by Sam Juliano
Ingmar Bergman was laid to rest on a misty morning in early August, 2007 on the island of Faro, where he spent the last years of his life. At the cinema master’s request the ceremony was short and attended by only 70, including celebrated Bergman stock company thespians, Liv Ullman, Max Von Sydow and Erland Josephson. Eulogies were noted for their brevity and the musical itinerery was a sparing employment of J.S. Bach by way of organ and cello. This modest presentation may be been selected for it’s simple purity, but it underscored a deep passion for classical music that manifested itself from the very earliest films. Music in Darkness (1948) tells the story of a young pianist left blind by a shooting accident; To Joy (1950) narrates the misfortunes of an ambitious violinist, and Summer Interlude (1951) recounts the life of a ballerina at the Stockholm Opera. Generous excerpts from Beethoven, Mozart or Mendelssohn are found in these films. In the opening feature of the celebrated “Faith Trilogy”, Through A Glass Darkly, the extensive use of classic compositions completely supplanted the original film music that was more common during the late 50’s period when Smiles of a Summer Night and Wild Strawberries appeared. In Darkly the ‘Sarabande’ from Bach’s Cello Suite no. 2 appears four times. It’s usage here signaled a marked upsurge in classical accompaniment all the way up to his final film Sarabande in 2003. While it’s clear that a number of the pieces were vital structural and metaphorical components in his deep philosophical inquiries, there was a clear enough passion for the intrinsic beauty of the music that was deftly used as a mood device. Robert Schumann’s ravishingly beautiful and gloriously romantic Piano Quintet in E-flat major set the tone for Fanny and Alexander under the film’s lengthy credit sequence, and underlined the film’s brighter contexts. Conversely, there is telling use of Bach’s Partita in Shame, The Passion of Anna and Hour of the Wolf that connotes despair in its rawest constriction, and the Bach passages in Cries and Whispers are used to piercing effect. Bergman connects characters to music a number of times, including the sequence in Autumn Sonata when Charlotte sketches the figure of Chopin, before beginning to play the Prelude, and the one where Johan listens at full blast to the scherzo of Bruckner’s Ninth Symphony in Sarabande. Lastly, Bergman experiments his sense of musical analysis during an entire film with In the Presence of a Clown, which recounts Schubert’s last days, in both a free and erudite manner.
Thus, it should have come to no surprise to anyone in the film community in 1973 that Bergman focused his attention on one of the greatest of all operas, Mozart’s The Magic Flute, a treasure trove of lyrical arias and duets and choral singing, but perhaps most significantly a showcase of broad comedy and spoken dialogue, components that allowed Bergman to further explore his love for theatre. Indeed, throughout his life, Bergman candidly told interviewers he preferred the stage to the screen, and preferred to be remembered for what he achieved in live venues. But Bergman understood from the very start that he needed to draw pointed attention to the artificiality and stylization of the operatic form, that is to say he balked at using realistic sets in the service of a form that was resoundingly theatrical. The director even goes a step further to accentuate the artificiality by setting the entire work in a theatre (the famed Drottningholm Court Theatre in Stockholm), where an audience watches a stage performance of The Magic Flute.
Broken down to its barest essentials the story of The Magic Flute equates to this: Tamino, a young prince, slays a dragon, encounters a trio of women, and through them the “Queen of the Night.” The Queen enlists his aid to emancipate her daughter, the beautiful Pamina from her allegedly evil father, Sarastro. Having fallen in love with a portrait of Palmina, Tamino and Papageno, a bird-catcher, set out to rescue her. They are armed against mortal danger with a magic flute and a set of bells. When they are captured by Sarastro, he decrees that Tamino and Pamina can wed, but only after Tamino has passed through a series of initiations. To complicate and delay the happy ending, the thwarted Queen plots to destroy the temple, but is foiled by the rising sun. This being a fairy tale opera, all’s well that ends well. Tamino and Pamina are happily united and Papageno finds love with a bird-woman of his own. All the followers of wisdom, including the triumphant lovers praise and thank Osiris and Iris. “The strong have won and as reward, are crowned with everlasting crown of beauty and wisdom.”
