Day 70: The Magic Flute (1975)

In 1791, German composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and libretto writer Emanuel Schikaneder, brought to the city of Vienna “The Magic Flute,” an opera in two acts that quickly became one of the most successful and appreciated works in all of opera history. In 1975, a 184 years after it’s first performance, acclaimed film director Ingmar Bergman brought the story to the big screen, but left it very much with the theatrical style seen in stages all around the world.

In “The Magic Flute,” the curtain opens, literally in this case, on Tamino, a handsome and brave prince, who finds himself pursued by a deadly serpent and without the energy to run from it any longer. Though his fate looks sealed, Tamino is saved by three women, who slay the creature and take him to the Queen of the Night’s castle, where they attend court.

Once there, Tamino meets the goofy Papageno, who catches birds for the Queen and, just as the two form a bond, the Queen herself appears and confides in Tamino a tragic tale. It seems her daughter, the beautiful Pamina, has been taken captive by Sarastro, her sworn enemy, and she needs a hero like Tamino to embark on a journey, with the help of Papageno and a magic flute, to save Pamina from her imprisonment. But, when Tamino and Papageno make it to Sarastro’s prison, it seems the Queen’s story was only a half-truth, for Sarastro is hardly an evil man and is, in fact, Pamina’s very own father! Now, faced with his true love, Tamino will have to conquer three trials to win the heart of Pamina, but only if the Queen of the Night doesn’t destroy their love first.

With “The Magic Flute,” Bergman is wise enough to realize that one of the main reasons the story works so well with audiences is that it makes for a great theatre experience. With that in mind, Bergman gives his audience a theatrical production of the opera shot and edited like a normal film. With this interesting mix, the camera has no trouble pulling in close to show all the anguish in a character’s face or showing the proscenium arch of the theatre and the faces of those in the opera’s audience, who “watch” the film with us.

In fact, at intermission, Bergman goes so far in being candid with the theatre experience that he allows us to go back stage and watch the actors, who are still in costume, smoke, read, and even play chess as they listen to the orchestra warm up and then, once again, play them onto the stage. With this level of theatre atmosphere on film, I’m reminded of Laurence Olivier’s “Henry V,” which, in a similar fashion, began its Shakespeare tale at the Globe theatre and had its actors backstage, preparing to play their specific parts.

Another interesting aspect of the picture, is that Bergman uses the expressions of the opera’s audience to help set the mood for the viewers of the film- having them act like an emotional guide for the story. In fact, one little girl, in particular, is the most focused on of all the theatre goers and there certainly good reasons why. For one, she is Bergman’s grand-daughter and I’m sure it was far more fun for him to film her than any other possible child, but, more importantly, the girl represents the best possible story viewer- innocent in nature and open to new things. While we as adults have been tampered by experience and cynicism, a child is free to be amazed and, by putting her at the helm of setting the audience’s mood, we can enjoy the story as she does- from a child’s untarnished perspective.

“The Magic Flute” is, of course, an opera and, though that may disway the less artistic of film goers, it is certainly a film for everyone, mixing drama, love, and comedy seamlessly together for an experience and story that makes us understand why Mozart and Schikaneder’s tale is still loved today.

To learn more about “The Magic Flute,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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