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-

Clear sound production allows the impressive quality of all the principals' voices to come across gloriously. The heroic and adoring character of Tamino and Pamina are presented with notable conviction. The comic couple, Papageno and Papagena, are completely delightful to watch and listen to. Sarastro's role is acted with admirable reserve and sung with both authoritativeness and finesse. Altogether, this movie displays a craftsmanship wonderful to behold.

Some opera-buff acquaintances of mine have called Ingmar Bergman's movie of "The Magic Flute" the only good opera film ever made. While I don't know enough about opera to be able to accurately judge that, this movie is certainly a delightful experience. Sung in Swedish by a cast of photogenic Scandinavians, the film both looks and sounds wonderful.

With its fairy-tale plot and passages of spoken dialogue in addition to singing, "The Magic Flute" is already a very accessible opera. Bergman accentuates this by taking an unpretentious "Opera for Everyone" approach, exemplified by his close-up shots of audience members' faces as the overture plays. His production mostly has an 18th-century rococo/ Neoclassical look, though there are a few jarringly modern touches, such as writhing dancers in the last scene. Other than that, this seems a pretty faithful (if shortened) version of the opera that captures its comedy as well as its serious themes.

Mozart's music is both gorgeous and character-appropriate: lyrical arias for aristocratic lovers Tamino and Pamina, powerful coloratura for the vengeful Queen of the Night, folksy melodies for the bird-catcher Papageno. Papageno, a lovable Everyman type, is probably my favorite character in the opera, and Hakan Hagegard does the role justice. Ingmar Bergman's movies are known for their focus on human psychology, and even though "The Magic Flute" is a fantasy, the cast members make their actions believable. They do not just stand and sing like divas; they become tangible human beings.

This collaboration across the centuries between two great artists, Mozart and Bergman, yielded a lovely result. Highly recommended for novice opera-watchers and serious opera buffs alike--though I'm sure many opera fans have already seen this treat of a movie.

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.