Occasionally there are filmmakers so highly regarded both within and outside of their own country that they come to represent the totality of cinema for that nation.  One such example is the great Ingmar Bergman, a man certainly deserving of his illustrious status in world cinema, but whose gargantuan reputation has cast a shadow over a number of excellent directors working in Sweden.  Alf Sjöberg's Miss Julie is as good as almost any film in the Bergman canon, yet only since its recent Criterion release have its many charms begun to be unearthed by the critical community.  The film opens with a long shot of a line of servants gleefully prancing around the field on the estate where they work.  At first their situation seems sublime and it is understandable why Miss Julie, the count's daughter, sneaks out to attend their parties.  It soon becomes apparent that the strict 19th Century morals strongly frown upon mixing of the classes and when Julie's flirtations with an attractive young servant turn into true feelings, the oppressive nature of their environment is exposed.  Julie and her lover, Jean, who has lived on the estate since his childhood wish only to be together, but realize it is impossible unless they leave.

It's a simple enough story on the surface that becomes something far more emotionally gratifying through its carefully detailed characters and Sjöberg's astoundingly beautiful direction.  He uses unique editing techniques to seamlessly weave flashbacks into the present, creating a vivid portrait of class barriers, overbearing social mores and the torrid, forbidden love affair that is effected by it.  The result is an incredibly layered narrative where the psychology of the characters and the details of their class status are traced back to their roots.  A beautiful sequence detailing an encounter the two had as children shows the demoralization and constant negative reinforcement that is bestowed upon members of the lower class, not only dehumanizing them but turning them into mindlessly subserviant slaves.  The story of Julie's mother is evidence of the suffering of women at the hands of men and her brutal revenge, starting with her eery laugh when her husband learns she gave birth to a girl, is the only way to achieve her freedom.  These scenes are intertwined with the present where Miss Julie and Jean struggle to escape to Switzerland and while they begin as parallels, the two periods merge into a singular, grandiose tragedy.  In their final attempt to flee without being detected, they see the servants dancing in the distance and slowly approaching them in a shot reminiscent of the opening, but in a devastating turn of events, what, at one time, represented a reprieve from social oppression now shows the danger lying in both classes blind reinforcement of their archaic rules and principles.