Composed in 1791, the last year of Mozart’s life, The Magic Flute is the final of a trio of operatic masterpieces that also includes Don Giovanni and Le Nozze di Figaro. Referred to by many as Die Zauberflote (it’s German title) the opera is a world away from the rococo sophistication of Cosi fan tutte (which preceeded it) both musically and morally. For the first time Mozart was composing an opera for the people of Vienna rather than for their emperor. The commission to write a new opera came from Emmanuel Schikaneder, an impressario who was also a famous Shakespearean actor, an inveterate carouser, and, like Mozart, a Freemason. He had a seemingly brilliant idea for a libretto–a sort of fairy tale with plenty of special effects (including storms and trick animals) and lots of comic relief, all done up in the Oriental style that had reportedly made such a hit at two competing playhouse that year. Mozart agreed, and the result was The Magic Flute, an opera that has been called both “the strangest of Mozart’s operas” and “The first and perhaps the only great masterpiece of music ever created deliberately for ‘the masses.’ Beethoven and Wagner were devoted admirers. George Bernard Shaw declared that it’s grand aria, “O Isis und Osiris” was “the only music which might be put into the mouth of God without blasphemy.” Schikaneder’s libretto is a hodgepodge of crowd-pleasing comedy, awe-inspiring pyrotechnics, and heartrending romance. But it is also a spiritual fable; the dreamy peregrinations of the plot are rife with Masonic symbols and thinly veiled references to Masonic beliefs. The acquisition of wisdom is the true subject of the opera; the moral center of the story comes into focus during Sarastro’s second-act aria, when he avows that “evil cannot survive when all people love one another. Anyone who does not accept this knowledge does not deserve to be a human being.” This coda, the foundation of Masonic belief, was undoubtedly an article of faith for both Mozart and Schikaneder, and the humanism and progressiveness that pervade the opera make it more earnest as well as more mysterious than any of Mozart’s previous works.
The Magic Flute premiered on September 30, 1791, and was accounted a great success almost immediately. Tragically, Mozart had little time to enjoy this triumph, for he died on December 5 at age 34, afflicted by the idea that he now had been the victim of poison. Though few scholars now give any credence to the old rumor that he was killed by the rival composer Salieri, Mozart’s sense of persecution was certainly real enough. Supposedly, it had all begun the previous summer, when a mysterious visitor delivered a letter without a signature” offering Mozart a substantial sum for arequiem mass, the sole stipulation being that Mozart was not to inquire into the identity of the patron. Accepting the commission, Mozart began work on the requiem, though he was already in the middle of two operatic works, The Clemency of Titus and The Magic Flute. When he was called suddenly to Prague later that summer the messenger reappeared “like a ghost’ according to Mozart’s wife Constance, to ask about his progress on the requiem. This visitation discomfited Mozart greatly and later in the year he became haunted by the notion that he was writing the piece for his own funeral. He continued to work on the requiem, but could not bring himself to finish it. As he lay dying, he was much preoccupied with the unfinished work, even attempting to organize rehearsals in his sickroom; but his final words were about The Magic Flute. He is reported to have imagined that he was at the theatre, where his sister-in-law, Josepha Hofer, was singing the part of the Queen of the Night, and he quoted to have said “Quiet, quiet! Hofer is just taking her top F;–now my sister-in-law is singing her second aria…how strongly she striles and holds the B-flat: ‘Hear, hear, hear the mother’s curse!” Soon thereafter, Mozart died.
Bergman, a self-confessed “conductor” at heart, brought his own metaphysical interpretation of the work, while modestly striving to emulate the playful underpinnings of the original 1791 production at the Theatre auf der Wieden in Vienna. Pre-eminant Bergman scholar Peter Cowie discloses that while the film is artificially set in the aforementioned Drottningholm Theatre, it was not actually shot there. Says Cowie:
“Bergman wanted to shoot the film inside the celebrated Drottningholm Palace (in a royal park on the outskirts of Stockholm) but the scenery was considered too fragile to accomodate a film crew. So the stage–complete with wings, curtains, and wind machines–was painstakingly copied and erected in the studios of the Swedish Film Institute, under the direction of Henny Noremark……Noremark and his colleagues painted each prop and backdrop in the same tone and shade as it would have been in the time of Mozart.”
Bergman asserts that Mozart wrote his score for The Magic Flute with a specific stage in mind, one that is around 22 feet wide. Once the construction was complete Bergman, no doubt feeding his own inclinations and suppressed talents, worked on the film’s score with conductor Eric Ericson and the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra, reportedly recording it in an old circus building. At this time he made the most crucial artistic decision that in the end was to distinguish this presentation of The Magic Flute like no other before and since. He utilized the “playback” method, which required that all the music is prerecorded by the artists and orchestra, then replayed in segments in the film studio until the moment the director is satisfied with both lip synchronization and acting performance. Indeed Cowie reveals:
“Ericson and Bergman paid meticulous attention to the tempi, phrasing, and dynamics of the recording, to ensure that the first-ever stereo soundtrack for a TV production would be well-nigh perfect.
