La quatrième alliance de Dame Marguerite

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.

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.

Over the mountain wander Sofren and Mari. Sofren is a student of theology come to apply for the vacant position of parson in this rural Norwegian village. Mari is his fiancée, but not yet his wife because her father won't allow it until he becomes a real parson. Luckily for him, his two competitors from Copenhagen aren't particularly up to the task. The first looks like a cross between John Lennon and Bill Gates and bores his audience to sleep, so much so that even the man tasked with keeping everyone awake drops off; and the other is a bloated fool who keeps them amused only because Sofren has stuck a feather to the back of his head.

So Sofren it is: the five bearded elders tasked with the decision don't have much of a task after all, given that he's young and dynamic and can think on his feet. However, there's a catch, for there must always be a catch. The local custom is that the parson's widow comes with the job. This wasn't for any religious reason, merely a practical one because someone has to take care of her, after all, but this particular parson's widow, Dame Margarete Pedersdotter, has outlasted the previous three parsons only to be handed over each time to their successors 'like a piece of furniture'.

And just as Sofren had no problem outsmarting his rivals, who run for the hills the moment they see Dame Margarete anyway, the parson's widow outsmarts Sofren. Eager to retain her position running the parson's house, she persuades him subtly to propose. There's mention that she may be a witch but she really accomplishes it with a herring and a bottle of schnapps. So Sofren becomes the parson and Dame Margarete becomes the parson's wife once more, mistress of her whole domain. And with this setup, with Mari introduced into the mix as Sofren's sister rather than his fiancée, naturally hilarity ensues.

Well hilarity is a strong term, given that this is a Swedish silent film from 1920 and a Carl Theodor Dreyer movie to boot, but it's a lot closer to hilarity than I'd have ever imagined for one of his films. I've seen a lot of them, having been utterly stunned by The Passion of Joan of Arc and fascinated into finding as much of the rest of his work that I could. This was the second film Dreyer directed, but the eighth of his fourteen feature length movies for me. It's the first to invoke laughter, which comes about mostly in a subtle way but with some stooping to pantomime, such as the scenes where Sofren prances around in an elaborate Satan suit after he becomes convinced that his wife is a witch.

It's constructed well, with strong performances and memorable characters, varied shots and varied expectations. It looks good, whether inside or out, and there's a lot of use of the common silent film masking technique that turns the screen into a small circle to highlight what we should be looking at. As would fit a story built around a folk custom, there's a great deal here that speaks to customs and folklore, from dances to rituals to beliefs. Quite which Scandinavian culture or cultures this applies to, I'm not sure, given that it's a Swedish film set in Norway but based on a Danish story, but they're fascinating.

And backing up Dreyer's direction, Dreyer being a man who controlled his films as surely as Dame Margarete controls her household, are a number of memorable performances. Einar Röd plays Sofren as something of an imp. We rarely see him in church, this being one of the least religious religious films I've ever seen. Instead we watch him try all sorts of hare brained schemes to try to see his Mari, always coming up short but learning something in the process, there very much being a lesson here in and amidst the comedy. Greta Almroth is a wholesome but frustrated Mari, reminding a little of Elsa Lanchester.

Best of all is Hildur Carlberg as Dame Margarete, dominant throughout but always human. Born as far back as 1843, she was 76 when she made this film, her third and last. With a memorable face with many lines showing her age and a memorable gait that would have made her a prime candidate for a major role in a zombie movie, it's sad that she wouldn't make any more. She died two months before this film was released. I wonder if they nailed a horseshoe above her door and sprinkled linseed oil on the ground to ensure she didn't come back to haunt her house.

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.

I haven't seen Carl Theodor Dreyer's directorial début, "The President" (Præsidenten), yet. I've seen "Leaves from Satan's Book" (Blade af Satans Bog), however, and it was totally unimpressive. Dreyer took from Griffith's "Intolerance", but didn't even manage a simulacrum of the American director's craft. "The Parson's Widow" is a much better beginning for Denmark's great filmmaker. It is the work of a director coming into his own, even though it's much different in some ways from the rest of his oeuvre.

As with "Leaves from Satan's Book" and his later films, there's the preoccupation with history and religion. But, as others agree, this is Dreyer light. The story of a man who must marry a hag to become a village's parson, and his plots to marry his young fiancée and keep the job despite it is amusing. I thought the devil costume bit was particularly humorous. Dreyer's direction is what makes this worthwhile, though. The quick pace, not lingering on shots and improved camera positioning compared to "Leaves from Satan's Book" make this film more accessible and entertaining.

Dreyer again uses masking and fades extensively, but this time it adds to the style. He gets the most out of the actors. (It shouldn't be underestimated how quicker shot succession can improve, or detract from, otherwise unremarkable acting.) Additionally, the introduction to the past through the waterfall was an especially nice touch. The confining location sets, and more importantly, how Dreyer and cinematographer George Schnéevoigt film them also add greatly to this tightly told film. The small church full of dividers is just a great find, and they use the spaces of the home of the parson's wife very well, with camera placement and continuity editing.