This film was made 
                for German television in 1968, at a time when film was just beginning 
                to expand the way in which music is experienced. This was filmed 
                like a movie is filmed, because that gave the best, most dramatic 
                results given the constraints of the time. As film, it has all 
                the virtues of a well made movie. It’s vivid, direct, every angle 
                and frame created to enhance the opera. The way the cameras are 
                used was state of the art, for they veer in and out for close-ups 
                and move across the set, giving an almost tangible sense of depth. 
                This is no point-and-shoot, flat-stage filming, and all the better 
                for being presented in art movie form. Technology makes possible 
                things that would have been beyond the wildest dreams of theatre 
                directors in Weber’s time. Euryanthe, for example, wasn’t performed 
                because its demands were just too great.
                Exaggerated 
                  acting was once the norm when audiences were sitting in unamplified 
                  theatres, often too far from the stage to see clearly. Photographs 
                  of early performers show how stylised they could be before close-ups 
                  taught people to expect more naturalistic performance. There 
                  are a few small vestiges of this tradition in this film – Agathe’s 
                  theatrical makeup being a case in point. But this is very much 
                  a “new” kind of production because it focuses on the opera as 
                  drama, and allows much more subtle nuance to come across. For 
                  example, the camera dwells on Max’s face as he silently agonises 
                  over his predicament. It highlights details like the entry of 
                  Samiel, resplendent in red velvet, his face lit with a sinister 
                  glow. Here is a wonderful, multi-dimensional realization of 
                  the Wolf’s Glen, whose portrayal is crucial to the whole plot. 
                The 
                  opera begins with that famous long overture. Instead of shooting 
                  the film against an unmoving curtain, the producers of this 
                  film seized on the idea of showing a 19th century 
                  toy theatre backdrop. It’s a great idea because it reminds us 
                  that this opera is very much of its time and place. The hokey 
                  plot was never meant to be realistic or logical. Audiences in 
                  Weber’s time were quite prepared to suspend logical judgement, 
                  and get into the “spirit” of theatre. Nowadays, because we’re 
                  used to vérité in film, we’ve lost that magic in many ways.
                Indeed, 
                  it is the filming that makes this production worth watching. 
                  Performances are good, with Edith Mathis totally stealing the 
                  show. She’s an incredibly vivacious and lively Ännchen. Her 
                  voice is so pure and fresh, yet she manages nuances that indicate 
                  more depth of character – she is after all the “sensible” one 
                  in contrast to the rather patchily constructed Agathe. Mathis 
                  is superlatively photogenic and animated – the camera “makes 
                  love to her” as fashion photographers say. She totally obliterates 
                  Arlene Saunders who comes over, alas as more pinched and stale 
                  than she would have in traditional stagecraft And that singing! 
                  It is no surprise that she was to become an astoundingly good 
                  Agathe in her own time. 
                
              Also 
                excellent is Gottlob Frick as Kaspar. 
                His voice is so expressive that he can 
                characterize the part neurotic tension. 
                It is after all, more than a comic part 
                because he’s cursed and under demonic 
                pressure. This is important, because 
                in this opera, and in the Romantic mindset, 
                dark forces were dangerous. Like the 
                deep forests in Grimm, the Wolf’s Glen 
                is a symbol of the subconscious and 
                of the irrational. It’s an idea central 
                to the Romantic psyche. At any moment, 
                dark forces can reach out and destroy, 
                as Agathe finds out all too clearly. 
                Frick’s Kaspar is so well defined that 
                he’s engaging and sympathetic, which 
                adds to the impact of the plot. Less 
                so is the ostensible hero, Max. Ernst 
                Kozub doesn’t have the intensity of, 
                say, Peter Schreier. Luckily for him, 
                the camera compensates by focusing on 
                his facial expressions and body language, 
                so even if he’s not singing, he’s communicating. 
                More interesting is Franz Grundheber 
                as Kilian still quite young and showing 
                promise. 
                Perhaps 
                  the weakest part of this production is the orchestra, conducted 
                  by Leopold Ludwig. It’s certainly not actually bad but lacks 
                  the clean lyricism that’s in the music, and in particular the 
                  glorious overture. The choruses are extremely well paced – the 
                  high male voices being specially well-balanced and clear. 
                All 
                  in all, this isn’t a first choice Freischütz. However, 
                  if you’re interested in opera production, it gives valuable 
                  insight into how opera can be enhanced as art movie. And, Edith 
                  Mathis! Her singing alone should justify the price of this DVD.
                Anne Ozorio