Opera films nearly always offer up lip movements that are in tune with the words on the track, albit the spatial dimension is false. In Bergman’s The Magic Flute the voices are heard from precisely the exact positions on the set, allowing for three-dimensional intimacy. There are more than few instances where Bergman transforms the limitations of opera, making his production a filmic enterprise. During two Act II aria and at the climax he utilizes camera movements and quick editing to accomplish a dazzling viseral transformation. Bergman seems at home with the spiritual isolation that’s woven into the opera perhaps even more than he is with the upbeat conclusion. In a long section in Act One Tamino declares: “Oh endless night, will you never lighten? When will the darkness ever brighten? The ghostly response of the priests follow with “Soon—or never.” It’s almost as if Schikaneder was a clairvoyant and had knowledge of Bergman’s intentions of 200 years hence. In any case Schikaneder’s Shakespearean scholarship had a more profound effect on him than just acting stylistics. The use of the close-up is employed in this opera film to maximum effect, particularly in its comprehensive coverage of the audience members, and even in some delightful glimpses of life backstage during the intermission that reveals bored technicians, stage machinery faltering and Papageno fast asleep nearly missing a cue.
Of course, if one must substantiate the inclusion of an opera film in a countdown of the ‘greatest musicals ever made” one must draw some attention to the music in the opera, which in Bergman’s film is overwhelmingly faithful to the source material. Musicologists in recent decades have come to see the sublime beauty and bouncy playfulness in the score as the most mature Mozart, certainly equal in that regard to his beloved “Clarinet Concerto in A,” which also was written near the end of his life in the final year. Yet the scoring is extremely simple, compared with the richness of Idomeneo or La Nozze di Figaro, but each piece has exactly the right orchestration. There were no doubt various reasons for this simplicity–an orchestra less brilliant than that of the court theatre, the singspiel tradition and a less sophisticated audience, but it embraces essentials. It’s admittedly s strange mix with the opaque allegorical underpinnings, which have inspired more interpretive speculation than any opera outside the canon of Richard Wagner. We can fairly conclude that the mixure of the music includes popular tunes, high-art arias, and bel-canto display. (‘bel canto opera features long, flowing vocal lines) The style veers rapidly from one extreme to the other from one extreme to the other, ranging from exalted opera seria (The Queen of the Night and Serastro) to knockabout opera buffa (Papageno) in the space of a few minutes. And within that range lie some of the finest vocal writing music Mozart ever produced, from heartfelt love songs (Tamino’s love-at-first glimpse outpouring, “Dies Bildnis”) to silly exchanges (Papageno’s nonetheless delightful duet with Papagena, in which they sing “Pa-pa-pa-pa” some 48 times); and hair-raising coloratura dementia (the Queen of the Night’s murderous “Die Holle Rache.” In the end ozart succeeds in transforming in his music the sexual love between Tamino and Pamina into an ideal that breaks away from the conventions of baroque opera and sets the stage for the music-drama Tristan und Isolde by Wagner. Bergman’s singers and musicisns are accomplished as well they should be, but they are no match for a number of studio recordings on record, with Otto Klemperer’s 1964 version with Nicolai Gedda, Lucia Popp, Gundula Janowitz and Gottlob Frick with the Philharmonia Orchestra standing tallest.
At the end of the day one must profess more than a little wonderment at the collaboration of who is arguably the greatest filmmaker of all-time, directing a production composed by a man who is arguably considered be the greatest in Western civilization, of an opera that is considered by some to be the greatest ever written. Somehow this all makes sense, and the wedding is a can’t miss. The results have confirmed this perception.
How The Magic Flute made the elite 70:
Dennis Polifroni’s No. 16 choice
Sam Juliano’s No. 32 choice
While it is not my favorite of Mozart’s operas (I leave that title to DON GIOVANNI-I think Mozart would be proud of my statement as he felt it was his own personal best), this is definately one of my favorite Bergman films.
But, why?
Frankly, while it does harbor many of the themes that are dominant in many of his films, to me this is the only film in his canon where the director doesn’t have a big metaphorical agenda under his belt. This is Bergman having fun and paying respect to something that has given his own life juch joy and reprise from the heaviness he bore in life.
I recently saw the documentary BERGMAN ISLAND, and that film (which is a documentary based on 4 days of interviews with the famed reclusive director) saw Bergman open up and speak honestly and frankly about his work. He said he felt he owed something to classical music, that he NEEDED to make THE MAGIC FLUTE to give back to so many that have given to him. He stated he was very proud of this film and was busting to show it off to those involved the moment the editing was done. The film was premiered in his private theatre on Faro where his troupe anf his closest collaborators made a party of the event. he firmly believed that the joys in life should be shared with those you love.
Well, I firmly believe that Bergman was in love with his audiences as much as the people closest to him. It’s the audiences that embraced his films and called for more and more and more. Bergman gave us deeply felt drama and horror and, sometimes, the most biting humor. With THE MAGIC FLUTE he gave us a glimpse at something HE loved and shared that love with us with the best interpretation of this material ever offered to film.
Sam has written, if I may be so bold, his finest essay to date. It’s one of learned facts and critical observance. However, beyond that and most of all, it’s a tremendous piece about a film that stirred, quite possibly, the greatest director film has ever seen and, in turn, stirred Sam. I mean, you can feel the love coming off the page of this essay with every word written and read. I’ve always said Sam is at his best when he writes about music, and his conversations with me have always taken on a full blown passion when the subject is Bergman (his personal favorite film-maker)…
Looks like Sam has found the perfect collision here.
