In this golden age of home viewing, the Criterion Collection still provides some of the best editions of the best movies ever released, usually with a rich selection of extras and often including audio commentaries (a feature they pioneered, and perhaps the greatest gift ever to film students and cinephiles alike). This column features one Criterion release per week, based entirely on where my interests lead me.
The Archers, composed of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, made 24 films over 33 years, and there’s a great variety among them. Some were hits, some were flops. Some were realistic, some were fantastical. Some celebrated British qualities, some satirized them. The Tales of Hoffman belongs to the fantastical categories and while not their last, could be considered a summation of a particular type of Archers film, one that employs traditional arts (here ballet and operetta) in the service of creating a cinematic experience of sensory overload different from, but equally valuable, to that of attending a performance in person. Among their films, it’s closest in spirit to The Red Shoes (1948) and uses some of the same personnel, but differs in being a pretty faithful adaptation of an existing opera rather than a new story about a group of characters involved in the arts.
The opera in question is Jacques Offenbach’s 1881 The Tales of Hoffmann, which is based on three stories by the German fantasy and horror writer E.T.A. Hoffman (who also wrote the novella on which Tchaikovsky’s ballet The Nutcracker is based). It’s made up of a prologue, three self-contained stories, and an epilogue, each centered around the character of Hoffman (Robert Rounseville, one of the few cast members to do his own singing rather than being dubbed) and his misadventures with the fair sex.
In the prologue, Hoffman is entranced by the ballerina Stella (Moira Shearer), who tries to send him a note to meet her after the show (she will turn up again in the epilogue). Councillor Lindorf (Robert Helpmann) intercepts the note and Hoffmann is left to the company of his male companions, whom he regales with the story of three of his past loves. In the first, he falls for Olympia (Shearer), who turns out to be an automaton created by the inventor Spalanzani (Leonid Massine), the illusion aided by magic spectacles created by the craftsman Coppelius (Helpmann).
In the second story, Hoffmann falls for the courtesan Giiuletta (Ludmilla Tchérina), but he’s in way over his head again. After fighting a duel to win the key to her room, but things don’t go as expected. This story is set in Venice, as the gondolas make obvious, and features the famous barcarolle. In the third story, Hoffman is a famous poet who falls for the operatic soprano Antonia (Ann Ayars, who does her own singing), who has been forbidden to sing due to illness. Enter the evil Dr. Miracle (Helpmann) to stir the pot.
There’s nothing naturalistic about The Tales of Hoffmann—instead, everything is as theatrical and fantastic as it can be, and each section is introduced by turning the pages of a program naming the setting, characters and cast (particularly useful in this opera, when many performers play multiple roles). The use of stage conventions like painted backdrops are highlighted, while cinematic staging and camera techniques provide a view of the action that could never be experienced by sitting in the audience for a live performance. Everything is sung in English, which might come as a surprise to opera regulars but serves to make the performances more accessible to people new to the art.
Even if you aren’t a fan of operatic singing or balletic dancing, the sets and costumes are amazing and the stories are just weird enough to appeal to fans of fantastic fiction. Notably, this film was a big hit with two American film directors not particularly noted for the high tone of their films: Martin Scorsese and George Romero, both of whom first saw it as children. I personally prefer my opera in the language in which it was written (French in this case), but if I were new to the art form I’d probably welcome not having to read subtitles, and the visual splendor alone is more than enough to make this film a worthwhile viewing experience.
The technical elements in The Tales of Hoffmann are superb, as they would have to be for the film to work. Cinematographer Christopher Chalis maximizes the capability of Technicolor to capture the vibrant hues of the sets and costumes, and Sir Thomas Beecham conducts the orchestra. Most important of all, production designer Hein Heckroth has created a series of fantastic visions that will capture the imagination of anyone willing to enter into this world. | Sarah Boslaugh
Spine #: 317
Technical details: 133 min; color; screen ratio 1.37:1; English.
Edition reviewed: DVD
Extras: audio commentary by Martin Scorsese and film critic Bruce Eder; video interview with George Romero; 1956 short “The Sorceror’s Apprentice” directed by Michael Powell with production design by Hein Heckroth; gallery of design sketches and paintings by Hein Heckroth; gallery of production and publicity photographs; trailer; booklet with an essay by film historian Ian Christie.
Fun Fact: The Tales of Hoffman includes the breeches role of Niklaus, a young friend of Hoffmann’s traditionally performed by a female singer. Powell and Pressburger elected to cast Pamela Brown in this role, presumably to keep the breeches tradition alive, although because singer Monica Sinclair dubs the role they could also have chosen to cast a male in the role.
Parting Thought: The contraptions of Spalanzani only appear to be alive when viewed through magic spectacles. Is this where L. Frank Baum got the idea for the magic spectacles that make Emerald City appear green?
