Black DeathIn the middle of the 14th century, Europe was ravaged by an outbreak of one of the worst pandemics ever known, the bubonic plague--more grimly known as the "black death". It slew twenty-five million--the equivalent of about half of Europe at that time--and the nature of its source and transmission was beyond our understanding in that age. Among speculation as to the origins of such a catastrophic pestilence was that it the divine punishment of God; still others believed that the plague was the result of other forces, like the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn. As fear swept the continent, people persecuted one another, blamed one another on the merits of their belief.
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Black Death is a dramatization of the terrifying days of sickness and darkness sweeping over mankind, and the kind of gripping fervor which stirs in men's and women's hearts in such a tribulation. The film is often grim and dour, and while it does not balk at violence, it manages to avoid the kind of gratuitousness which would classify the film superficially as a "horror" film. The real horror in Black Death is in how it stirs our own estimations of beliefs, how we view those who subscribe so fervently to their convictions, that they are blind, indifferent, or show abject disregard to those who do not agree with them. The film deals with a party of warriors, commissioned by a bishop, to find an obscure village where the plague has not left its touch, and also find the proof to rumors of a necromancer or demon there. The village is not only availed of the disease, but its spokeswoman proclaims that their village is a pagan one, and that they do not believe in God. The party leader and leader of the village are Ulric and Langiva, played by Sean Bean and Carice van Houten, respectively; Game of Thrones fans should be interested to find that Ulric is a hardened warrior dominated by his stoic conviction and Langiva is a seductive, witchy woman, who enthralls men with the promise of their heart's desire. Caught in the middle of this theological tug-of-war is Osmund (Eddie Redmayne), a young monk who has joined up with the party as a guide, secretly hoping to reunite with his secret love, Averill (Kimberley Nixon), along the way, whom he had sent away from the monastery after an outbreak of the plague left him quarantined. Black Death is a deceptive film, which may be surprising for one at first glance which appears to be an action-focused cross between The Seventh Seal and The Wicker Man. The film establishes Osmund as our avatar into this bleak and unfriendly reflection of the past; he is a man of God, but he is merciful, loving, and even brave. When Ulric and company arrive at the village, his reaction is one of tolerance, rather than disdain, even when made aware of their paganism. And this is where the clever, leperous distilment of the piece works its venomous machinations on us, because it is Osmund's tolerance and his willingness to allow Langiva to get her hooks into him by displaying the powers she claims to possess, that our own view gets warped and wended.
From the start, Black Death is keen on manipulating our perception to make us think with on our prejudices first, coloring the scenes and turning our expectations against us. Our impressions of Ulric's company of warriors--some men of faith, some mercenaries--is that they are all intensely fearsome. In fact, it may just be me, but each of them at a glance reminds me of some villain from other medieval-era action films--Ivo (Tygo Gernandt) looks a bit like Aguirre from Aguirre, the Wrath of God, and something about Wolfstan (John Lynch) reminds me a bit of Count Rugen of The Princess Bride. When Osmund gets a look at the elaborate torture device they have brought with them, he is convinced that they are butchers rather than men of God--his only expression reflecting this is in his hinting that Ulric brought him under false pretenses, one which is met only with a terse reply. Death surrounds these hardened men, skilled in battle, though some are either taciturn or suspicious outside of combat; they are not endearing in the social sense of the word. Compare their manner with that of the villagers, ostensibly separated from the outside world; the villagers appear to welcome the warriors, offer to tend their wounds, feed them, give them shelter. Our first impressions of the apparent spokeman of the village, Hob (Tim McInnerny), is one of a genial and warm man. Langiva dresses Osmund's wound most effectively--one which the warriors completely overlooked--even though she expresses disdain at the idea of Christian guests in confidence to him; she claims that her husband was killed by "men like them". Our perceptions and judgments are manipulated just as Osmund's are; we reach conclusions based on superficial information, like what we do every day when we read or watch the news or other social media, coloring our world instead of clarifying it like it should. The underlying conflict of Black Death is not that religion (or lack thereof) is bad, but that those who practice their lifestyles with the intention of inflicting harm on others are. The message is that hate is contagious--a plague itself. This is where Osmund finds himself; he isn't looking to become a hateful person, but he is baptized in the fetid swamp of hatred, leeching the mercy away from him, as he strives to cling to his soul to stay afloat. His trust and perceptions are tested and weighed, and he finds what he thought he knew was far from the only view, right or wrong.
Recommended for: Fans of a dark, medieval action film, which also challenges viewers to consider how people who shout their beliefs the loudest might also be doing it as the angriest and most afraid, and how your first impressions of someone may often turn back on you.
From the start, Black Death is keen on manipulating our perception to make us think with on our prejudices first, coloring the scenes and turning our expectations against us. Our impressions of Ulric's company of warriors--some men of faith, some mercenaries--is that they are all intensely fearsome. In fact, it may just be me, but each of them at a glance reminds me of some villain from other medieval-era action films--Ivo (Tygo Gernandt) looks a bit like Aguirre from Aguirre, the Wrath of God, and something about Wolfstan (John Lynch) reminds me a bit of Count Rugen of The Princess Bride. When Osmund gets a look at the elaborate torture device they have brought with them, he is convinced that they are butchers rather than men of God--his only expression reflecting this is in his hinting that Ulric brought him under false pretenses, one which is met only with a terse reply. Death surrounds these hardened men, skilled in battle, though some are either taciturn or suspicious outside of combat; they are not endearing in the social sense of the word. Compare their manner with that of the villagers, ostensibly separated from the outside world; the villagers appear to welcome the warriors, offer to tend their wounds, feed them, give them shelter. Our first impressions of the apparent spokeman of the village, Hob (Tim McInnerny), is one of a genial and warm man. Langiva dresses Osmund's wound most effectively--one which the warriors completely overlooked--even though she expresses disdain at the idea of Christian guests in confidence to him; she claims that her husband was killed by "men like them". Our perceptions and judgments are manipulated just as Osmund's are; we reach conclusions based on superficial information, like what we do every day when we read or watch the news or other social media, coloring our world instead of clarifying it like it should. The underlying conflict of Black Death is not that religion (or lack thereof) is bad, but that those who practice their lifestyles with the intention of inflicting harm on others are. The message is that hate is contagious--a plague itself. This is where Osmund finds himself; he isn't looking to become a hateful person, but he is baptized in the fetid swamp of hatred, leeching the mercy away from him, as he strives to cling to his soul to stay afloat. His trust and perceptions are tested and weighed, and he finds what he thought he knew was far from the only view, right or wrong.
Recommended for: Fans of a dark, medieval action film, which also challenges viewers to consider how people who shout their beliefs the loudest might also be doing it as the angriest and most afraid, and how your first impressions of someone may often turn back on you.