#also this weekend in general has just been so hectic. i would elaborate but i don’t want to get doxed ❤️

[pallases]

i have done so much calculus this weekend…

[ritacaroline]

Starshine          Ch. 47     Jimmy Page           Fan Fiction

Clare : Hello ?

Jill : Hi there, new Mommy. How’s it all going ?

Clare : It’s going well, I think. A little overwhelming though. He has many needs ! And it’s a little confusing learning his schedule and what it is that he needs and when ! I’m tired and exasperated. But I’m thankful I’ve gotten this far. And the little guy seems to be ok, so I feel successful.

Jill : Well great. I know it must be hectic.

Clare : Yes. It is. Thanks for understanding, love.

Jill : I’m sure its more than I can imagine. Not being a mom myself.

Clare : yes, exactly. I wouldn’t have imagined what it would be like, caring for him.

Jill : Would you want some company yet ? From me ? Help with anything ?

Clare : Oh, thank you so much, my dearest friend !! But I think I’ll need to wait a few more days or a week. I’m learning a lot here right now. And I do have a nanny, also John has been magnificent as a helpful Dad. I’m so proud of him, how he’s stepped up and assumed the role, of doting Dad and hub, here. I’m impressed. And as you know, we have a housekeeper and a cook here. So - basically, as you Yanks say, all the bases are covered, Jill. I’m extremely priveledged. No help needed. But let’s set it up for next week, sweetheart.

Jill : Ok, I’m with ya. And you know about our trip to Windmere Castle, this coming weekend, right ?

Clare : Yes, I am. I’m so glad you’re getting away. Now, honey, you relax, don’t overexert yourself please. After your crazy accident, we need you to keep safe.

Jill : I will. And good luck to you all at the Bonham household. Bye for now.

When the other band members heard about Jim’s weekend excursion to Windmere Castle, they all wanted to go too. With the exception of Bonz and Clare. Not with their new baby, too risky.

The rest asked Jimmy if he minded if they joined him and Jill. They both thought it was a fantastic idea. More laughs. Jimmy rented a large van and they all piled in. Roland was available to be their driver. Percy and Linda, John Paul and Maureen, Jim and Jill, Peter Grant and Alison. It was about 2 hours drive to the north. Leaves were just beginning to change colors. Early fall. The air was crisp and the temperature was just beginning to cool down. Some call it sweater weather.

In the passenger area of the van, everyone was in a great mood, looking forward to some fun. Singing and joking around. Jill was snuggled up against Jim, and he held her close to himself. They were nice and warm against each other and feeling the deep comfort of being in love. The feeling was still a strong thrill. Once they all arrived, the sight of the castle was majestic. Really brings you back to ancient times. Indoors, however, the place had been renovated and modernized. Modern showers and bathrooms, precise heating and cooling, electricity, plumbing and state of the art kitchen appliances. But most of the old world fixtures, flavour and décor still remained. There were several bodies of water nearby. Small clear lakes, glistened in the sun. Staff brought the guests belongings to their rooms.

A guide, Gary spoke, “ Welcome friends, to Windmere Castle. Built in the year 1722. I’m Gary Foster, after you get a little rest, you can meet me in the foyer at noon.  I’ll lead you all on a quick tour,  then a lunch. I’ll tell you about the castle and answer any questions. You can reach me by intercom any time from your rooms, if you need anything.”

First the guests were taken to their rooms to get comfortable. 

Jill : Amazing. I’ve never been in a castle before. The atmosphere is unreal !  I’m so thrilled to be here. 

Jim : Babe, I’m so glad you like it. I hoped you would. It’s a little unknown and mysterious. It gives me a little chill of spookiness here.

Jill : Me too. And I like it. 

Their room had a huge fluffy bed against the wall. An elaborate dark wood carved backboard behind it, against the wall.  The other furniture matched it of course, heavy dark wood bureaus and night stands. And a huge armoire. A fire burned in their own fireplace there, taking the moisture thoroughly out of the damp air. They both hopped up on the high bed and lay down on it, for a short rest. The fabric bedding was of the best quality and the comfort of it was soft beyond belief. The ride was long and they had endured many miles of bumpy rustic roads on their way into the country land toward the castle.

