The Magician opens with a series of scenes that will seem oddly familiar to anyone who has seen Ingmar Bergman’s seminal work, The Seventh Seal (1957).
The opening shot is a silhouette of a horse and wagon, accompanied by stick-like marionette figures moving deliberately about the frame, soon punctuated by the ominous appearance of a raven.
Once inside the wagon, the former faceless marionettes become a lively band of vagabond artists and performers, one of which is played by the amazingly expressive Max Von Sydow, the tortured star of The Seventh Seal; only this time, as the magician, Mr. Sydow’s brilliant face is disguised by a fake beard, eyeliner, and jet-black hair; instantly conjuring a sense of mystery, as well as a lighter air of farce.
Bergman intends to parody his reputed obsession with death
An early indication that Bergman intends to parody his reputed obsession with death, comes when one of the magician’s traveling companions, the troupe’s acting seer, an elderly lady with a penchant for histrionics, regales the carriage with tales of horror; as they enter a dark forest, the old lady speaks of ghosts and ghouls and spirits that howled so loudly in this forest, no one dare enter after sundown.
Sure enough, once in the forest, like Mr. Sydow’s encounter with death personified in The Seventh Seal, the magician is soon communicating with a deathly character, a dying actor, piquing the audience’s attention with some very intriguing and creepily moving death-talk. But, again, as if to prick his infamous death rep, Bergman elevates the audience’s anticipation level to its highest point just as the dying actor appears to utter his last words, death is...
The magician must prove his supernatural powers
Once the magician and his four traveling companions (the aforementioned soothsayer, a wily middle-aged huckster, the carriage driver, and the magician's rather lovely androgynous assistant) exit the dark forest, they arrive in a small hamlet, only to be arrested by the local powers that be.
In a slightly contrived bit of malice, a cruel wager is placed between the town’s constable and his awfully condescending doctor friend: the magician must prove his supernatural powers with a performance so convincing as to sway the doctor, a hardened, cynical man of science, that there are magical realms beyond human understanding.
Forced to stay in the same house as the cop and the doctor and their respective mates, the troupe is relegated to the servant’s quarters for the night.
A dark and stormy night
Of course it’s a dark and stormy night, full of shadow play, miscommunication, sexual interludes, and some serious soul searching, as the once simplistic characters become true flesh and blood human beings spooked by all manner of murder and mayhem.
The morning after, the cop and the doctor go to great lengths to humiliate and embarrass the magician, literally pulling back the curtain to reveal magic to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors.
But, in a brilliant display of cinematic acumen, Bergman teases his audience with his own slight of hand, by concluding his film with a masterful series of shocks and scares, not unlike his legendary dream sequence in Wild Strawberries (which incidentally inspired a nightmare in William Freidkin’s The Exorcist).
Set alone, the rapid-fire series of events wherein the non-believing doctor is trapped in an attic with re-animated body parts and the walking dead would make for a great horror film short, comparable to John Carpenter (Halloween) or even William Castle (House on Haunted Hill).
Ingmar Bergman’s response to critics and audiences
Bergman scholar Peter Cowie states in the visual essay included on the Criterion Blu-Ray, that he believes The Magician to be Ingmar Bergman’s response to critics and audiences who didn’t understand or appreciate his theatrical productions (thus drawing his main characters in The Magician as stage performers).
Cowie points out that not all the criticism Ingmar Bergman received pertained exclusively to his theatrical work; many Swedish film enthusiasts had grown weary of Bergman’s perceived cynicism regarding the existence of God, and his obsession with death.
Which is why, for all the venom and bile Bergman expresses through his alter-ego, the magician, toward the ignorant and cruel members of his audience, the film maker acknowledges a connection between himself and his religious patrons; stirring great sympathy for an artist who relies on mystery and magic to bewitch an audience; expecting a certain faith, a suspension of disbelief.
The Magician on Criterion Blu-Ray
Disc information:
- Restored high-definition digital transfer
- Visual essay by Bergman scholar Peter Cowie
- Brief 1967 video interview with director Ingmar Bergman about the film
- Audio interview with Bergman
- Booklet featuring an essay by critic Geoff Andrew
- DVD Release Date: October 12, 2010
- Run Time: 101 minutes
- ASIN: B003WKL6Y4
Martin G. Wood - M.G. Wood is a writer of screenplays, film and literary reviews, and poetry. M.G. Wood can often be found ...
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