It's difficult to know exactly how much lee-way to give a film like this in terms of being generous. To be sure, the camera was not very active in the 1910s. Although there were individual scenes in films which give the camera some movement and agency, by and large the camera was still, this stillness as much a result of the relatively limited camera technology as it was a result of early film seeming to come out of the fixed-perspective of theater-going.
However, people in the 1910s were beginning to understand the effectiveness of moving the camera for effect, and certainly by 1918 it was a known tool. A good example of this is in Yevgeni Bauer's 1915 film "Daydreams." Six minutes into the film the camera follows the action of a man walking down the street. They clearly intended to keep him in frame, but he accidentally walks out of frame as the camera slowly turns to the left to continue observing him; at the same time, the camera slowly backs away. As it does so, we see more of the buildings.
The Outlaw And His Wife would have been well served, in my opinion, with some more camera movement. It is a story of the lives of two characters on the edge of society, one who is there by circumstance, the other by choice. You would want the visuals of a tale like this to carry your audience away with them, so that more than merely witnessing the events in their lives we feel as though we are traveling along with them, leaving society behind.
Still, the film is better than many of its peers at the time in its attempt to break free of parlor-drama constraints. Sjostrom shoots in Nordic environments (Sweden, I believe) to give us the sense of life in remote Iceland, complete with landscapes which both seem to contain the characters within them while providing far off horizons and open skies which create a sense of freedom and limitlessness. More important still are the way Sjostrom uses the elements to create for our eyes an environment which both invites and threatens. The element of water almost becomes a character in itself, as the two main characters live out a life in Icelandic wilderness, in close proximity to both geysers and a lake/stream where they walk. One of the first (was it the first?) shot of the main protagonist is of him passing by a clear flowing mountain stream and drinking from it. In the final shot (SPOILER SPOILER) ice is used to great effect to illustrate the final outcomes of the two lovers, frozen in both space and time. Their reconcilement is ennobled by the ice which preserves them together, as two souls who care for each other despite their own mistakes our societies.
It is for moments like that and scenes where the film seems to break free of traditional constraints that the film is worth watching. The story is a pretty traditional tale, I can only imagine a plot considered well-trodden in 1918 as much as it would be today. The weakest link in the chain is, sadly, Edith Erastoff as Halla. I am willing to accept her as a romantic lead, despite her not being as attractive to a modern sensibility as perhaps she was in her day. However, she mostly over-acts, while at the same time her character over-reacts. Sjostrom is far more subdued, and lets the viewer imagine his emotions, while she uses wild facial expressions and physical gestures to force us to into recognizing her emotions. The film is also not entirely gloom and arctic winter darkness; Sjostrom effectively captures the warmth and growth of Spring in the far North as we see the two leads raising their daughter together.
If water is almost a character in the film, the environment certainly is, as the two outlaws of the film's title wind up living by a cliff-face. The practical effect of this is that they must tie their toddler by a rope to their camp, so she doesn't accidentally fall off. This is a nice visual illustration of the dilemma faced by Halla and Eyvind. Without societal support, their existence in the wilderness, while at most times sustainable and content, is only one mere slip away from destroying them both utterly.
However, people in the 1910s were beginning to understand the effectiveness of moving the camera for effect, and certainly by 1918 it was a known tool. A good example of this is in Yevgeni Bauer's 1915 film "Daydreams." Six minutes into the film the camera follows the action of a man walking down the street. They clearly intended to keep him in frame, but he accidentally walks out of frame as the camera slowly turns to the left to continue observing him; at the same time, the camera slowly backs away. As it does so, we see more of the buildings.
The Outlaw And His Wife would have been well served, in my opinion, with some more camera movement. It is a story of the lives of two characters on the edge of society, one who is there by circumstance, the other by choice. You would want the visuals of a tale like this to carry your audience away with them, so that more than merely witnessing the events in their lives we feel as though we are traveling along with them, leaving society behind.
Still, the film is better than many of its peers at the time in its attempt to break free of parlor-drama constraints. Sjostrom shoots in Nordic environments (Sweden, I believe) to give us the sense of life in remote Iceland, complete with landscapes which both seem to contain the characters within them while providing far off horizons and open skies which create a sense of freedom and limitlessness. More important still are the way Sjostrom uses the elements to create for our eyes an environment which both invites and threatens. The element of water almost becomes a character in itself, as the two main characters live out a life in Icelandic wilderness, in close proximity to both geysers and a lake/stream where they walk. One of the first (was it the first?) shot of the main protagonist is of him passing by a clear flowing mountain stream and drinking from it. In the final shot (SPOILER SPOILER) ice is used to great effect to illustrate the final outcomes of the two lovers, frozen in both space and time. Their reconcilement is ennobled by the ice which preserves them together, as two souls who care for each other despite their own mistakes our societies.
It is for moments like that and scenes where the film seems to break free of traditional constraints that the film is worth watching. The story is a pretty traditional tale, I can only imagine a plot considered well-trodden in 1918 as much as it would be today. The weakest link in the chain is, sadly, Edith Erastoff as Halla. I am willing to accept her as a romantic lead, despite her not being as attractive to a modern sensibility as perhaps she was in her day. However, she mostly over-acts, while at the same time her character over-reacts. Sjostrom is far more subdued, and lets the viewer imagine his emotions, while she uses wild facial expressions and physical gestures to force us to into recognizing her emotions. The film is also not entirely gloom and arctic winter darkness; Sjostrom effectively captures the warmth and growth of Spring in the far North as we see the two leads raising their daughter together.
If water is almost a character in the film, the environment certainly is, as the two outlaws of the film's title wind up living by a cliff-face. The practical effect of this is that they must tie their toddler by a rope to their camp, so she doesn't accidentally fall off. This is a nice visual illustration of the dilemma faced by Halla and Eyvind. Without societal support, their existence in the wilderness, while at most times sustainable and content, is only one mere slip away from destroying them both utterly.