Has there ever been a more sad, beautiful, heartbreaking, and inspiring story than Jan Troell’s 1971 epic The Emigrants? I may be biased—being of Swedish descent and from Minnesota—but I doubt that’s what kept me so captivated by the film. No, it’s a superbly crafted work of art, with acting so good I believed my ancestors may have been trying to communicate with me. The Emigrants is one of those rare treats that manages to stir up a whirlwind of emotions but doesn’t leave you feeling manipulated or empty when it’s all said and done.
The first half of the film concerns the Nilsson family in their homeland of Sweden, circa the 1840s. Karl Oskar (Max von Sydow) and his wife Kristina (Liv Ullmann) are struggling to keep their ever-growing family fed on land that produces less and less each year. After some time and tragedy, they hatch a plan to set out for America. Hard work is rewarded in America, and everyone has everything they need, or so they’ve heard.
After the intermission (yes, there’s an intermission, the film is nearly three hours long), the Nilssons and their rag-tag group of extended family board a ship bound for their new home. The voyage is a difficult one, but along the way, Karl Oskar meets an elderly couple on their way to meet their son on his farm in Minnesota. The soil is fertile, and there’s plenty of land, they say. This is enough for Karl Oskar.
Once on American soil, their journey is far from over. There are many lessons about this strange and new land to be learned as they press inland. It’s not an easy task, traveling from New York to Minnesota, especially with no money, and a large group consisting of ages ranging from toddler to elderly, but they press on. They must.
Herein lies the central crux of the film. You simply must press on. What choice do you have? Hardship after hardship is thrown at the Nilsson family, but they survive and endure. The odds seem to be against them at every turn, but they persevere. Some put their faith in God, some curse him for the lot they’ve been given, but onward they must go regardless of faith. Karl Oskar is constantly being admonished by his wife for his blasphemies, which he simply shrugs off. He’s not the only one who sees the ridiculousness in putting all your faith in God. His brother teaches himself English, where others believe their faith will allow them to magically speak it once reaching America. Reality forces the family onward. Faith seems to get in their way and hold them back.
It’s amazing to me how much of the old men and women I grew up around in Minnesota I see in these characters. People of Scandinavian descent have a particular air to them. The men are quiet and vulgar (when the women aren’t around, anyway), and the women are reserved and much stronger than they let on. The cast is Swedish, so maybe capturing this essence wasn’t a stretch for them, but for me, the performances are particularly moving. I truly felt as if I was seeing my great-great-grandparents in von Sydow and Ullman. I’ve clearly never had the sort of struggles that these emigrants surely had, but their hardships are so palpable that I can still feel it in my bones. Watching the cast maneuver the very real world that Troell has created is an immense pleasure for this Minnesota boy.
And the world created is very real indeed. This is partly due to the authentic locations, but also the pacing. The Emigrants moves like life. The first half goes by quite slowly, building the foundation for the Nilsson’s desperation. Leaving your home for an unknown land is quite a decision, so you’d better make sure there’s a good reason. Troell gives us that reason with an expertly paced set-up that drives home the need to move on.
The second half of the film moves a bit quicker but still manages to accentuate the hardships, misery, and triumph at every turn. At the end of every hard-fought leg of the journey, lies hope and optimism, which is exactly what these emigrants have been searching for. The pacing also allows plenty of time for reflection and thought. When scenes move by in quick succession, there’s no time to process. Troell lets the film breathe, and in doing so, allows us to better take it all in.
The Emigrants is a masterwork. It’s full of sadness, without being a melodramatic and manipulative tear-jerker. It’s inspiring, without being preachy or full of itself. It’s beautiful to look at while still being grounded in reality. But mostly, it’s just honest. I think that’s what’s most important.
Sweden • 1971 • 191 minutes • Color • 1.66:1 • Swedish • Spine #796
Criterion Special Features Include
- New high-definition digital restorations of both films, with uncompressed monaural soundtracks on the Blu-rays
- New introduction by theater and film critic John Simon
- New conversation between film scholar Peter Cowie and director Jan Troell
- New interview with actor Liv Ullmann
- To Paint with Pictures, an hour-long documentary from 2005 on the making of the films, featuring archival footage as well as interviews with Troell, Ullmann, producer and coscreenwriter Bengt Forslund, actor Eddie Axberg, and composer Georg Oddner
- Trailers
- New English subtitle translations
- PLUS: An essay by critic Terrence Rafferty
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.