Swedish filmmaker Jan Troell’s categoricalpièces-de-résistance, a diptych, 7-hours long saga based on his fellow countryman, the literature titan Vilhelm Moberg’s THE EMIGRANTS ensemble.

Divided into THE EMIGRANTS and THE NEW LAND, this 19th-century epic holds a dear look at the travails of an ordinary Swedish household, the Nilsson family, resides in the Sm?land hinterland, when (mostly natural) adversity mounts against their livelihood, the eldest son Karl Oskar (von Sydow) mulls over the prospect of emigrating to the United States. A proposition deprecated by his wife Kristina (Ullmann) initially, but when poverty and hunger is aggravated by the premature death of one of their brood, she eventually accedes, joining their emigrating pack are Karl Oskar’syounger brother Robert (Axberg), his farmhand friend Arvid (Lindstedt), the family of Kristina’s uncle Pastor Daniel Andreasson (Edwall, a straight-up hard-hitter, brilliantly bringing about an air of smug virtuosity that treacherously verges on hubris), who is at loggerheads with the supercilious local parish clergy for preaching to the fallen ones (viz. those who are deemed not worthy of Christian gospel), among whom a former prostitute Ulrika (jazz chanteuseMonica Zetterlund), now a reborn woman, also partakes in the trek with her teenage daughter Elin (played by Monica's own daughter Eva-Lena Zetterlund).

THE EMIGRANTS itself can be bisected into two halves, before and after the family’s embarkment for the state of Freedom, during the former, Troell introduces the hardship and inequity (religious parochialism and mistreatment) with a pastoral equanimity (occasionally lard with invigorating drumbeats) and purveys his main characters with sufficient impetus for their longing for a reset button in an idealized country where everyone is (purportedly) being treated equally and fairly, especially for the young Robert, it is the California gold rush beckons him, and supports him against the cavalier abuse he receives on a daily base when working as a farmhand.

Once their journey kick-starts, a looming nostalgia begins to sweep the cohort, Troell (who is also presiding over the cinematography department) fixes the valediction shot with a subdued solemnity, no goodbyes, tear-infused eyes, lingering looks are deployed, just a long-shot of the elderly parents seeing their children off in front of their house, incorporating the place into their final adieu, and the impact is ineffable.

Tellingly, THE EMIGRANTS' most accomplished passage is theten-weeks trans-Atlantic voyageon a wooden brig, and Troell valiantly re-enacts its sordid state of affairs with swingeing maritime verisimilitude when most passengers are fallen victims of sea-sick, life is snuffed within a two-by-four space, by scurvy or even quinsy (a pertinent reference to today’s illegal immigrants’ ordeal on the sea). Here Liv Ullmann holds court in two magnificent scenes, one is Kristina'saltercation with Ulrika, both actress are emotively unsparing, and letting out their prejudice and retorts once for all, which also presciently serves as a catalyst for their eventually best-friends transition; the other is when Kristina, apparently in extremis, exchanges with Karl Oskar their fondness, as if for the last time, by confessing that they are each other’s best friends, a superlative affirmation that true love does exist thanks to the two players’ most poignant delivery.

Once the survivors touches the terra firma but incognita, they are still miles away from where they will start life anew, hopping on the train and later a steamer, than on foot, when they finally reach their destination in Minnesota, their first dream is dashed by a boastful liar who never expect his lie will be debunked in his face, and THE EMIGRANTS finishes when Karl Oskar finds their new land under their new identities, American homesteaders.

Right picking up where its predecessor leaves,THE NEW LAND takes place entirely in the new land, where the Swedish emigrants forming a somewhat enclave, mostly living among themselves, which brings about a problematic issue about the story’s sense of locality and Troell’s inaction of alleviate this anonymity, if it is not for the random appearances of the indigenous Indians, one can safely surmise that the household is still live in their homeland, with very similar sylvan exuberance and harsh winter-time, and not much foreignness to interact with, in a way, it takes the shine off one of the story’s focal points: displacement.

Yet, what THE NEW LAND excels in, is that oater flashback of Robert, who manages to stay alive just long enough after a futile gold-digging attempt with Arvid, a sounding slap in the face to the wide-eyed daydreamers, the pair is saddled with the same drudgery and hardship (not to mention Robert'spotluck is rooked by deception)that ultimate will cost them both their young lives, here Troell launches a more hallucinogenic experiment in accentuating the pair’s delirium and exhaustion when wandering in the desert, to admirable effect.Eddie Axberg has weathered convincingly in honing up Robert’s tale of woe, and his final resignation with fate effectually brings a lump in one’s throat.

Life goes on, as Karl Oskar’s household finally prospers, a God-fearing Kristina turns out to be benighted enough to risk her own life for the sake of procreation, indoctrinated as a wife’s sacrosanct duty, even after receiving the doctor’s warning that another pregnancy would become her undoing, together with a less disinterested depiction of a wanton slaughter during the Sioux Uprising, by suggestion that it is at the expense of those white homesteaders’ hospitality upon which the Indians conducts their retaliation, THE NEW LAND’s luster starts to ebb away, notwithstanding a show-stopping Max von Sydow consistently radiates with plebeian bonhomie, sympathy and mettle from stem to stern of the entire roman-fleuve.

referential film: Ingmar Bergman’s FANNY AND ALEXANDER (1982, 8.5/10).

上周第一次嘗試了港村三俗之wakesurfing。開船的教練曬得油光锃亮，像一只走地雞，肌肉上覆蓋著一層鮮美肥油。每次他趴在船尾調(diào)整造浪機(jī)，我都強(qiáng)忍伸手撓他腳底板的沖動(dòng)（怕他踹我）。其實(shí)他全程只是在船上大喊大叫，并沒有下水，我心想沒準(zhǔn)他也是裝的他根本就不會(huì)呢。

大海灌進(jìn)我的鼻子和腦子里，好咸，晚餐少吃點(diǎn)鹽。當(dāng)晚我熄燈躺下，還覺得床在我身下微微搖擺起伏，好像這張兩百塊的二手床墊正帶著我在吐露港漂流。

想起之前看揚(yáng)特洛爾的《大移民》，瑞典農(nóng)民為了逃荒乘船遷往明尼蘇達(dá)。麗芙烏曼演的大美女農(nóng)婦，在空氣污濁的船艙里染上敗血癥、生了虱子。十周后船終于抵達(dá)，她迫不及待地在藍(lán)天和草地之間躺下，希望在堅(jiān)實(shí)的陸地上得到片刻休息。

然而她剛閉上眼，就感到大地在自己身下如水起伏，風(fēng)吹草地掀起陣陣海浪聲。她立刻呼吸急促，只有緊緊抓住身側(cè)的草皮尋求安慰，提醒自己已經(jīng)著陸。