A dark and bleak tale that lends us release in the carefree entrancement of life enjoyed by a couple of entertainers. Jof, his wife Mia, and their baby Mikael are the binary narrative to the knight's tale, and it seems appropriately so, since Block demands proof of the existence of a being he has unquestioningly served for years in the crusades. Jof's tale procures fertility, unconditional love, and stability, while Block's tale lends deceit, death, and existential obsession. It is only after he is sure of his impending doom, that he blindly asks for God's forgiveness.
Ingmar Bergman's background in theater stabilizes the actors so that they can comfortably work through existential thought, while acting naturally. It helps that Bergman's work was equally divided between the studio and the theater. He'd worked as director of the Royal Dramatic Theater in the 1960s while pumping out works like Winter Light and The Silence. The acting appears morally sound, but is confused as ever whether or not they are working towards the existence among a higher order.
A good example would be the silence of the assumed witch that speaks only to Satan. She confesses her devotion to the Devil and seems to give Block an affirmation of the existence of God, yet she resumes her silence at the stake. Jons, Block's loyal squire, argues that her silence is a realization of the fact that there is no God. Bergman's silent woman motif can be exemplified by the otherness of women in Sweden, and the organizational attitudes of a patriarchal society. Silence is often times a resistance to the established male hierarchy, and to remain silent in defiance to God can be the best way to protest religious association with the patriarch.
