I came to this with zero Strindberg baggage — never read the play, barely knew it existed before sitting down to watch it. Probably should've done my homework, but it meant I was reacting to the film on its own terms.
And on those terms, there's a lot to like. Anita Björk plays Julie with real desperation simmering under all that composure, while Ulf Palme's Jean stays calculating without curdling into a pantomime villain, despite his Dick Dastardly hair and moustache. Alf Sjöberg works wonders with one house and one night, weaving flashbacks in so smoothly you barely notice the joins. The Cannes prize makes total sense — the craft's all there.
The thing is, the gender politics have aged terribly. Julie gets punished relentlessly for wanting anything at all, and the film seems entirely on board with that.
So: gorgeous filmmaking, slightly grim company. Worth watching, just don't expect it to be on her side.