Ingeborg Holm (1913)
Directed by Victor Sjöström

Film Review

Victor Sjöström, one of Sweden's leading film directors during its brief but stunning 'golden age', is best remembered for his late masterpieces, The Phantom Carriage (1921) and The Wind (1928), but his early films are just as worthy of attention for their authenticity and technical innovation.  Made in 1913, Ingeborg Holm (a.k.a. Margaret Day) was one of Sjöström's earliest films, a harsh but intensely poignant social drama that offered the most heartfelt condemnation of the lack of social provision in Sweden of the 1910s.  The film provoked a far-reaching debate in the country that led to a substantial reform of the poor laws, paving the way for the introduction of a system of social security which many other countries around the world ended up emulating.

Sjöström's films are distinguished by an unerring sense of realism, which arises from authentic character portrayals and the use of natural locations, primarily the raw Swedish landscape, to define the protagonists and anchor them in what is instantly recognisable as everyday reality.  The opening sequences in Ingeborg Holm depicting happy scenes of family life are indistinguishable from documentary, with small children wandering about the set like stray kittens, seemingly oblivious to the fact they are in a film.  Sjöström conceals the story's theatrical origins admirably (it is taken from a play written seven years earlier by Nils Krok) and even in its most melodramatic moments thse film never ceases to be staggeringly truthful, a template for social realist dramas of subsequent decades.

The film owes much of its authenticity to the lead actress Hilda Borgström.  Her compelling portrayal of the eponymous mother, whose life is completely ripped to shreds by a series of personal misfortunes, is a master-class in subtlety and restraint for a film of this era.  One sequence that stands out is the one in which Ingeborg is separated from her eldest son.  As the boy is taken away by his foster mother, leaving his mother standing disconsolate at the entrance of the workhouse that has become her life's prison, he can barely avoid turning away from her.  To spare her son pain, the wretched mother rushes into the building as soon as his back is turned.  The son turns again, but his mother has gone, so he allows himself to be led away.  The moment he has passed through the gates, Ingeborg steps back outside, hoping to catch a last glimpse of her son, but he is gone.  The emotion of the parting finally overwhelms the mother and she collapses in a dead faint.  It is hard to recall a film in which there is a scene of such naked poignancy as this.

The power of Ingeborg Holm comes not from its incredibly moving story but from Sjöström's doggedly simple rendering of it.  There is none of the rhythmic editing or aggressive crosscutting that the director employs on later films.  There aren't even any close-ups or tracking shots.  The whole film consists of long static takes which create a kind of Bretchtian separation between the spectator and the protagonists, something that can only heighten the emotional experience of watching the film.  Had the film been made in Hollywood a few years later it would doubtless have employed all the devices available to tease out as much emotionality as possible - long, lingering close-ups, overly sentimental music, excessively maudlin dialogue, etc.  The result would have been synthetic mush, with none of the genuine, heart-wrenching poignancy that Sjöström manages to pour into every frame of his film.  Ingeborg Holm is effective because it is so brazenly simple, and today's filmmakers can learn a great deal from how this masterpiece of cinematic understatement gently works on our feelings and compels us to share the unimaginable emotional journey of a woman who loses everything that is dear to her.  The film deserves to be embraced as one of the landmarks of the silent era, for it is surely one that will break your heart.

Film Synopsis

Sven and Ingeborg Holm are a happily married couple with three young children.  By scrimping and scraping they have saved enough money so that, with the help of a loan, they can open a small grocer's shop in Stockholm.  Just when things are going so well disaster strikes.  Sven suffers a pulmonary haemorrhage and becomes bedridden.  A short while later he dies, and Ingeborg's attempts to keep the shop going end in dismal failure.  Unable to work because of a stomach ulcer, Ingeborg turns to the poorhouse for help.  Her only option is to sell everything she has, give her children away to foster families and take up permanent residence in the poorhouse.  Later, the manager of the poorhouse receives a letter from the foster parents of Ingeborg's daughter Valborg notifying him that the little girl has fallen seriously ill.  When she learns that the manager has no intention of paying for Valborg's medical treatment, Ingeborg escapes from the poorhouse and attempts to reach her daughter.  She arrives too late and ends up being taken back to the poorhouse by the police.  Some time later, Ingeborg is allowed to see her youngest son, but he fails to recognise her.  This last calamity drives the young woman out of her mind...