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The global art-house frenzy was in full swing when Elvira Madigan first made audiences swoon back in 1967. Set in an idyllic Danish forest in 1859 and loosely based on an actual double-suicide, this lushly photographed, quietly seductive film presents a richly romantic tragedy while suggesting that the most intense form of love resembles a kind of blissful insanity. The inseparable lovers in this case are a married Swedish army lieutenant named Sixten (Thommy Berggren) who's gone absent without leave, and the radiantly beautiful Elvira Madigan (Pia Degermark), a Danish tightrope walker who's abandoned her popular position in a traveling circus. Together they have no use for the distractions of the real world; they live only for each other, sharing simple pleasures, spontaneous intimacy, and a seemingly unlimited supply of wild berries, wine, and leisure time. As Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21 dominates the soundtrack, Sixten and Elvira chase butterflies (and each other) through a peaceful meadow, at which point the movie practically oozes with romantic perfection. (When most people think of "art-house" movies of the 1960s, they're most likely thinking of movies such as this--although the lovemaking here is nothing if not tamely discreet.) Swedish director Bo Widerberg wrote, directed, and edited this film and makes full use of Jorgen Persson's soft, sensual cinematography. Though its plot is almost nonexistent, the film is arrestingly beautiful and the almost-too-attractive actors bring naturalness and depth to their performances, elevating this tale of doomed love above the level of gushy sentiment. For all of its surface appeal, Elvira Madigan is an intelligent film, and Widerberg builds toward genuine tragedy without compromising the dream-like idealism of Sixten and Elvira's unconditional love. Widerberg also inserts a few hints of casual irony, as when Elvira sells a portrait of herself that was drawn by a "cripple" at a cafe in Paris; neither she nor the pawnshop owner recognizes the artist's signature as that of Toulouse-Lautrec! These little grace notes enhance this otherwise lightweight film, and while the tragedy never achieves Shakespearean proportions, this is nevertheless an alluring, introspective portrait of romance at its most sublimely emotional extreme. --Jeff Shannon
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