only Herr Carl Theodor Dreyer's second film as a director but perhaps this is not a strange thing at all if we have in mind Herr Dreyer's great debut, "Praesidenten" (1919), reviewed by this German count in this modern diary sometime and liked by this Herr Von very much according to his aristocratic standards, natürlich!.

Everything is remarkable in "Prästänkan" ( astonishing art direction, again not unusual in Herr Dreyer's early works, in which every minor detail is matched carefully with wonderful outdoor scenery and technical effects that enrich superbly the film story ), but the most remarkable aspect of the film for this German count is Herr Dreyer's skill in filming a story with a religious subject but resisting the temptation to be sacrilegious or irreverent, the most obvious and easy ways for many directors to depict such a delicate subject. On the contrary, Herr Dreyer is very respectful of the religious theme of the story but includes also an intelligent sense of humour, Nordic humour natürlich!. The funny scenes fit perfectly in a story in which impatient and inexpert youngsters vie with a wise and crafty woman, and where all will learn their own lessons until finally common sense prevails.

And that's a great Herr Dreyer film goal; to make a "local" story with its Northern customs into a universal film, overriding country barriers. That only happens when the author is a very skillful man, natürlich!.

By the way, even though this German count speaks elegant languages such as Latin and ancient Greek, the first time that "Prästänkan" was shown in the Schloss theatre, the nitrate had Swedish intertitles only, a dead language for this Herr Von. For that reason it is necessary to praise Herr David Shepard ( a singular longhaired youngster who cares about silent films ) for his superb English edition of this film so that illiterate youngsters around the world may also enjoy it.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must attend a dinner in which will be served parson's noses.

The name Carl Theodor Dreyer may inspire images of slow pans, heavy religious/mystical themes, and somnolent pacing, but it was not always thus. During his apprenticeship at Nordisk in the early '20's Dreyer scripted, edited, and directed all kinds of films. "The Parson's Widow" anticipates themes in the mature Dreyer, namely religion and carnality, but cloaks them in an agreeable, fast-paced (for Dreyer!) silent comedy.

A young parson wins a plum parish in 17th century Norway, but is obliged to marry the widow of his deceased predecessor and pretend his attractive young fiancee is his sister. Dreyer milks the situation for gags but goes for a sentimental finish a la Charlot. The master's touch is apparent in the close-ups of the pastor's would-be rivals and parishioners and a slow pan presaging the 360-degree views in "Vampyr." Amazingly, HIldur Carlsburg in the title role closely resembles Maurice Schutz, the old chatelain in "Vampyr," and the mother-in-law in "Day of Wrath."

All in all, a good film. But it is hard to believe that the director of this pleasant work could produce "La Passion de Jeanne D'Arc" just 6 years later.

In order to take on the previous incumbent's living, a young clergyman has also to take on the deceased man's widow, which is a trifle inconvenient as said parson is in love with another. The parson in question is in also competition with two other 'academic' types who are treated with scorn and ridicule due to the quality (or lack of it) of their sermons. What starts off rather cruelly, with the young lovers waiting for the old woman to die, develops into a moving human story, although it does flag a little in spots. The latter scenes of the widow saying 'good-bye' to her surroundings and people when she feels she is to die soon is particularly moving and powerful. Ironically, life imitated art as Hildur Carlberg, who played the widow, died shortly afterwards, though several of her listed films are fortunately still around. Mathilde Nielsen, who played the tyrannical nurse in Dreyer's Master of the House, plays one of the widow's servants.

Certainly recommended to those fearing an hour or so with Mr Dreyer to be an austere and dreary prospect, this film also has an admirable period feel to it, though some of this is perhaps due to the use of unfamiliar (to me, at least) faces.