La flauta mágica

The Queen of the Night (Birgit Nordin) offers his daughter Pamina (Irma Urrila) to Tamino (Josef Köstlinger), but he has to bring her back from her father and priest Sarastro (Ulrik Cold). She gives a magic flute to Tamino and magic bells to the bird hunter Papageno (Håkan Hagegård), who follows Tamino and wants to find a wife. The duo travels in a journey of love and knowledge.

Ingmar Bergman's adaptation of the last opera of Mozart to the cinema is a homage of the master to the opera and theater. Sang in Swedish and divided in three parts, Bergman shows faces of the audience in the overture (I particularly did not like this part); the first act; the intermission, showing the backstage; and the second and last act. The cast in general is very beautiful, highlighting the singer Irma Urrila. My vote is seven.

Title (Brazil): "A Flauta Mágica" ("The Magic Flute")

Of all of Mozart's operas, I cannot decide which is my favourite out of Don Giovanni, Marriage of Figaro(Le Nozze Di Figaro) and Magic Flute(Die Zauberflote), though I have a fondness for Cosi Fan Tutte too. I love the stories and characters of these operas, and the music in all of Mozart's operas(even those with stories not as strong such Die Entfuhrung Aus Dem Serail) is magnificent.

I have seen several opera productions, and a number of opera films. My favourite opera films prior to seeing this Magic Flute were the 1976 Tosca, Losey's Don Giovanni, Zeffirelli's La Traviata, Rossi's Carmen, Ponelle's Le Nozze Di Figaro and Ponelle's Rigoletto. I saw this Magic Flute for two primary reasons, one that Magic Flute is one of my favourite operas, and the other being the great Ingmar Bergman.

The Magic Flute didn't disappoint. Bergman's direction was accomplished as always, the cinematography was gorgeous and the largely symbolic images looked amazing and enhanced the compelling story. The only ones that didn't quite work for me were the shots of the audience in the overture, which were a little distracting and unnecessary for me. The sets are suitably lavish and the costumes while different than one would expect are good.

As for the orchestral playing and conducting, they were superb, with the orchestra playing with power and clarity, and the conducting rock-solid with well-judged tempos. The acting and singing are very good generally, the best being Hakan Hagegard's hilarious Papagaeno and Birgit Nordin's imperiously chilling Queen of the Night. Josef Kostlinger is excellent as Tamino too, which is surprising in a sense since I have often come across some dashing, beautifully-sung but very bland tenors in the role.

Irma Urrila is very poignant as Pamina, and the three ladies and three boys are very well blended. Ulrik Cold's Sarastro is firm in the acting, but part of me would have liked a darker and perhaps more powerful voice, but he does do very well. Ragnar Ulfung's Monosatos is rather over-played for my liking.

As for staging, I liked it, especially the two trials and the delightful Papagaeno-Papagaena duet. The decision to especially move Papagaeno's second aria to the second trial was actually a very good one. Only the first scene with the dragon struck a false note with me, the dragon looked decent but Kothlinger's acting could've been much more panicked.

Overall, despite the few flaws I had with it, it is a great film and one of my favourites to do with opera. 9/10 Bethany Cox

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-

I first saw this movie when I was in my teens, and it was the first opera experience I truly loved. Since I now work in opera, that was ultimately a very important event in my life! Bergman manages to achieve the impossible--a perfect synthesis of drama and music, the visual and the aural. (Years ago someone told me he thought that opera--the art that combines drama with music--ended up by denigrating both forms, and I don't completely disagree with that.) But in this almost magical movie, all of the flaws inherent in the piece (and there are many--poor dramatic structure, confusing story line, nonsensical plot elements) are ironed out, or somehow don't matter. Visually, it's sumptuous, thanks to Sven Nykvist's usual gorgeous cinematography, and aurally it's quite pleasing, despite some pretty mediocre singing--but thanks to Bergman's genius, that doesn't matter, either. Because of his careful work with the singing actors, every intention and dramatic impulse is realized, all motivations are clear--something you never see on an opera stage. Of course, much of it is impossible on an opera stage.....Bergman can use close-ups where opera can't. And a little ways into the opera, one realizes that gradually, imperceptibly, the stage has "opened out", and we're on sets and in places that would never be possible in a theater. He makes it all work, seamlessly.

In a way, the beautiful 18th-century Drottningholm Court Theater is a secondary star--one can't imagine a more perfect place for this opera to be performed. But the real star (among the singer/actors, at least) is Håkan Hagegård. There is no more beautiful and charming (both physically and vocally) Papageno imaginable--he became an international opera star a few years later. He more than compensates for all the other weak vocal links in the cast.

You'll never see a better "Magic Flute" than this.

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.