Jill put her arms around Jimmy and nestled up against him. He loved it. He smelled so clean and woodsy here, up in the country. He held her close to himself and kissed her lips with slow, wet delicious kisses. While whispering to her how desperately he loved her and treasured her. The soft luxurious bedding was inviting for sleep, and she nodded off for a quick nap, he followed shortly. After about a half hour, they awoke. They realized it was nearly noon, and quickly headed downstairs to meet the others for the tour.  The halls and rooms were massive and the décor was absolutely intriguing. Design from days gone by. A time lost long ago.

After their tour, they were led to a huge dining room, set up with metal plates and mugs from yesteryear. 

The beverage was ale, and the meals served were very simply prepared. Reminiscent of times gone by.  The food had been cooked on a spit in the hearth over the fire. Lightly charred and seasoned chicken pieces, surrounded by sliced buttery mushrooms and baked potatoes. It smelled heavenly. And tasted better. 

Jill : this is so fascinating ! I have never been in a place like this before, and it’s so much fun !

Jimmy had the widest grin on, and hugged her so tightly. He was so excited that Jill was enjoying the place. He really wanted her to be happy, especially after her horrible accident and recovery time. And generally speaking, Jill was not hard to please. She had a happy disposition and was usually game to try new outings. However, this adventure so far was a real thrill. For everyone.

Robert and John Paul and their wives were just loving this also. Robert was boisterous as usual, in a giddy mood - raising his mug and making crazy toasts. Laughing loudly, adding on to everyones joyful mood. Causing bursts of laughter from their table. Other parties of guests were also present, at other tables. They were also laughing at Rob’s toasts. It was just a silly, merry time.

After lunch, all were led out to the front courtyard. It was beautifully landscaped, with lots of hedges and flowering plants. Benches and chairs were arranged for the optimal social gathering, along the flat pavement. The guests were all seated, and a few staff were preparing fresh shaved ice, in flavored syrups for a light dessert. The flavors were so unique and delicious. Everyone loved them.

Peter Grant was seated near the tour guide, Gary. He asked him, “Gary, any reports of ghost sightings here at the castle ? Seems fit for a place like this one.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you all but no. So far the premises have been spirit free,“ he announced  Jimmy overheard them and looked at Jill. He shook his head to her, indicating he didn’t believe Gary in the least. Jill understood his gesture a hundred percent.

Gary : Alright, guests ! If any of you would care to join us, we’ll now be venturing out on rowboats upon our lake to your left. (Pointing.) Lake Wisteria. We’ll be launching in 30 minutes. Meet me here.

Next Ch. 48 : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/188158390751/starshine-ch-48

Chapter Index for “Starshine” is located at bottom section of Ch.1 , click here :

https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy-page-fan](https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy-page-fan)

Link to “In The Light” - original fan fic - https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/Fan%20Fiction

JimJam Mistresses : @tremble-and-shake @ledoftherings @gimmeeshelter @adonna1964 @justanotherzosofangirl @starchild0985 @girlofthemoon75 @bonscottintheimpala @12909168 @jjullz @cherryfloyd @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake @save-me-from-the-gallows-pole @soy-laprincessa @marauderofworlds @ultrabitchystudentperfectionus @satanspizzadeliveryguy @misspenylane @zi-zidane @catherine0627 @pagingpage-the-original @amythesticon @strangerspassinginthestreet @ thezeppelinbeatles @pour-some-sugar-on-mee @carryfire18 @j-james-thlk @70shoney @strange-broo @page-daddy @nadianad1337 @yerawizardjimmeh @jimmyypagey @magnetacuddles84 @rock6880 @ledxzeppelin @kinkyspice @thelandofnevermore @my-golden-lion @itsblackbetty @luvejimmy @palenickelsaladparty @jennmarieetn @honeydewgroupie @how-many-more-times-blog @loveinher-eyess @rocknrollababes-blog @princesssofpeace @frauweide @dontyouhearmecallingyou @zozjaa @miniaturewinnerwonderland @http-jinx @chennington @venicebeachx @wanna-be-groupie @where-the-hot-springs-blow @basementmermaid @crying-over-rock-legends @cherrrywitch @scarletrossetti @sixpackonthefrontseat @miamorjimmypage @jimmypageismylife @pennylane1968 @jlmmypage

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[humansofoz]

April 23, 2019

“Everything happens for a reason.”

Marissa Ohl. 20. SUNY Oswego Senior

HoOz- What was your greatest struggle at age 16?