Honestly, this essay left me speechless…
Dennis—
I will have the check ready for you tonight. Make sure you get over here though, as a nasty hurricane is making it’s way to us with promised record-breaking ferocity.
So much of what you say about long held passions and pointed artistic hankerings are true, and your own enthusiasm speaks for itself. As far as Bergman being my favorite filmmaker of them all I often do think that way. Seems he alternates with Chaplin, Ozu and Bresson.
Thanks for your great friendship and gigantic heart.
Well, he’s definately on my list as one of the 5 or 10 greatest directors of all time.
As for the payment, I only take cash and in small bills to throw off the governments. Shake-downs a bitch, Sam, but, you want it, you gotta PAY FOR IT!!!!!!
LOL!!!!!!
Happy B-Day SCHMULEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
LOL! Thanks for that Dennis!
Sam, a wonderfully knowledgeable post on a very difficult subject. I was especially impressed by your insights into the way Bergman applied the techniques of cinema to opera to enhance the vividness of the experience for the viewer, and also by your extensive and expert analysis of the music, which is, of course, sublime. I also found your placement of the opera within the oeuvre of Mozart and this film within the oeuvre of Bergman extremely informative and very clearly presented. I consider myself reasonably familiar with the films of Bergman–the better known ones anyway–but have always considered “The Magic Flute” to be something of an anomaly in his filmography. However, your post showed how comfortably it fits in not only with this other films, but also with his fascination with theater and music. The countdown has now covered film adaptations of Broadway plays, an operetta, an animated Disney film, and a film version of an opera–a good reminder of how diverse a genre the film musical really is, encompassing a far greater range of works than ordinarily comes to mind when one thinks “musical movie.”
Boy you really know how to make a guy smile from ear to ear R.D. But I can’t thank you enough for your all-encompassing, intricate evaluation of my review. I knew from the start that it would be essential to examine the director’s work, and lifelong passion for opera ande classical music as well as the masterpiece opera that he took on here. That’s a telling observation too of the countdown’s arc so far, one that I can see will have further most interesting and well divergences along the way.
Thanks again!
An amazing insightful post – since I never look at films like this – and, have never seen this particular version – Appreciate the time you’ve taken to look at this, and will gladly add it to my list of to view –
As an aside, I wish ya’ll well in and around NY in the upcoming days – it’s been talked about (tornado/hurricane) and here it is –
Will be thinking of you –
Thanks so much for that Michael! This is surely a seminal work, both in the catalogue of vital opera films, and in Ingmar Bergman’s filmography.
The hurricane that is marching toward us in the NYC area (Irene) is indeed very frightening. Every time you hear the latest revision, you are regaled with further bleak scenarios. Thanks my friend for the concern!
Sam –
Wonderful write-up, as always. I blush to tell you that I have not seen this one. (I really tried to work it into my pre-countdown cramming, but ran out of time.) From everything you say here, I’m sure I would love this. I am woefully underexperienced with Bergman at this point – which is ironic sinceI I joined Netflix the day after he died precisely so that I could catch up on his work (and Antonioni’s, who died the same day.) To date – four years later! – I have only managed to add PERSONA and the complete SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE to the paltry handful of Bergman films I had already seen. ( the surfeit of delights on Netflix made it hard for me to keep focused on my original mission.) This post makes me anxious to dive back into the Bergman films, and be sure to see this one soon. Thanks.
Pat–
As always thank you for the exceedingly kind words! While I am admittedly surprised you didn’t get to this one, I can well understand the difficulty of cramming so much material in a short time span. But yes, Pat, this most assuredly is your cup of tea. Of that I have no doubt at all. That’s amazing that he is the prime reason why you joined netflix, regardless if you’ve had time or not to conduct a comprehensive examination of his work. Yes, the world of cinema lost two giants within 20 hours that day, and nothing been the same ever since. I am particularly intrigued at what you might think of FANNY AND ALEXANDER, CRIES AND WHISPERS, WILD STRAWBERRIES, THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY, THE VIRGIN SPRING, THE SILENCE, and THE SEVENTH SEAL, but there are a number of others. I actually envy you for having these ahead of you for the first time! Ha!
Thanks again my friend!
Sam,
I remember seeing this and thinking how boisterous it was. It has joie de vivre. I haven’t listened to enough opera to be able to tell good singing from great but I enjoyed it regardless. A very good and thorough review, Sam.
Just 65 to go. I’m looking forward to the rest.
Loved that ‘joie de vivre’ Stephen! And yes ‘boisterous’ is a great word to describe it! Great to hear you know this film well, as my fear with this selection has always been that few of the readers here have seen it, even if they know Mozart’s opera in a general sense.
