Le trésor d'Arne

As a title in film history books, Sir Arne's Treasure always seemed like it must fall somewhere between Die Nibelungen and Ivanhoe-- an epic knightish adventure with a heavier Scandinavian feel. In fact it's a tale of guilt and doom in the classic Swedish mode, almost a chamber piece despite its grandiose division into five acts, set in an historical setting but with some of the same distilled focus and sense of inevitability as, to pick a recent example, Cronenberg's A History of Violence.

Three Scottish mercenaries (the main one, incongruously, given the jaunty name "Sir Archie"; happily his compatriots are not Sir Reggie and Sir Jughead) escape from captivity in 16th century Sweden and, driven half-mad by the winter winds and starvation, wind up slaughtering the entire household of a local lord for his treasure. Only one young, Lillian Gish-like girl, Elsalill, who hides herself during the crime, escapes-- but, being Swedish, is consumed by survivor's guilt.

This being one of those stories (like Crash or Dickens' Bleak House) where there are only eight different people in the entire country, the three, newly kitted out in finery, return to the scene of the crime and Sir Archie promptly falls in love with the survivor of his depredations and starts having guilt of his own. I'm betting you can pretty much guess how that's going to work out for the gloomy couple.

The initial acts of Sir Arne's Treasure take a little mental adjustment, as there's what we might call a high Guy Maddin quotient here, of over-the-top Nordic gloom-- the old crone (Mrs. Sir Arne) repeatedly shrieking "Why are they sharpening the knives at Brorhaven?" at the dinner table, the use of the phrase "fish wench" in a title, or a ship captain who believes that his ship is frozen in ice as God's punishment for some big crime he can't QUITE put his finger on.... The latter in particular shows the heavily moralistic hand of Selma Lagerlof (who also wrote Gosta Berling, The Phantom Chariot, etc.), who was good at setting up ripping plot mechanics but tended to impose a Victorian religious sensibility which you don't see in the best Swedish films, such as Sjostrom's The Outlaw and His Wife.

While there's a stark, In Cold Blood-like quality to the depiction of these violent events in a remote, snowbound location, we're impressed by the dramatic quality of the events themselves, not by any human sympathy that has particularly been built up for the characters to that point. And it is easy to see why distributors in other countries succumbed to the temptation to trim the film down, as Stiller allows many of the events to play out in real time, even when relatively little is going on.

It's when the film narrows its focus to the two main characters and their guilt-racked interactions that Stiller's deliberate storytelling begins to really justify itself-- the film is like the long walk to the electric chair in a Cagney movie from that point on, and the minutely detailed depiction of everyday activities not only makes the historical setting seem vividly real, but serves to cut off the possibility of outlandish movie-style heroics which will bring the story to any end other than the inevitable tragic one (which, nevertheless, contains a couple of shocking turns which wouldn't have passed muster for Errol Flynn at Warner Brothers in 1938).

Mention must be made (as theater reviewers say when they can't think of a better transition) of the cinematography of Julius Jaenzon, who pretty much shot everything that was anything in Swedish silent cinema. The word inevitably attached to Jaenzon's work is "landscape," which is to say, he and Stiller and Sjostrom were all masterful at using the forbidding country they lived in to help set the emotional tone of their scenes. When they want you to feel that someone's lonely, they stick him out walking on an icy fjord and by God, he's LONELY.

Also, as we all know, the moving camera as an expressive device (rather than just a way of showing off your fancy set, as in Intolerance) wasn't invented until The Last Laugh in 1924, so we can all throw out those pages of our film history books since one of the most striking things about this film is the extensive use of the moving camera throughout. Since the moving camera tends to imply the presence of the director and thus to deny the possibility of free will for the characters (which is why it works so well in things like noirs, or Max Ophuls' adaptations of Schnitzler, or Kubrick movies about unstable hotel caretakers being taken over by malevolent ghosts), it's a perfect artistic choice for this story, and one that strongly reinforces the atmosphere of destiny and doom while also keeping our focus on the mental state of characters who remain front and center within the shot, rather than on how they physically move from one place to another within a shot.

