It takes a poet to render the universal with a grace that is supple enough not to do an injustice either to the beauty or the tragedy of everyday experience. Jan Troell's two films, The Emigrants and its sequel The New Land, tell the story of Karl Oskar (Max von Sydow) and his wife Kristina (Liv Ullmann), a Swedish couple who emigrate to America and settle down in Minnesota in 1852. Their pioneer experiences are translated to the screen with clarity, sympathy, and essential dignity. Whereas The Emigrants was noteworthy as a lyrical tribute to a couple courageous enough to set out for a new life, The New Land is equally poetic in its rendering of their struggles as settlers.
With the help of Karl's younger brother Robert (Eddie Axberg), they build a house, face the hard Minnesota winter, cultivate the soil, and rejoice in the birth of Johan, "made in Sweden and born in America." The couple keep to themselves and are awkward in the presence of strangers. Kristina gives some Indian women meat more out of fear than charity. Karl Oskar trades at the store in town, paying his bill with maple syrup when he's short on cash.
A Swedish neighbor moves in next door. Robert and his friend Arvid (Pierre Lindstedt) leave for California in search of gold. Kristina's best friend Ulrika (Monica Zetterlund) gets married to a Baptist preacher and moves away. Karl Oskar is refused by the Army and can't fight in the Civil War on account of a bad leg.
The seasons provide a counterpoint to the changes in the lives of Karl Oskar and Kristina. More children are born. The land moves under Karl Oskar's loving touch. Kristina is homesick. More Swedes move in nearby. A schoolhouse and church are built; Karl Oskar becomes a deacon. Then, violence erupts. The Indians, betrayed by the U.S. government, begin to take revenge on the settlers.
After a miscarriage, the doctor warns Kristina that she cannot have any more children. But she puts her life in God's hands and becomes pregnant again. As the settlers begin to evacuate the area, Karl Oskar stays behind with Kristina, letting her sample the first apple from her tree before she dies. The children grow up, and Karl Oskar remains embittered toward God and lost without Kristina. He dies of old age having sired a large family and given his children the promise of a better tomorrow.
Jan Troell's camera brings us close to Kristina: her pensive visage bathed in an orange glow, her spontaneous joy at trying on one of Ulrika's hats, her breathless solemnity upon receiving communion. And Karl Oskar's seriousness: his fortitude in working the land, his quick action to save his son in a treacherous storm, his loneliness after Kristina's death. We feel these things with him thanks to Troell's artistry.
Robert's experiences in the West with Arvid are conveyed to us through the filter of his memory: the trip on the steamboat, a menial job taking care of a prospector's mules, Arvid's death in the desert, his humiliation upon returning to the farm to discover that he's been swindled out of all his money. Robert — who first dreamed of America as a fresh start in life — dies a broken spirit.
There is a deep undercurrent of melancholy in The New Land that is very moving and authentic. Karl Oskar realizes late in his life that he has purchased stolen property — for the land he bought from the government actually belonged to the Indians. The last section of the film depicts the violence brought by the Indians upon the settlers. In a chilling sequence, Troell, to the accompaniment of an Indian chant, lingers over the mass execution of Sioux prisoners from the war against the white man.
The New Land does not blink at the sum of tragedy and the spilling of innocent blood that is part of the story of our country. Troell's willingness to face up to these things made this film one of the most genuine cinematic experiences of 1973. The Emigrants and The New Land are masterpieces that reveal the essence of what it means to be a human being, alive to the world of the senses and alert to both the beauty and the violence of life.