Denmark, 1955
Johannes: "I am a bricklayer. I build houses, but nobody lives in them. People prefer to build their own, even though they do not know how. Some of them inhabit half-finished huts, others live in ruins, and most wander homeless. Are you one of those in need of a home?"
Pastor: "No. I am the new pastor. My name is..."
Johannes: "My name is Jesus of Nazareth."
Pastor: "Jesus? But how can you prove that?"
Johannes: "Thou man of faith whose own self lacks faith! People believe in the dead Christ, but not in the living...I have come to bear witness to my Father who is in Heaven and to work miracles."
Pastor: "Miracles no longer happen."
Johannes: "Thus speaks my church on earth, the church that has failed me, that has murdered me in my own name."
When Johannes speaks in Carl Dreyer's "Ordet" ("The Word"), he is best taken literally. The film, based on Kaj Munk's play, never deals with the question of Johannes' insanity. For most viewers, he is obviously mad - few who watch the film will accept that Johannes is Christ incarnate.
They miss the point entirely.
"Ordet" is a film about the Second Coming, in the tradition of Dostoevsky's "The Grand Inquisitor" (its heirs include such recent films as "The Green Mile" and "K-Pax"). From the first scene, the tone is apocalyptic, otherworldly. We see a breezy field of dunes in rural Denmark. Sheep wander about, unwatched. Johannes, who seems to address the whole earth from his dune, speaks with the voice and authority of Revelation 2, in which Christ diagnoses the spiritual condition of his church.
"Ordet" is Dreyer's diagnosis of modernity - what would the Second Coming look like if it occurred today? What business would Christ attend to if he visited the 20th (or 21st) century? You won't find the answer in "The Omega Code," but you just might find it in "Ordet."
Carl Theodore Dreyer is the indisputable master of the Danish cinema - in Scandinavia, only Bergman is his better. One has to look as far as Lars Von Trier to find a Dane of similar eminence, and Von Trier falls hopelessly in Dreyer's shadow. "Ordet" is everywhere in "Breaking the Waves," especially in the portrayal of the closed, fundamentalist community. When Von Trier first attended Cannes, he was wearing Dreyer's tuxedo.
Denmark is the ideal setting for "Ordet." Since the 19th century, the little country had witnessed a clash of secularism and fundamentalism. The Lutheran church, once as powerful as the medieval Papacy, faced the threat of irrelevancy. The teachings of Fichte, Hegel, and Von Schelling presented a worldview apart from traditional Christianity, and soon Copenhagen was afire with German philosophy. Meanwhile, sects of fundamentalist communities broke apart from the church, hoping to survive the onslaught of secularism, not by redefining their doctrines (as so many Lutherans opted to do), but by separating themselves from the world.
Into this environment came Kierkegaard, who is mentioned briefly in "Ordet" (Johannes' insanity is attributed to his fascination with the philosopher). He provided a substitute to the dogmatism of the church, the rigidity of the fundamentalists, and the cold rationalism of the moderns. He declared faith to be the center of human existence, an emphasis on faith stronger than even Martin Luther's - this was the most radical emphasis on faith since Paul.
Faith is precisely what nearly every character in "Ordet" lacks. The film is set in a small Danish village, torn apart by two religious sects (the poor, fundamentalist townsfolk and the rich, more liberal farmers) and speckled with agnostics, atheists, and the unaffiliated. The majority of the film takes place outside the village at Borgensgaard, the prosperous farm of the Borgen family.
This is a family as religiously diverse as the town. Morten Borgen worships God on his own terms (or whichever terms the fundamentalists reject). His oldest son, Mikkel, is a professed agnostic. Mikkel's wife, Inger, is the spiritual adhesive that holds Borgensgaard together - she is the film's spiritual center, the only character with real faith.
The youngest son, Anders, takes no position - he is in love with Anne, the daughter of Peter Skraedder, a fundamentalist. Morton's rejection of Peter's judgmental faith (and Peter's belief that Morton is hell-bound) is the source of great animosity between the families. There is also a Lutheran minister of dry, dogmatic faith and a doctor whose atheism is sharply pronounced.
This dramatis personae encompasses all of modernism, and into this mix walks Johannes, Morton's second son, who claims to be Christ. He is described as "appalling," "pitiful," and "ill." Neither the religious nor irreligious accept that he is Christ. Only Mikkel's young daughter, whose faith allows that her uncle may be the Messiah, takes him literally. The other characters are so entrenched in their beliefs (no matter how legitimate), they have completely lost their faith.
Dreyer makes keen observations on the complexity of human belief using the melodrama of the original play. The liberalism of the Borgens and the fundamentalism of the Skraedders collide when Anders and Anne fall in love. Neither Morton nor Peter wishes to accept the other's child, so blinded are they by their religious beliefs.
Meanwhile, Inger's turbulent pregnancy is a challenge tp Mikkel's spiritual complacency. Both the minister and the doctor vie for his heart and mind - the minister offers hope, while the doctor offers realism. Neither satisfy Mikkel's doubts - this is a man in desperate need of faith.
The first half of the film is essentially plotless. We watch stubborn (but charming) characters interact with one another, usually indoors, locked in self-contained, self-preserving interiors. These interiors are shot in the most stunning black-and-white photography ever used in a motion picture. The significance of the photography is muched debated - if nothing else, it underlines the contrast between these diverse individuals.
Dreyer's trademark pacing is slow and steady; his takes are long and fluid. Nothing prepares us for the tragedy about to unfold.
This tragedy involves a key character's death. Each of the survivors is forced to confront this death according to their own lack of faith. The message here is so damning it seems unreal: absence of faith leads inevitably to death.
"Ordet" is shocking in the unflinching manner it presents its message, not hiding behind simile or symbolism. Lack of faith is not only a disease, it is a fatal disease. While our age may not lack hope nor love, it is almost entirely without faith. The hopelessness of this condition is powerfully expressed in the last scene, where even the religious cannot console the bereaved. Only with faith is victory over death attainable.
Throughout his career (which yielded 22 films), Dreyer explored Christianity more than any filmmaker in history. Along with "Ordet," he made "Day of Wrath," "Gertrud," and "La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc." Although he never declared himself a believer, he was tantalized by the story of Christ - his greatest dream was to make a film based on the Gospels. He never achieved this dream, but in "Ordet" he managed to give the most honest, original, and accurate portrayal of Christ ever committed to the screen.
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For more on Dreyer's "Ordet," read Darren Hughes' Long Pauses essay, as well as the Chris Fujiwara essay featured in the Criterion DVD of "Ordet."