One is given to understand that painstaking efforts were undertaken to restore the film based on multiple surviving prints, and that endeavor paid off handsomely. If you can find just such a restoration to enjoy, then you will be greeted with 'Sir Arne's treasure' in all its silent splendor. It's not just that it's well made, and arguably just about as strong in its craftsmanship as any title to follow for years to come, even after the advent of talkies. There's also a wonderful finesse and subtlety to many aspects that well exceeds what one might suppose of early cinema. This applies to the terrific cinematography of Julius Jaenzon, as sharp and smart as he has illustrated elsewhere (such as with Victor Sjöström's 'A man there was' or 'The outlaw and his wife'), and possibly one of the chief highlights of this picture as it proves to be surprisingly dynamic and frankly rather advanced for 1919. The film editing is no less keen, and filmmaker Mauritz Stiller demonstrates firm command of the medium in orchestrating shots and scenes, a task made easier by a fine cast who all demonstrate commendable skill; of everyone, Mary Johnson stands out with an especially adept performance as Elsalill. Why, if film awards existed so early in the medium's history I'm quite sure Johnson and Jaenzon both would be surefire winners for their contributions here.

'Sir Arne's treasure' is certainly well-made in other regards, too. The filming locations are lovely, and more than this, the production design is outstanding. Still more admirable might be the costume design - no matter where one casts their gaze at any given point, the visual presentation is dazzlingly rich with detail. True, one might assume this of the silent era, where visuals were all important, but not all are equal across the board, and this surely counts among the greatest exemplars. Even the tinting applied to the film stock to indicate interior, exterior, or extreme conditions at the climax shows a splendid attentiveness that not all contemporary titles could claim. And overall, the adapted screenplay penned between Stiller and Gustaf Molander is fantastic, serving up a tragic but compelling narrative, and even more robust scene writing by which the tableau is assembled piece by piece. I don't think it's unfair to say that some scenes are sturdier as written than others, but by and large the result is so excellent that the feature becomes a classic of Swedish cinema, well worth remembering and exploring, and unreservedly deserving of such tremendous restoration.

It's not all good news. There's an awkward precision to how some moments are executed that butts against suspension of disbelief, even in matters as small as the exact timing of when characters happen to overhear another conversation. While I understand that 'Sir Arne's treasure' was adapted from a novel of some years prior, I wonder if the feature isn't a little too overfull of intertitles generally, and specifically those that relate exposition; had some reduced their verbiage, or been cut outright, the film may have had better narrative flow. To that point, I think the title is also bad at conveying the passage of time, and in some cases the plot progresses with a choppy Just So sensibility, declining connective threads, that further chips away at suspension of disbelief. There are aspects of the tale that one can only take at face value, as thinking too hard about the proceedings as they present raises meddling questions, and this is not even taking into account the light supernatural elements (that I gather are heavier in the source material). I can appreciate that some modern viewers have a hard time abiding silent movies - I would have said as much about myself at one time - and for as well made as it broadly is, I don't think this is a production that would change anyone's mind. Sadly, I'm also forced to ponder the reality of how some moments were captured, above all a scene with a horse that looks a lot to me like abject animal cruelty; I hope I'm mistaken.

Still, though the picture may fall short of perfect, ultimately its faults aren't so severe a detraction as to substantially diminish its value. I wish the narrative as we see it boasted greater flow, clarity, and connectivity, yet nonetheless it's complete, cohesive, and more solid than not. And when one then takes into account how fabulously strong 'Sir Arne's treasure' is in other regards, I ponder if I'm not being too harsh in the first place. Much more than not this is marvelous, a movie that anyone enamored of older cinema should make a point of watching at some point. If it isn't absolutely beyond critique, well, what is? I don't know that I'd say it's entirely an essential must-see, but it's well worth checking out if one has the opportunity, and its place in the annals of cultural history is very much earned.

I have two favorite silent films, "The Penalty" (1920) with Lon Chaney, Sr. and "Herr Arnes pengar" ("Sir Arne's Treasure") (1919), a Swedish film directed by Mauritz Stiller. I again watched "Sir Arne's Treasure" (1919) with Richard Lund, Erik Stocklassa, Bror Berger, Mary Johnson, Axel Nilsson, Hjalmar Selander, Concordia Selander, Gösta Gustafson, and many others. Based on the novel The Treasure by Selma Lagerlöf, this explores Scottish mercenary soldiers during the sixteenth century going to Sweden during the reign of King Johan III who throws them out of the realm for conspiratorial behavior undermining the Swedish army. Three officers are put into prison, Sir Archi, Sir Filip, and Sir Donald. They escape and brutally murder a number of guards in their escape. After some time, famished and freezing in the gripping icy and snowy winter weather, they enter a home and take food and lots and lots of drink... Drunken and wild with cold, the three go to a monastery where the head, Sir Arne, has his family and relatives and...a very heavy and full chest of silver coins, a collection supposedly taken from other monasteries by Sir Arne over time and greedily kept where he now is. The three kill all but one girl, the foster sister of another who was stabbed through the heart by a wild and drunken Sir Archi... The one survivor is Elsalill (Johnson)... She's found by others while the monastery burns to the ground, taken to live with distant relatives who can barely afford to keep her. Eventually, she meets Sir Archi, still around and trying to find a way back to Scotland; and she falls in love with him - and he with her... The story progresses from here to a foregone ending that has to be tragic.