Marissa- I changed high schools my freshman year. I did my freshman year at West High and then my sophomore year me and my best friend switched over to East. Then in my junior year both schools combined. So I would say my greatest struggle was just making a solid group of friends just because there were so many people from both the schools combining. We had a graduating class of 500 kids. I think the biggest thing was just how overwhelmingly large my school was and then finding a balance between my extracurricular which was track, and school and the club that I was involved in. It was hard to balance everything.

HoOz- What was your childhood like?

Marissa- My childhood was interesting. When I was five, my dad went to Iraq for a year. So when I started kindergarten he missed all of that and then he missed a little bit of when I was in first grade. He left the day after my little brother was born. So my mom was raising my older sister, my newborn brother, and me the whole year that my dad was gone. My sister and me learned a lot about taking care of our little brother and taking care of ourselves. As a five and a seven year old we had to do a lot. Some nights we had to make dinner for ourselves while my mom was either sleeping or taking care of Robert. Then when my dad came home we had a lot of military events that we would go to on the weekends, which were in Wilkes-Barre, PA. So we had to drive back and forth for those things. They did a lot of events for military kids, which were good because that way we could meet other kids whose parents, were also in the military. But it was a really hectic time growing up.

HoOz- What is your relationship with your siblings like?

Marissa- I’m close with my little brother. Probably because when my sister graduated high school, she moved out and went to college and after that she’s been living with family members. So me and my brother have lived together our whole lives growing up. When I was in high school he was like 11 and I was 16. So he was like my baby brother but I was old enough to value that relationship. So we were definitely close and I knew that I was gonna be going to college soon, so throughout high school I spent a lot of time with my brother. My older sister, we were a lot closer when we were little obviously because our little brother was not able to communicate with us at a young age. We grew up together and we were doing a lot together, like I said, making dinner together and stuff like that. When we got to like middle school, that’s when we started not hanging out that much. I was in 6th grade and she was in 8th grade so there was like a divide because I wanted to hang out with her and her friends and she didn’t want us to hang out with them. So that’s when we started bickering and what not. In high school we just stopped hanging out. Now we talk like once a month maybe. So I’m definitely closer with my little brother.

HoOz- Tell us about your past three years at Oswego. What were your most memorable moments?

Marissa- My freshman year with my roommate. Those were definitely the most memorable because that’s when I was going through the whole adjusting to college. We didn’t really know what we were in for and we were still figuring all of that out. So learning how to live on a college campus without our parents or siblings, and just being around a bunch of other college students. One thing that I noticed the most my freshman year while being here was the absence of pets, babies, and old people in my life. We were surrounded by students our age so when I did go home and I was with my family or my grandparents or my dog, I valued that. So that was weird my freshman year because it’s like you were just always with students. My sophomore year is when I became an RA so that was quite the adjustment compared to my freshman year. A lot more responsibility and a lot more seriousness. I had to actually plan out what I need to do, when I need to do it by, and then all these other tasks in between. But now that I’m a junior/senior, it’s easier because I’ve already been in the job and I know what I have to do to get out of this place and graduate. Everything is a lot clearer now. But this time last year I didn’t know that I was graduating a year early. I knew that I had some credits, but I didn’t know it was gonna be like a whole year. So this whole year I’ve been trying to cram in my junior year and my senior year and I think I did it.

HoOz- Is there anything that you wish you did while attending Oswego that you didn’t get to do?

Marissa- I wish that I lived in Hart hall because I did make a lot of friends that were international students. That’s one thing that I regret not doing because I was only here for three years. Also because I was an RA. I would have liked to live there for at least a semester just to be closer to international students so that I could meet some more. I’ve only ever had a relationship with like four or five of them, so I wish that I had been able to emerge into the culture over there at Hart because there’s so much. I think that’s the only thing I really regret.

HoOz- What advice would you give an incoming first year student?

Marissa- Get involved. I know that sounds so cliché. Not just getting involved with clubs and orgs, but also don’t be afraid to go up to people and just introduce yourself and talk to them because you’ll find that it is a really small campus and the more you network and make friends, it makes it easier. It made it easier for me knowing so many people because if I ever needed something, I knew who to ask and where to go for it. For instance, my freshman year when I was interested in becoming an RA, I already had a really good relationship with my RA so she was the one who told me everything I needed to know and recommended me for the job. Eventually when I got the job she was still that main point of contact for me when I was like, hey I’m struggling with this within the job, what did you do? Then I joined Student Association. And just being an RA in general, you meet all the other RAs. Personal safety committee where I got to meet the dean of students and Title IX coordinator. Working in those leadership positions made me see what I wanted to do with my future. So I think that the more you get involved and the more people you meet, the more you learn about yourself and hen you’re going to figure out what you want to do. If I hadn’t been an RA I would have never gone into Higher Ed. No offense to radio but if I hadn’t done the radio organization, WNYO, I wouldn’t have learned that I really didn’t have a passion for radio. So, get involved!