Thanks for your much-valued comment and enthusiasm for the musical countdown my friend!
I hate to blow your cover buddy…….but……HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! I even used your patented caps to make the announcement!
I have a question for you. How will you ever be able to top this incredible, monumental study? It’s impossible to fathom a greater examination of anything at this site, much less a single entry in a musical countdown.
The first paragraph is titanic, and sets the remainder of the tome. To examine Bergman’s love of music by tracing all the compositions that are used in most of his films is a terrific way to initiate the review, but you go so much further with scholarly elan.
I’ve seen plenty of Bergman, but sorry to say, not this film. I await the opportunity.
Stay safe Sam. No Saturday night movie trips. That would be risking your life with this terrible storm approaching. Go out tonight and leave it at that.
And have a piece of cake on me.
Frank–
I can always depend on you to blow my cover! Ha! I did receive a birthday card from Pierre de Plume and an e mail card from the lovely Laurie Buchanan to remind me of online joys and great friendships though. I’ll keep mt age a secret though as I march through my 50’s.
Since I have always been charged as a king of hyperbole (as has Dennis Polifroni) I guess I can’t take you to task for your over-the-top assessment of this essay. Fact is the project has been getting some great work every day from a variety of writers, and I’m just happy and satisfied I’m managing to keep pace. Nothing more. Bergman’s love of classical music has always had me enthralled from when I first started watching his films way back in 1971. I guess my favorite employment of all what what he did with Schumann’s “Piano Quintet” in FANNY AND ALEXANDER. That’s sublimity incarnate.
Lucille has already warned me about potential foolhardy ventures on Saturday night. My place is indeed home here with the family. Heck, somebody has to protect this DVD collection from the flooding!
Thanks for this amazing comment, my wonderful friend!
Happy Birthday sir!
Ingmar who? I don’t touch the stuff.
Let’s talk about Irene. Better yet let’s not.
hahahahahahaha Joe! Your comment here reminds me of what has been long missed at this site. Yes, Irene is bearing in, even while we are enjoying a sunny, moderate Friday here. You’d never think what is lurking around the corner.
Thanks for the birthday greetings!
I’ll join in the chorus and extend my birthday greetings Sam.
Sorry to hear my heathen friend Frank never got around to this one. It’s actually one of my favorite Bergmans. And because it’s an opera, and a confluence of music and theatre, it’s easy to return to. What I liked best about the film was the way Bergman kept the audience involved in an interactive way. It’s funny, but I was bored with Metropolitan Opera production I saw (with you) about six years ago, as you may recall. The music is beautiful, but there are some tedious passages.
As to your review, I can’t say it offers surprises. This is your area of expertise, and you have gone the distance. It’s one of your best pieces.
Yes, I’m afraid I’m a heathen Fred. Guilty as charged.
I never knew you saw this opera with Sam at the Met. Sam never takes me anywhere.
Hey the sidebar is rocking again today. I know that’s Dee Dee’s dirty work.
Great stuff.
Fred–
I vaguely recall that you weren’t all that impressed with that opera that we saw together. True enough. But I well remember your opinion of this film, and knew I could depend on you for a quality response on this thread. The audience involvement is indeed a prime joy in this film, and what really sets it apart in a structural sense. But it’s got Bergman’s name written all over it, and it’s far more than just a vehicle for the director’s completists. It’s one of the greatest of all opera films.
Thanks for the kind words and the greetings!
Sam,
It seems Happy Birthday is in order. Hope it’s a great one. Great review and good in-depth examination of the place both within the musicals realm and of Bergman’s films. As you might know, Bergman is my favorite director. But, I’ve never gotten into this film. I’ve tried watching a few times and I don’t believe opera films are my cup of tea. I’ve seen 3 operas in person with my wife, and loved them. We’re going again later this year in Chicago. But opera films are a different thing. This may or may not be the film to really quibble with, as it truly is from a cinematic director. But I’ve always wondered respectfully, whether opera films are truly cinematic. I’m of the opinion that opera should be seen live. Again, great thorough examination of the film and the opera. I think I just don’t consider opera films as a cinematic necessity. I await your reply good friend.
Jon–
Thanks for the birthday greetings and well wishes. Yes, I know well that Bergman is your favorite director of them all, and you’ve backed that up with some masterful essays of your own of his work at FILMS WORTH WATCHING. Bergman was my hero all through my teenage and college years, and I will never forget teh film festivals of his I attended to completism through the years. In recent years I’ve juggled him, Ozu, Chaplin and Bresson, but when push comes to shove I will be Bergman No. 1 director, while Chaplin is the most versatile genius. Buty heck, I just tried to make a case here for Bergman’s exceeding versatility. He loves music, and could have been a conductor. He is a first-class writer, and he knows acting as well as anyone through his theatre experience and his ability to extract electrifying soul-bearing performances from his women especially.
