Whenever I’m getting a bit ungrateful for the 21st century life I live, I watch a period piece like this—I wouldn’t last two seconds in these characters’ shoes. While I’m complaining about my roommate turning up the thermostat two degrees, these guys are sleeping in vomit at the bottom of a boat and throwing their dead baby overboard.
I’ve been conditioned by Bergman to expect something more intellectual and theme-oriented from Swedish cinema of this time period, but I was surprised to find that Troell focuses almost entirely on the sensual. The more famous Swede used imagery of hands, lips, etc in service of a larger goal (for example, examining a loss of faith), while in The Emigrants, it’s these images themselves that the movie is about. Granted, it does touch on marital relationships, faith, class, and more, but that is all ancillary to the experiential nature of the film. Above all else, it’s about the taste of hot potatoes and old fish, the smell of seawater and urine, the feel of the frayed ends of a blanket. Reminded me in many ways of Béla Tarr’s The Turin Horse, not only for its similar affinity for close-ups of people messily (desperately) eating. I look forward to exploring further the character dynamics and narrative development (especially in regards to the priest; that dude goes through a lot)—this time I was just struck by the film’s pure sensuality.