HoOz- What are your next steps after graduation?

Marissa- On August 2nd of 2019 I’m moving into my apartment as a resident director at Pomeroy College of Nursing. And I’m going to Aruba this summer for my graduation present. I’m so excited. I’m going with my best friend, my freshman year roommate. We’re going with our moms so we’re doing a little hoorah. Me and her both graduated in three years so we wanna do a celebratory trip. I’ll be studying Higher Education for the next two years and hopefully getting my Masters by 2021 in Higher Education.

HoOZ- What is your biggest flaw?

Marissa- I’m too controlling. Do I wanna tell people this? I think my biggest flaw is that I’m very set on what I want and anything that gets in the way of that, at first I’m like I don’t want it to happen. Then I just kinda have to step back and let it happen and see how things play out. So I guess I have like a plan, you know. Two years Higher Ed, get a job, move somewhere, start a family, but I know that’s not how things are gonna go. So I guess my biggest flaw is that every time something comes in the way of that, I feel like it’s messing up the plan, but it’s not. That’s just how it’s supposed to be. Everything happens for a reason.

HoOz- What is your biggest strength?

Marissa- My ability to communicate. I’m a Communication major, so I think that a lot of problems between me and other people or that I see among my friends are just a lack of communication or a lack of understanding. I think that it has to do with a lot of different things, like if you’re communicating via text there’s a lot of miscommunication there. I make sure that I elaborate what I’m saying or if someone isn’t sure what I’m saying I make sure they try to understand. I also like to mediate conflict, like if I see an issue between my friends, my biggest strength would be mediating the conflict and kinda finding the point in time where the conflict started and how it escalated.

HoOz- If you could tell your future self one thing what would it be?

Marissa- Don’t be so eager to grow up. Right now I’m at the point where I just want to move on and go to the next step, so I think my future self is still gonna be the same and just like go go go and I’m gonna miss everything in between there. So, just chill out.

[ratherhavetheblues]

INGMAR BERGMAN’S ‘SMILES OF A SUMMER NIGHT “If people only knew how unhealthy it is to pay attention to what people say, they wouldn’t bother to listen and they’d feel so much better…”

© 2019 by James Clark

     Like the Bergman film, Winter Light (1963), Smiles of a Summer Night (1955), threatens, at first blush, to be a pain in the ass. Instead of the former film’s protagonist’s death march through rootless theology, we have a veritable general assembly of gluttons for winning advantage over everyone else, so smug and fatuous in their ridiculous “sophistication” as to seem not only from several centuries past but obviously headed for embarrassment. However, just as we were rewarded by putting up with the first hour-plus in the first-mentioned film, there is, in the latter (our film today), after quite a long while, something delicious turning the tables—which is not to say, becoming dominant.

At the beginning of the 20th century, a high-profile Stockholm actress, Desiree, presses her mother—an elderly dowager—to stage a summer weekend for a number of her associates, in order to create a fracas that will wrest away from his very young wife a lawyer  whom, as once before, she finds herself in love with. Whereas the jockeying amidst various cynical patricians is hectic and not particularly witty—one scene recalling the Three Stooges—(making for Bergman a much-needed state of solvency and continued career), it is the non-amorous octogenarian who makes the occasion truly sexy.

There is a prelude to this romp, where Desiree bursts into her mother’s bedroom (interrupting the latter’s game of Solitaire, at 7 a.m.) to have her write out the invitations. While the daughter drinks a lot of coffee and then skims over a novel, the owner of the estate has more to say about the state of the nation than the progressions of her flakey daughter. On Desiree’s describing her event as doing a “good deed,” the rather frail but very alert intruded-upon declares, “They [good deeds] cost far too much” (the recipient not likely to seriously respond, leaving the donor nonplussed). She goes on to elaborate upon her being fond of Solitaire. The social convener/ daughter asks, “Is anything really important to you?” Her mother, not needing to think it over, shoots back, “I am tired of people. But that doesn’t stop me loving them… I could have had them stuffed and hanging in long rows, any number of them [fine as a decorative possibility; disastrous as actuality]. One can never protect a human being from any kind of suffering [the level of grotesque perversity being like a self-satisfied plague]. That is what makes one so tremendously weary…”