Told nearly in a Shakespearean manner, the story is magnificently moved forward by Stiller, acted nearly perfectly, and the photography is some of the finest in all silent film. Tinted and toned in hues that amplify the cold and winter weather, the hardship that existed in the sixteenth century, and the natural toughness of the characters who lived in these harsh conditions, the story also contains an overlying superstitious faith that plays constantly into the goings-on.

The mise-en-scene is equal to any that has ever been done and which tries to capture the harsh conditions of winter weather in Sweden and the type of living conditions that existed during the sixteenth century. The buildings, down to the types of doors and how they fitted, the furnishings within, the outbuildings, the iciness and slipperiness of snow as horses proceed in the weather - just everything...is done with a studied precision that is stupefying for a 1919 film.

I have the Kino release, a 107 minute print of what was a 122 minute release. To understand the greatness of silent film, this film should be on everybody's watch list. For me, this film gets better and better with each viewing!

A Scottish mercenary falls in love with the foster sister of the girl he murdered while stealing a clergyman's hoard of silver coins. A beautiful, dreamlike tale set in the frigid beauty of the snowswept landscape of rural Sweden. The characters in director Mauritz Stiller's haunting saga drift inexorably towards their tragic fates like leaves on a river. Powerful stuff.

As far as I can tell, this is the first Swedish Silent that I've watched (I'd previously been intrigued by a solitary still – actually used for the DVD sleeve itself – found in "The Movie", a British periodical from the early 1980s); I've seen a handful of early efforts from neighboring Denmark – and the aesthetic starkness in the predominant style of both countries is pretty similar. It's also the first from Swedish master Stiller (I also own his two other well-known titles, EROTIKON [1920] and THE SAGA OF GOSTA BERLING [1924], that were released on DVD from Kino – and I may very well include the latter in my current Epic/Historical films schedule); incidentally, I've only checked out – and was duly impressed by – two American-made pictures from Victor Sjostrom, the other great director to emanate from this country during the Silent era.

SIR ARNE'S TREASURE is best described as a historical melodrama – since the elements typically expected of an epic only really come into play in the scenes involving a fire early on and a sword-fight towards the end. However, one shouldn't overlook the vast and forbidding icy landscape which not only serves as an extremely realistic backdrop to the narrative – incidentally, the quality of the cinematography throughout likens the film to an uninterrupted series of medieval tableaux – but is very much another character in it, since the villains' flight (the perpetrators of a massacre in a household, from which they also abscond with the titular fortune) is prohibited because the sea has frozen over! Notable scenes here include: a cart-wheeling horse falling head-first through cracked ice; the youngest of the thieves having ghostly visions of one of his murdered victims (as it happens, he later falls for the girl's sister…and she with him, which leads to the latter being torn whether to give her lover away or run off with him to Scotland!); the leading man ultimately using the heroine as a human shield against the oncoming soldiers; the closing procession over the ice by the townsfolk to reclaim the girl's dead body (justly considered one of the visual highlights in all of Silent cinema).

The plot also effectively incorporates the element of premonition – such as when the fish-hawker's usually docile canine companion senses impending doom and starts to howl, Sir Arne's wife literally hearing from miles away the preparations for the subsequent assault on her abode, the ship captain's tale of a previous case of poetic justice similarly brought on by severe weather conditions, and the heroine being led by her dead sister to the villains' whereabouts in a dream. The print I watched featured nice use of blue (for outdoor night-time scenes) and red (the afore-mentioned blaze) tinting; the newly-composed accompanying score is appropriately sweeping, albeit making use of mostly modern instruments. The main extras on the Kino DVD involve noted film historian Peter Cowie, who supplies an informative background to early Swedish cinema (where he also discusses the seminal contribution of authoress Selma Lagerlof – who was behind the source novel of both this and THE SAGA OF GOSTA BERLING) and, in a separate featurette, focuses exclusively on the film at hand.