Swedish summer seems to spell maddness. But I prefer it to the sad maddness of Strindberg's naturalism. Strinberg's typologies strike us as rotten today as the old sacred trees. Jean is no more "new man" than Julie is 'half-man' despite Strindberg's desires to determine them. He wrote in the play's infamous preface: "I have motivated Miss Julie's tragic fate by a great number of circumstances: her mother's primary instincts, her father raising her incorrectly, her own nature, and the influence of her fiance on her weak and degenerate brain."
One of the problems of Julie is to situate her emotional age. No longer a child, once engaged, yet she seems still at sea with herself. The more autonomy we crave for her, the more critically we must examine her teasing class power play with the servants. Luckily, Sjoberg's film offers bits of relief such as the light on the barn dance. Strindberg's naturalism has been bleakly influential whether I like or no, but he cannot blot the summer. As a revolutionary woman once put it: they can cut the flower, but cannot stop the coming of spring.
One of the problems of Julie is to situate her emotional age. No longer a child, once engaged, yet she seems still at sea with herself. The more autonomy we crave for her, the more critically we must examine her teasing class power play with the servants. Luckily, Sjoberg's film offers bits of relief such as the light on the barn dance. Strindberg's naturalism has been bleakly influential whether I like or no, but he cannot blot the summer. As a revolutionary woman once put it: they can cut the flower, but cannot stop the coming of spring.
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