The uniqueness of this inflected misanthrope really gets down to business during the opulent dinner on that “big” weekend for Desiree and for several others who might, sometime later, realize it was not as big as it appeared. (One other epigram in the old gal’s bag of tricks that early morning, involved her exclaiming that she had just won at the present game of Solitaire. Immediately, Desiree, being an archive of snotty put-downs, snipes, “One always does if you cheat a little.” In response, her mother digs a little deeper in face of an overrated artiste, about which the discerning dowager had , in the flow of tedium, mentioned, “Desiree, you worry me…” [she being one of those she is “tired of,” and yet “loving.”] Reading her child like a book, concerning the former beau, now back on the griddle, she [somewhat inconsistently] posits, “Your character is far too strong [for him]. You got that from you father.” But that father had, one day, thrown the mom out a window, an anecdote reestablishing the toughest of tough love.] Worrisome and superficially clever as Desiree clearly is in her mother’s eyes, the latter feels compelled, for the hell of it, to enact a pointless riposte about the depths of Solitaire. “You’re wrong, there. Solitaire is the only thing in life that calls for absolute honesty.”)

The lady of the house shows, in several ways, that her energies, though having very little to do with those of her guests, have been galvanized to confront here so much of what she not only endures but also transcends. She has placed all the visitors along one side of the long banquet table, the better to set in relief her own distinctiveness, being a constant endeavor, even when, as often, she is alone. We see her in close-up being embraced by many large, blazing and cave-like-emanations of wax. We see her, in fact, as she is, namely, an irregular oracle.

The night commences with a brief glimpse of dark clouds within which the moon darts in and out. Then there are swans in the property’s lake, their consummate  gracefulness being some kind of condemnation of the invaders. As you would imagine, Desiree’s contacts, including a count and countess, would dwell upon displaying how much star-power they presume to emit. As seated at the table, their regular diet of concupiscence would be supplemented by the figure of someone seemingly off the lust-grid, and thereby of totally no account. The Countess promptly imagines that advanced conversation could be sustained by the gambit of betting Egerman, Desiree’s designated squeeze, she could seduce him within fifteen minutes. She entitles her thesis, “Can women never be the seducers?” The affluent lawyer in the cross hairs shows some slick  lawyering, in terms of, “Men are always the ones seduced.”  This brings from the Count, “Nonsense, I have never been seduced. A man is always on the offensive. He [Egerman] just wants to appear interesting.” The lawyer’s student-priest-son takes exception to the tone–“We were brought into the world to love one another…”–only to be met by Desiree, with, “In matters of love we need to be gymnastic,” players of startling range (hold that thought).

Perhaps to forestall the guests throwing buns at each other (she had, on that morning, insisted, “If there are actors [in the guest-list], they’ll have to eat in the stables…”), the adult interrupts, “My dear children and friends…According to legend, this wine is pressed from grapes whose juice gushes out like drops of blood against  the pale grape skin. It’s also said  that to each cask filled with the wine was added a drop of milk from a young mother’s breast and a drop from a seed from a young stallion. These lend to the wine secret seductive powers. Whoever drinks hereof does so at  his own risk and must answer for himself.”

The guests, given their reflexiveness toward packaged self-aggrandizement, convert the lady’s deep poetry to shallow prose (as she knew they would). During the gauche start-up in imagining what heights call for, she trips up the Count, the most besotted of the egotists, by pointing out that if male seduction needs no show of qualities, “your main ally is not your own assets” (but instead an agency you don’t effectively  control–the married woman’s marital ennui). At this, the Count, showing some chivalry, calls out, “Bravo!” for her wit. Also at that commencement–of Desiree’s bringing together the virgin, trophy bride (to forestalling Egerman’s getting old) and the virgin moralist, a state which would open the door to the lawyer’s second coming into the actress’ mastery (a step putting randy and now violently boring Count Malcolm back to some semblance of being a husband to a wife who calls herself, “an honest little rattlesnake” and regards love as “a loathsome business”)–the actress advises the callow theologian, beginning to boil over, “Why don’t you try laughing at us?” Perhaps the highwater mark, very brief, of self-criticism, in her entire life.