Should opera be seen live? That’s become a hot question these days. Normally I’d answer with a resounding yes. But exorbitantly high ticket prices in most major houses that usually downgrades the seating sight lines (standing room is often an only option) has reduced the real sense of intimacy that for the longest time was the overriding advantage of being there, and has elevated teh new HD simulcast screenings as premium ways to enjoy opera, especially with its own interactive audience, the effective use of close-ups, and superb sound presentation. To boot, one is treated to intermission interviews and all sorts of enrichment goodies during the breaks.
I’d say the final determination is clouded. I still do both. I go to the Met and City Opera several times a year, and I attend a great number of the simulcasts. I try and have it both ways.
Thanks for the awesome comment here my friend!
Masterful presentation, Sam. Your account makes very clear why Bergman would tackle this work. It also offers a most cogent sense of a precedent for peculiar depths in musicals.
As always your incredible command of the language and peerless insights give me a special thrill Jim, and I’m honored to get this kind of a response. Many thanks my friend!
I will join all the others in celebration of a first-class scholarly treatment of an important film that stands as a high water mark for this blogsite. That said I will say that Josef Kostlinger is an inadequate Tamino and Birgit Nordin is surprisingly mediocre. But it’s understandable that getting a world-class soprano to sing in Swedish is no easy task. The saving grace in the cast of course is Hakan Hagegard, who is a top-rank Papageno. Eric Ericson’s Swedish Radio Orchestra is outstanding though. The Magic Flute is considered a “Masonic” work by many–and features the battle between evil and good, where a surprise lies in that the original turns out to be evil. The leading character passes through three tests–including trials by darkness, silence and fire.
This production lays fair claim as the best of all filmed productions on balance, though one must accept the singing in Swedish, which fits in the Germanic structure in a number of ways. The use of the theatre works quite well in establishing intimacy and atmosphere. Some have criticized the use of excessive close-ups (I know you defend it in your review convincingly) as overly intrusive, but it’s what intensifies the focus.
Bill–
Thanks for those brilliant insights. Having you comment is always a special treat, and your amazing knowledge is precisely what the doctor ordered for these threads! You are right in saying that those leads weren’y the best out there at the time, though we agree on Hagegard, who was sublime. The Swedish Radio Orchestra too were at their beguiling best. Bravo on what you say about the use of close-ups, and the discussion of the Swedish-German connection is most appreciated.
Your exceeding compliment here is valued my friend!
Wonderful write-up – I loved the first paragraph especially (great opening recapping his funeral), as I’d never really reflected on how often Bergman utilized classical compositions in his films. And a great video clip too, especially that charming conclusions.
And happy birthday!
Joel–
Thanks for the exceedingly kind words! The simplicity and serenity of Bergman’s funeral stayed with me ever since. It seemed altogether fitting that he would request sparing use of Bach, (who with Mozart) were his favorite composers. I did want to establish this strong connection mainly to demonstrate that Bergman’s willingness to embrak on this project was really an outgrowith of his most passionate artistic hankering, certainly the equal to his taste for the theatre. There was an atmospheric tone to his funeral that accenuated his larger than life stature. I love that video clip too!
Thanks for the birthday greetings my friend!
This essay was obviously a labor of love, and ‘The Magic Flute’ is a lovely film that also says something indirectly about the quality of Swedish TV.
Hell, even perennial Bergman-basher Kael relents and gives this one a rave.
Happy birthday, Sam, and stay hunkered down this weekend.
Mark–
Thanks very much my friend! As I stated to Peter, I’ll admit I proceeded here with quite a bit of feeling for the material. Yes, Dennis actually placed this higher on his ballot, as the numbers show at the end of the essay. There are a few other opera films that I voted higher (LA TRAVIATA, PARSIFAL, DON GIOVANNI) but great as some of the directors of those films are, none are remotely in a league with Bergman. Good point too about Swedish TV. I do weell remember Kael’s love for this one. She did actually like some other Bergman’s, but she’ll always be infamous for her assessment of the masterpiece SAWDUST AND TINSEL. She curtly opined: “SAWDUST AND TINSEL” is powerful all right. It’s powerfully awful!” God, she was so off the mark with that one!
Thanks for both the birthday greetings and the sage advice on Hurricane Irene my friend! I think I’ll be heeding it.
One of the most remarkable scholarly writings I’ve ever laid eyes on at this site. It seems appropriate Sam, that it would come from your pen. And that opening is really something. That entire first paragraph gives me goosebumps.
The mesonic theme of this opera always fascinated me. I understand Betthoven himself loved it for that reason alone. But I’m sure the beauty of the music has something to do with it too.
It’s choice for this countdown is real classy.
And I wish you a Happy Birthday and hope you and Lucille have something special planned.
Peter–
Are you sure you are not really a close friend of Dennis’s? Are you in on the pay-out? Ha!
