Poor Hoffmann. He is a poet who is famously unlucky in love. As a young student in Paris, he first fell in love with Olympia (Moira Shearer). She was a gorgeous creature with pale, silken skin, luminous eyes and red hair. Unfortunately, she was an automaton. Then, as a man of the world in Venice, he fell in love with Giulietta (Ludmilla Tcherina). She was seductive, with black eyes that held promises and with long, raven hair. Unfortunately, she stole men's reflections and then their souls. Next, as a famous poet visiting a beautiful isle, he fell in love with Antonia (Ann Ayers), a young, passionate opera singer. Unfortunately, she suffered from consumption. Throughout it all, he is accompanied by a young and skeptical friend, Nicklaus (Pamela Brown), and followed by the sinister Lindorf (Robert Helpmann), who seems determined to thwart Hoffmann. Now, he waits in a tavern for his new love, the ballet dancer Stella (Moira Shearer). And while he waits and drinks, everyone urges Hoffmann to tell them the tales of his loves. And in this opera by Jacques Offenbach, and in this marvelous movie by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, he does.
The Tales of Hoffmann is a linear descendant of Powell's and Pressburger's The Red Shoes. The same themes of art, love, life and choices are explored. Even some of the same artists are present: Moira Shearer, Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine and Ludmilla Tcherina. The Tales of Hoffmann, however, stakes out new ground. Powell and Pressburger have taken an opera and turned it into a fantasy of cinema unlike any opera ever staged, or any film ever made. It moves from light, amusing and eccentric to dark and sinister. An undercurrent of romanticism is present, but we end up with romantic pessimism. Hoffmann's three poetic loves all are unattainable, and the prime cause always are figures who resemble Lindorf. He fares no better with Stella.
The film may be an opera, but it seamlessly interweaves ballet and the camera itself. Things blend, disappear, shift and change, and all within one of the greatest production designs I've ever seen. Hein Heckwroth, who worked with Powell and Pressburger on some of their greatest films, such as Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes and A Matter of Life and Death, created a visual world for the film which calls on expressionism, romanticism and surrealism, all in such a lush style as to be startling and hypnotizingly satisfying. The story of Olympia is accented with bright yellow; the story of Giulietta is a sensual red; the story of Antonia is a tragic blue. Powell works within all this with flourishes and images that are gripping: Puppets, gorgeous and grotesque, that come to life; Olympia flashing about en pointe, only pausing to be wound up again; Giulietta, in jeweled black tights with a green scarf around her head flowing back in the breeze, standing motionless in a gondola as it slowly moves across a lagoon; candle wax that turns to jewels and then turns again to wax; a carpet that becomes a flight of stairs that remains a carpet; dancing grotesques that step from beer mugs. We watch all this played out in color so intense and rich it's mesmerizing. In America, Vincent Minnelli has often been called one of the great production stylists in movies. In my view, his work on such films as Ziegfeld Follies, The Pirate or Yolanda and the Thief, with their billows of purple smoke and endless lengths of pastel gauze, can't hold a candle to Powell. Both can be lush, but while Powell comes up with intense images for inventive storytelling, Minnelli often seems just overwrought. The Tales of Hoffmann really is a masterpiece that combines art of many disciplines, including production design, into one extraordinary film about art.
And yet...the movie in my opinion is an acquired taste. While many people may like the idea of lavish Technicolor images, fewer will go for ballet, and even fewer for opera. The tension between art and love may be too ephemeral for many to pay attention to. And as amusing as many of Powell's flourishes are, you have to be alert to appreciate most of them. I'd urge you, if you liked The Red Shoes, to take a chance. Watch The Red Shoes again. Then read the program notes by Ian Christie before you put on The Tales of Hoffmann. Watch it when you have plenty of time. Don't feel you have to watch it without taking a break (a good time for one is between the stories of Olympia and Giulietta). If you're absolutely sure you don't like it, well, wait a few weeks and just watch again the tale of Olympia. You might surprise yourself. And for those who already like The Tales of Hoffmann, or may like it, welcome to the Powell and Pressburger fan club.
The Tales of Hoffmann is a linear descendant of Powell's and Pressburger's The Red Shoes. The same themes of art, love, life and choices are explored. Even some of the same artists are present: Moira Shearer, Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine and Ludmilla Tcherina. The Tales of Hoffmann, however, stakes out new ground. Powell and Pressburger have taken an opera and turned it into a fantasy of cinema unlike any opera ever staged, or any film ever made. It moves from light, amusing and eccentric to dark and sinister. An undercurrent of romanticism is present, but we end up with romantic pessimism. Hoffmann's three poetic loves all are unattainable, and the prime cause always are figures who resemble Lindorf. He fares no better with Stella.
The film may be an opera, but it seamlessly interweaves ballet and the camera itself. Things blend, disappear, shift and change, and all within one of the greatest production designs I've ever seen. Hein Heckwroth, who worked with Powell and Pressburger on some of their greatest films, such as Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes and A Matter of Life and Death, created a visual world for the film which calls on expressionism, romanticism and surrealism, all in such a lush style as to be startling and hypnotizingly satisfying. The story of Olympia is accented with bright yellow; the story of Giulietta is a sensual red; the story of Antonia is a tragic blue. Powell works within all this with flourishes and images that are gripping: Puppets, gorgeous and grotesque, that come to life; Olympia flashing about en pointe, only pausing to be wound up again; Giulietta, in jeweled black tights with a green scarf around her head flowing back in the breeze, standing motionless in a gondola as it slowly moves across a lagoon; candle wax that turns to jewels and then turns again to wax; a carpet that becomes a flight of stairs that remains a carpet; dancing grotesques that step from beer mugs. We watch all this played out in color so intense and rich it's mesmerizing. In America, Vincent Minnelli has often been called one of the great production stylists in movies. In my view, his work on such films as Ziegfeld Follies, The Pirate or Yolanda and the Thief, with their billows of purple smoke and endless lengths of pastel gauze, can't hold a candle to Powell. Both can be lush, but while Powell comes up with intense images for inventive storytelling, Minnelli often seems just overwrought. The Tales of Hoffmann really is a masterpiece that combines art of many disciplines, including production design, into one extraordinary film about art.
And yet...the movie in my opinion is an acquired taste. While many people may like the idea of lavish Technicolor images, fewer will go for ballet, and even fewer for opera. The tension between art and love may be too ephemeral for many to pay attention to. And as amusing as many of Powell's flourishes are, you have to be alert to appreciate most of them. I'd urge you, if you liked The Red Shoes, to take a chance. Watch The Red Shoes again. Then read the program notes by Ian Christie before you put on The Tales of Hoffmann. Watch it when you have plenty of time. Don't feel you have to watch it without taking a break (a good time for one is between the stories of Olympia and Giulietta). If you're absolutely sure you don't like it, well, wait a few weeks and just watch again the tale of Olympia. You might surprise yourself. And for those who already like The Tales of Hoffmann, or may like it, welcome to the Powell and Pressburger fan club.