Once the plonk-mavens hit their stride, on failing to do justice to the oracle’s serious vintages, we see no more of her and her wisdom. Whereas, in the later run-through of annoying folks capitulating, in Winter Light, there is a robust, late show of spirit that has a fascinating hope, we have to do without hope here—or at least, very faint hope. It appears that, at this stage of his reflection, Bergman, very intent on savaging those who settle for less, had come to ponder the fate of a dead planet and a special horror and power for those not dead.

How should we make the best of this compromised treasure of a film? As it happens, there’s another wise soul in this catchment of clowns, characteristically hard to find and appreciate. (Many viewers intuit that in Bergman we encounter a giant of modern cinematic mood. But how many realize that he’s a uniquely brilliant writer?) Egerman has brought along his young housemaid, Petra, a good-natured strumpet. She soon links up with, Frid, one of the dowager’s servants; and, with the feast segueing into a multifaceted skirmish, there they are, in the June night, alight with Nordic sunlight, and snuggled down against a windmill, with swans serenely drifting by, she seeming exhausted, and he enjoying another tankard of beer (he having been one of the bearers of that challenging wine). He remarks (almost as if he’d tasted the beverage of choice), “Do you see, Little One? The summer light is smiling.” Petra retorts, “So, you’re a poet, too?” Shaking that off, he continues, “The summer night has three smiles. This is the first, between midnight and dawn, when young lovers open their hearts and loins. Look, then, on the horizon’s smile so soft. You have to be very quiet and watchful to see it all.” Petra repeats, “Young lovers…” Frid teases, “Did that move you, my little pet?” She goes on, with, “Why have I never been a young lover? Can you tell me that?”/ “My dear little girl,” he gently replies, “console yourself. There are few young lovers in this world. You could almost count them. Love has smitten them, both as a gift  and a punishment…”/ “And the rest of them?” she asks. “The rest of us? What becomes of us?” With a broad smile, he opines, “We invoke love, call out to it, beg for it and tell lies about it… But we don’t have it… No, my Sugar Pie. We are denied the love of loving. We don’t have the gift… Nor the punishment.”

We’ll never know if this very tenuous associate of the dowager’s could elaborate upon his riveting gambit, because their oracular dialogue is blown away by Egerman’s preachifying son needing their help to procure a horse and coach to effect the beginning of his and Egerman’s wife, Anne, being a constellation of elopement and fatuous denunciation and purity of intent. “Bless me!” Petra exclaims, so thrilled by the “adventuresome”, and yet where not long before, back home, she had been nonplussed by the prig’s reading to her a tract of Martin Luther, “You cannot stop the birds from flying over your head, but you can keep them from nesting in your hair…” Although there was passion that night at the dowager’s, in the aftermath of the dogmatist’s failed attempt at suicide, there was also Anne’s troubling melodramatic approach to the getaway, skulking along the wall of the barn. Right after the precious lovers race beyond the range of inadequacy, there is a cut to a clock at the estate, announcing the hour by a procession of figures, one wracked with care, and another being a skull.

