When I first saw acclaimed international art director Ingmar Bergman’s whack at a horror film, I really liked it. Hour of the Wolf had the intensity, the adept composition and assembly of striking images, the remarkably modulated performances and of course the thematic penetration to which I was accustomed and which I expected from this source. Plus, it was actually scary, which is something you don’t often find when you’re a jaded old horror film roué.
I watched again. All those things from above are in place. You should probably try it out. (As always, mind, you might want to check your parents’ guide.) But this time it gets on my nerves! And Himself as well. Yes, this is beautifully shot, and superbly acted, and effectively staged. That is some party sequence! Effective climax. “It’s just my jealousy.” Man! But while giving a nod to the decent Tesmans and Elvsteds of the world, it starts to look like Bergman is finally on the side of the Heddas and the Lovborgs. Aren’t things already stacked enough on their behalf, and don’t they already prevail far more than they should? Boo!
I might feel differently, next time I watch …