There has to be more than a few readers that come to this site who must be ready to heave over the reception I’m getting among my school colleagues, though I see there is significant overlap this time. So it’s not all cheerleading. As I said before I appreciate being able to pull my weight with this glorious project, and this particular placement has unearthed some real passion for the subject and the director, that allowed me to up the ante a bit. I agree with what you say about that Masonic underpinning.
I haven’t yet planned anything for tonight’s “Last Supper.” Ha! But a movie is probable, especially since I never mad eit last night to that four hour screening of THE ICEMAN COMETH in the Robert Ryan Festival.
Bergman asserts that Mozart wrote his score for The Magic Flute with a specific stage in mind, one that is around 22 feet wide. Once the construction was complete Bergman, no doubt feeding his own inclinations and suppressed talents, worked on the film’s score with conductor Eric Ericson and the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra, reportedly recording it in an old circus building. At this time he made the most crucial artistic decision that in the end was to distinguish this presentation of The Magic Flute like no other before and since. He utilized the “playback” method, which required that all the music is prerecorded by the artists and orchestra, then replayed in segments in the film studio until the moment the director is satisfied with both lip synchronization and acting performance.
I’d have trouble picking a piece you’ve written here that I like more then this one, I sort of assume now that this countdown will provide you with material for your best work (since clearly the musical is dear to your heart). I love this passage as it appears to be a laying down the way in which most music videos are done today (and even some concert videos), taking multiple takes with the same audio over top then in post just syncing everything up with stereo sound you’ve professionally recorded at a different time. It seems obvious, but it would’ve taken a bit of technical bravado and technological catch-up. Either way, amidst all the technical virtuosity Bergman does get at an emotional connection in the work too. It’s a wonderful mix of staged opera in a theater and live action film.
The Magic Flute will always remain special to me, it was the first opera I ever saw live done by ‘real’ professionals (in Chicago a few years ago). I sought this film out soon after that great experience, and have revisited it a few times since.
Again, great essay.
“The Magic Flute will always remain special to me, it was the first opera I ever saw live done by ‘real’ professionals (in Chicago a few years ago). I sought this film out soon after that great experience, and have revisited it a few times since.
Again, great essay.”
I don’t think a lovier sentiment could be passed down as a fonder memory than that. Whatya say, Schmulee? It’s amazing to me the connections music has on the individual and, as Jamie has proven with his massive and spectacular UK pop series, music can, at the very least, be transportive. Who says there is no such thing as time travel?
Jamie–
Thanks for the passage reference and for these exceedingly appreciated kind words. I am most pleased that you like this essay best as it’s one whose subject is dear to my heart. Apparently it’s dear to your heart as well, and proof parcel that opera may yet resonate with you in a big way. heck, for anyone who loves music like you do, and who knows as much about as any other single person, I’d say there’s more than a fair chance. I never remembered you telling me about that operatic venture in Chicago. I assume it was at the ‘lyric’ opera, which is absolutely one of the U.S. opera showcase houses. Nice. There is will always be a soft spot for the initial visit. The first opera I ever saw on a stage was Puccini’s TOSCA back in the early 80’s. I still adore that opera, but the first appearance remains as vivid in my recollections as if it were yesterday.
I know the passage you use is especially interesting to you as it parallels the techniques used in music videos and I much appreciate the meticulous explanation there!
yes, it was the Lyric Opera! It’s actually come back:
http://www.lyricopera.org/tickets/production.aspx?performanceNumber=10319
Perhaps I’ll see it again in December, I’d like to.
That’s a fantastic video clip there Jamie! Great news on it’s return there. That’s an opera house I simply MUST visit and hopefully very soon. Can’t blame you for considering another ticket! Rene Fleming is all over the place! Ha!
you should, I could be your guide.
Jamie–that is a given! It will happen, I assure you!
I prefer the Italian operas to the ones composed by Mozart. When I hear Bergman’s name I take notice. Perhaps a screening of this can be arranged at some point?
Bob—
To be honest there are few opera fans who will say they like Mozart’s operas “better” than the ones written by Mozart, which are frankly an acquired taste. Many people, attuned to the melodious lines of bel canto and the Italian masters, can’t quite appreciate the fall back from that style, although there are singular wonderments in baroque music too.
A screening indeed!
Sam, Wishing you a happy birthday and many more…and hoping everyone in IRENE’S path stays safe and cautious!
John–
Thanks so much for that my friend! And yes, it’s clear that the reports are real, and that we are in for a whopper in every sense. The New York City subways have already been closed at noon tomorrow, well before the storm is due to strike. That should tell you something. And my good friend Alan Hardy at the Film Forum tells me they shutting it down for tomorrow and Sunday. It’s rare to do that in advance, but this is a rare phenomenon. Thanks again.