As if to confirm that some can handle excitement far better than others, the apparatus with moving parts, involving Petra and Frid, comprises a coursing windmill, seen in silhouette, perhaps a prelude to clear sailing, along with obscurity. Frid proposes following the second smile of the summer night, “for the jesters, the fools and the incorrigible.” Petra  infers, “Then she [the smile] must be smiling at us.” Brushing off his proposal of another beer, she sticks to the gratifying, and unmistakably in play, mysticism. “Then she is smiling at us, I said!”/ “Correct,” is his return to depths he only seldomly tolerates. (That would be Frid’s figuring, in the cinematic reflections of Bergman, at a lesser pitch than and anticipatory of, Jof, the dreamer of acrobatics and impossible juggling, in The Seventh Seal. “Do you want to marry me?” is Petra’s response to something in the stars, spotlighting her affinities to Jof’s wife, Marie, the pragmatic but crazy enough wife of Jof). Frid laughs loudly and with ridicule, at Petra’s impetuousness. Not to be put off by the mixed signals, she argues, “An hour ago you said you wanted to.”/ “That was then,” he claims, being fond of messing around, stemming from a less than sound grasp of a logic of introducing opposites. To that, Petra, knowing that the cat is out of the bag and she wants to bring it home, declares, “You will marry me!”—slugging him a few times for emphasis. Frid tells her, “You’re a strong little sugar plum…” by way of acknowledging that she’s not like other girls. Pummeling him and shooting off that matrimonial threat again, over and over, carries the conflict to a strange thread of resolve. (Here a cut to ponderous Desiree, tucking into bed her child, obviously from Egerman, whom she persists, however, in lieu of mystery, in refusing to specify the roots, such as they were. Her favorite saying, within this “comedy” decidedly veering to farce, is, “Men need to be guided to their own best interests.”) When next we see the hardy servants—after a madcap display of the seduction addicts cementing their power interests and giving no thought to love—they have produced a hybrid of the joys of paradox and the joys of something less than that. “Do you promise to marry me?”/ “Just let go of my ears!” is Frid’s rejoinder. (This moment is shown from a long distance away. The stone-built mill is integral; they’re already dissipating into a rural void. Now in close-up, his own fatalism has bought into something far from unique. “I promise!”/ “Swear by everything you hold sacred!” the hitherto promiscuous loose cannon preaches. “I swear by my manhood”—the context being a mound of straw which he falls back into while shooting erect one of his legs. At this, Petra, triumphs, “Then we can consider ourselves engaged!” She falls back on the straw and her leg shoots skyward. “May Frid rest in peace,” is his take on this irony. “He’s on his way to hell now!” “Up you get, Fatty! Time to groom the horses,” are his marching papers. Having already assimilated a stiff dose of the mundane, while still in the hunt, regardless of the odds, Frid can call out, “There is no better life than this!” To which Petra adds, “And the summer night has smiled for the third time,” in a synthesis.

In this moment of advance and retreat, Frid feels compelled to accentuate the positive. “For the sad and dejected, for the sleepless and lost souls, for the frightened and the lonely…” [we persevere]. Petra adds, “But the clowns will have a cup of coffee in the kitchen!” Their leaving us in a distant shot, as they make their way through a fine grain field is far from the end of their activation. The ironic Hollywood upsweep here in the sound-track poses a threat having been surmounted.

Frid and Petra don’t expect much. But, by comparison with their “betters,” having totally missed the point of the oracle, they send forth the kind of ragged lucidity to be seen more pointedly, two years later, in Jof and Marie, in, The Seventh Seal (1957).

With the child-bride and the child-priest out of the way, there is Desiree, responding to Egerman’s, “Don’t leave me…”: “I make no promises. You’re a terribly boring, normal person, and I’m a great artist.” The Count and Countess have their kind of confluence: He mocks, “I shall be faithful for at least seven eternities of pleasure… eighteen false smiles and fifty-seven tender whisperings. Without meaning. I shall remain faithful until the great yawn do us part. In short, I shall remain faithful in my way… I can never be at ease. You know that.”

Before closing this saga and its trio of fascinating seers, there remains to be noticed explicitly how the work by such a consummate craftsman as Bergman sees fit to hatchet those who trade in facile artistry. Egerman’s being a successful attorney-at-law (acting for another in legal matters) has been exposed as lacking in initiative for the sake of primordial justice. His coquette doll of a new wife, Anne, knows very well about social climbing by way of her looks, and she ends up looking like a saccharin, tasteless. life-long bore. Frederick, the Second, whose discernment in women is on a par with his understanding of cosmic love—his father having kicked himself, about asking the outcome of a battery of his academic exams, with  “silly question,” [that it could be anything but Straight-A’s]—would have derived, from his glittering answering at school, being a yes-man in an ivory tower meaning precious nothing. Desiree’s status as a theatre darling in a provincial outpost comes to a moment of pocketing Egerman’s set of photos of princess Anne. Count Malcolm, the dueling and killer croquet expert, shows us his hot wheels (capable of a dazzling 20 mph) while driving, along with the Countess and a servant, into the dowager’s moment of truth. Their get-up and the backfires therein, resemble flatulence, perfect for a Three Stooges accomplishment. In assenting to her husband’s incurable malignancy, the Countess Charlotte defines herself, being a confident of Anne, as another clever materialist. But, with Desiree, watching the Count playing croquet as if a crucial activity, she gets off the slimmest glimmer of contempt for his “unyielding virility,”  his addiction to make every move a military gain. Notwithstanding, Desiree, from out of the patented cynicism of her coterie, seeks to smarten up the scholar with the wise proposition, “… sensible adults treat love as if it were a military campaign or a gymnastics exhibition.” Soon we shall treat of an even more incisive instance of this matter of fruitful interplay, in the perhaps greatest of Bergman’s films, The Magician (1958).