Elvira Madigan

(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon.)

This really is a beautiful movie, exquisite in detail, gorgeously filmed, directed with great subtlety and intensely focused. Nothing wasted or thrown away here. Everything counts. We feel the forebodings of tragedy first in the straight razor in Sixten's hand as he caresses the back of Elvira's head, and then again there is the knife on their picnics, stark, solid, sharp steel in the paradise of their love. Note too the shots on her belly. The child touches her stomach. She vomits from eating flowers...

To really appreciate this movie it should be understood that it was filmed in the sixties and it represented to that audience something precious and true. Note the anti-war sentiment seemingly tangential to the story of the film, but nonetheless running as a deep current underneath. He was an army deserter, like those in the sixties who fled to Canada to avoid the draft and the body bags in Vietnam. Note his confrontation with his friend from the regiment, a scene that many in the sixties lived themselves. He gave up everything for love, but it really is her story, her choice. She chose a man with a wife and two children, a soldier. She had many other choices, as the friend reminded her, but for her he was the "last one." What they did was wrong, but it was indeed a summer of love, the cold northern winter in the distance, ripe red raspberries and mushrooms to eat and greenery everywhere and the sun brilliant and warm; and then in the next to the last scene with the children when she faints as the child pulls off the blindfold of the game and is surprised to face Elvira's belly, there is just a little snow on the ground, perhaps it is from the last winter, not completely melted.

If you can watch this without a tear in your eye and a melancholy feeling about the nature of human love, you have grown too old. Theirs was a forbidden love, like that of Romeo and Juliet, a tragic love, doomed from the start, which is why the ending of the movie is revealed in the opening credits. Those who think a story is spoiled by knowing the ending, know not the subtle ways of story, of great tales that are told again and again. Knowing the ending only sharpens the senses and heightens the appreciation.

Pia Degermark who plays Elvira, who is a tightrope walker, a girl of gypsies, has beautiful calves (which is all we see of her body), a graceful style and gorgeous eyes, made up in the unmistakable style of the sixties, very dark with long heavily mascara'ed eyelashes. And she is a flower child, a fairy child of the forest, drawn to things earthy and mysterious, to a strong young man and a fortune teller who finds for her only small black spades in her future. In life we chase after butterflies. Sometimes we catch one.

I had the pleasure, and good fortune to see this film on the big screen. It exemplifies classic beauty, one is reminded of Renoir paintings. The film uses landscape to reveal inner emotions, a rarity these days. The structure reveals the final outcome in the beginning, leaving us with is an examination of a process so lovingly portrayed by Widerberg, a process so perfectly focused -- a delicate, lyrical love story -- quite an achievement.

As did a previous reviewer, I too saw this movie in 1967 in an "art house" theater in Boston, and have been affected and haunted by it ever since. The beauty of a film with spare dialogue, fabulous and touching cinematography, and an indelibly imprinted sound track, entered my young adult brain and took up residence. Who knew that many years later, I would spend time in both Denmark and Sweden, visiting the places where the couple spent time on Tåsinge and in Svendborg, as well as the places where it was filmed in Nordjylland, and feeling as if I had been there before, even down to the sounds of the buzzing insects in the meadows and beach grass. Such films should touch more people. I am glad it is out on DVD, although I have only seen it on VHS. Suspend your computer and 3D expectations, and revel in the feelings.

One of the simple pleasures of life is to sit in a darkened theater and have a film capture your soul, not as a single person, but as the whole sigh of the room. I saw this in 1967 in Boston, in a makeshift theater. This was at the height of the flower revolution, when Boston was the intellect of the emerging 'counter' culture.

This film found a hungry audience -- we and it fed each other. At the same time down the road were Hollywood projects on (what we though was) the same notion: passion before everything, and the purer the passion the clearer the beauty. Life matters less than living. 'Bonnie and Clyde,' and 'The Graduate' seemed slick and pale in comparison then and more so now.

For decades, I recalled many of the images:

-- the raspberries and cream (which she bought by selling her image)

-- her luminescence, her dainty vomit, the fish in her skirt, the attentive query about eggs

-- the fainting when she is discovered by innocence (which we ourselves did at the very beginning through the same child's eyes)

-- 'There are times when you don't question the cost'

and of course:

-- the release of the butterfly, and the reluctance of the filmmaker to let us release the image.

This film succeeds because it is so simple, but its simplicity is not accidental. The notion of equating Elvira with the music by bringing the musicians into the story shows extraordinary skill. I can think of no other case where a classic piece of music is renamed because of a film.

At the time, I recall great discussion of the book Sixten carried around. Like Hamlet's book, it 'mattered,' but I have forgotten its importance. I remember much in the underground press about the self-referential nature: the passion and beauty of the characters and so with the film: the simple commitment to no plan of both: and the accepting of the consequences by both for meditative obsession.

But another of the simple pleasures of life is to live long enough to see two of ourselves: the recalled initial engagement with the film and the current one. I wish this pleasure on all of you. Oh how we have all changed. (I strongly suspect that no person who was not there will find any traction with this film, but perhaps others like it.)

And watching this now, I discover I'm more of an 'In the Mood for Love' kind of guy. Same ethic. Same commitment to enter the unknown. But the passion if stronger is more diffuse and less selfish. I recommend seeing both films. Let me know.

Breathtakingly beautiful photography & music help to make this movie the finest love story I've seen. It's based on a true story that took place in 1859, although the movie is set at a somewhat later date. It's hard to imagine that these two young people, so full of life & love for each other, would choose the option they did to resolve their problems, but part of what this movie shows us is the inability of these two "upper class" individuals (Lt. Sparre is a Count, an aristocrat, & Elvira is a world famous circus performer who is mentioned in newspaper articles & a book) to cope with life once it has beeen altered beyond what they have been accustomed to deal with. If you choose not to read the subtitles, you'll still enjoy the movie for its visual beauty & the terrific music by Mozart & Vivaldi. Ironically, the drawing Elvira pawns for pennies is by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec!!