Hello! Sam Juliano,
That “little brat” asked me to drop this cake off and wish you a very Happy Birthday! today. (Why she didn’t do this herself is a mystery that Poirot, Christie, and Holmes wouldn’t be able to figure out???? lol)
By the way, I hope that you have a good-one too!
Nice musical countdown too!
God, you and your sister are saints, and know how to make a grown man cry. What a lovely present. You two show the best side of humanity.
Wasn’t home all day and just got on the site now at 1:55 am EST. Happy Birthday Sam. Never seen The Magic Flute (maybe parts on TCM, but who can remember), but your piece here is great. Funny that Artesmia has the identical writing style of noir queen Dee Dee. Get Marlowe on the case quick!!!!
Thanks so much Maurizio for the birthday greetings and exceedingly kind words for the review. I think you would like this film quite a bit.
Oh! yes, I hope you, your family, friends and people living in that area stay safe too!
Thanks so much for that too. It promises to be quite a storm; let’s just hope damage is minimal. I have a wife, five kids, three dogs, two cats, two parrots…………….almost 6,000 DVDs and 2,000 CDs. LOL!!!!
Sam Juliano,
All I can say is…Wow! Wee! You have a lot at stake there in your life with the most precious being your five children and wife…Just a little rhyme.
lol indeed!
By the way, you share a birthday with director Tim Burton(Oops! his birthday was yesterday) too!
Ah, I’m in fair enough company there with Burton, Artesmia! Ha!
“Funny that Artesmia has the identical writing style of noir queen Dee Dee. Get Marlowe on the case quick!!!!”
Hi! Maurizio…
Oh! no, we are two very different people…First Of all, I would “never” use these two words together: Wow! Wee!
Secondly, I don’t make it a habit to insult people…Or being insulting.
…Thirdly, I have a bad habit Of capitalizing my “O” in the middle Of a sentence…lol and
Finally, you will always see my trademark [smiley] 🙂 [Brackets used incorrectly,] and Three Continuation…Dots] used in my comments.
Not to mention the fact, that I sometimes quote other commenter at the top Of my comment to point out a fact, or to answer that comment specifically.
By the way, I’m still the Princess Of Noir…Because I haven’t been crowned yet, by the real Queen Of Noir…lol
[An addendum: Thanks, for the insult Maurizio…Most importantly, I know that director Tim Burton was born on the 25th Of August…not on Sam Juliano’s birthday.lol!]
deedee 😉
LOL Dee Dee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You are still the Queen of Noir as I see it, and Iwe of course know full well Maurizio’s comments were an affectionate regard for your delightful sense of humor. Thanks again my friend.
Happy Birthday a day late from me, Sam! Hurricane Irene does sound very worrying from the latest news – glad to hear you are staying indoors! We are following the news in the UK and thinking of all of you.
I must join the chorus of praise for this essay – clearly a labour of love for you, Sam. I will admit I know very little about opera, and also haven’t seen the Magic Flute on stage, but I have watched this film and enjoyed it a lot. I especially like the gorgeous scenery and props in the scenes where we pull back and see the theatrical setting (the animals which turn out to hear the magic flute the first time Tamino plays it are a highlight), so am fascinated to learn from your piece that this was based on how it would have appeared in Mozart’s day. (Do you know if the hot air balloon was in the original production? I don’t suppose they could have had the machinery to make it fly in 1791, but if they included a balloon at all, then that is a reference to the latest technology at the time.) It is also helpful to me to learn about the Masonic themes – I was rather puzzled by the brotherhood in the film, so this explains a lot.
I have seen quite a few Bergman films, but in many cases this was years ago and my memories of them have faded, so I also especially appreciated you setting the film in the context of his other work. I liked the focus on the audience during the overture, with shots of different individuals, and thought this worked well in helping to pull in a viewer such as myself who has seen few operas and might feel it isn’t for me. However I did feel that later on there are too many lingering close-ups of the little girl reacting to the changing emotions of the opera – she does have a wonderfully expressive face, but the camera returns to her so much that it starts to interrupt the flow, I felt.
Judy—
You are a peach. Thanks so much for the birthday greetings and for this comprehensive and most flattering assessment of my review. And thanks too for the concern you have for Irene’s path up the east coast. It has actually started raining now as I write this, and the storm is still technically 500 miles south of us. Your terrific commentary throughout has been a real blessing for this project, but this is hardly surprising. Needless to say I am thrilled that you have seen this film, and appreciate the use of the audience, an aspect that set this one apart from the others. I know the excessive use of close-ups has not worked for everyone, and I dare say you have a good point that it interrupts the flow. Agreed too on the theatrical prestation and what you say about Tamino. I do believe the balloon was a prop in the original production, but I’ll have to research that to be sure. As one of our comments here revealed, even Beethoven was enamored of teh Masonic theme, as he was one himself at that time. But yes, Bergman’s adherence to period staging was a real delight, tantamount to performing concertos and symphonies on period instruments.
Thanks again. You are really special my friend.