La flûte enchantée

The Magic Flute is a special kind of movie that may work better for fans of Mozart, or work better for fans of Bergman. And in general if you like opera it might hit your 'wow' button as being something different. Before getting to it, I was almost taken aback as I watched it, as I thought perhaps Bergman had picked this opera due it being incredibly tragic or emotionally draining (as I didn't know much about the opera aside from it being a Mozart one).

It turns out this might be one of the only operas- maybe THE only- one I would consider ever watching again, or even hearing. As I'm not that big a fan of the kind of music (unless it's being done by Visconti on film or Woody's Match Point), it was a pleasant surprise to see Bergman make the opera right on the stage, putting all the artifice where it belongs. The very beginning of the film is particularly striking and interesting, with all of the close-ups suggesting this could be something different than it is- maybe something more 'heavy'- as it is once again lensed by Sven Nyvkist. But it isn't; this, along with Smiles of a Summer Night, are the most light-hearted films ever made by the usually tragic and introspective filmmaker.

Mozart's tale is that of any given fairy tale, the kind that you either give yourself completely to as when you were a kid or not much at all. Sometimes one of the problems that comes when I try and watch an opera is really 'getting' a story out of it when I'm more focused on the singing and pageantry. But Mozart's story is simple enough- about a man (Tamino, played by Josef Kostlinger) trying to find a woman (Pamina played by Irma Urrilla) who has been offered to her by her mother the Queen, even as a bird hunter follows him.

It could be a possible deterrent, too, with having the opera in total Swedish (sometimes glancing down at the words, all simple to a level little children might sign at), but I didn't mind that much either after a while. This is partly due to Bergman and Nykvist (and the production design and costumes and such, all lending to the more wonderful theatrical productions that Bergman was always capable of) keeping a good, lush hold on the production values and mood. But it's also due to the performers being rather good in their archetypal roles.

Along with this, Bergman incorporates this as being a production going on by once in a while going backstage as the opera goes through its motions, more or less, with ease. It's a nice send-up to have that, as Bergman recognizes that through all of the cheesy bits of sets and lights, the actors are really what counts. And, of course, the filmmaker also shows a genuine affection for the music, and it becomes one of Mozart's most memorable, lively pieces at different points, providing moving melodies and songs, and even some doses of comedy with the couple Papageno and Papagena.

It might not be for those who just can't take opera or classical music, and it might be strange for some Bergman fans to see right after Cries and Whispers or Shame. But if you give yourself to the material, and realize how beautiful escapist it can be, Bergman still kicks in his own style, without too much getting in the way, and it often fits together without conflict. A-

An excellent movie, one of my all-time favorites. I watch it more often than I listen to "Die Zauberflote" on CD.

Bergman changes the story slightly and shuffles some of the musical pieces around, but the result makes better sense than the original. Pamina's struggle is presented as a custody battle between Mother and Father. The depression of wintertime in the far north is brought out clearly in the attempted-suicide scene. And all the knicknacks and props lying around...are pure Sweden! I didn't realize that until I visited Gothenburg last fall.

Bergman's comical, warm and cozy images really fit the music. Not that "The Magic Flute" from Mozart needs much improving...after all, 9 out of 10 German composers agree that it is the "perfect" German Opera. But Bergman's images go with it so well I consider it the perfect staging of the opera.

It is not surprising at all that having been a long-time an admirer of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's music and especially his opera "Die Zauberflöte" ("The Magic Flute"), Ingmar Bergman has adapted it in one of the best and enjoyable operatic film ever made. Watching Bergman's presentation of "The Magic Flute" does not require from a viewer an extensive opera-going experience or familiarization with all his often morose psychological studies. "The Magic Flute" (the opera or/and the film) can be enjoyed on different levels. It has many hidden philosophical and political references which were relevant back in 18th century but it is also a beautiful and poetic fairy tale which has many funny scenes (thanks to Papageno, the bird-catcher) as well as lyrical and tender scenes between two young lovers, and the dark ones with the sinister sorcerers. I've seen "The Magic Flute" in the different countries, in different versions and adaptations but I enjoyed the most Ingmar Bergman's vision of it. In 1975 National Society of USA Film Critics awarded Ingmar Bergman with a Special Award - for demonstrating how pleasurable opera can be on film. There is nothing I can add only that Mozart + Bergman+ Flute = Magic.

I first saw Ingmar Bergman's version of W.A. Mozart's (1756-1791) Die Zauberflote on betamax way back in the 90's. I really fell in love with Mozart's works after that. This terrific 1975 rendition is magical and stays true to what Mozart probably intended it to be. A great opera singspiel.

Adapting theater to the screen is not easy. It is difficult enough to film a play; staying too close to the text can render the tone too "stagy," while "opening up" the story can cause it to lose its authentic feel. Filming opera is twice as problematic- there is so much that is rooted to the stage and simply cannot be pulled away. How is it possible to film something that has been performed in such a specific, disciplined way for hundreds of years and keep all the elements fully intact? The answer has been provided by Ingmar Bergman, a man known to most of the world for harrowing films which peer unsentimentally into the depths of the human soul. With "The Magic Flute," Bergman takes another great talent of his- theater direction- and combines it with his cinematic abilities to create an elaborate fantasy that even his detractors can enjoy.

Rather than just treating Mozart's opera as a story to be filmed, Bergman relies on familiar themes within the narrative to strike a balance between the stage and the screen while keeping the audience involved throughout. This is not to say that the story is simplified or made abundantly clear to any half-attentive viewer; the surprising accessibility of the film comes not from any reconstruction of the story but rather from an emphasis on elements that today's audience can easily recognize: sacrifices that are made for love, rebellion against the amoral nature of one's community, and magical occurrences that pop up just in time to save the hero, to name a few. Although the opera itself unfolds on a stage, with frequent reaction shots of the audience, Bergman's direction keeps us so deeply involved that tone is distinctly that of a film. Indeed, `The Magic Flute' proves to be a very cinematic opera, and there are moments when the imagery, theatrical as it is, becomes so overwhelming that Bergman has to cut to the audience to remind us that we are in a theater.

`The Magic Flute' is evidence that the `epic' existed long before movies, and that much of what we enjoy viewing today owes its style to stories that have been told through vastly different mediums for centuries on end.