It is very hard to adapt classical music to moving pictures. Therefore, even films that describe lives of classic composer need some “help from the outside” – a composer who adapts the classical music to the film screen.



Classical music has always attracted film authors. Stanley Kubrick, F. F. Coppola, Ingmar Bergman, Milos Forman... the list would go on for quite some time if we tried to remember all of the films inspired by classical music. Some of these directors did not waste time worrying about the fine connotations that music sends through classical literature. Others, however, felt both its essence and the artistic wisdom it has accumulated throughout the centuries, how it expands itself by tying into the spirit of the time of its creation. On film, classical music reverberates differently. Some classical works are a constant source of new inspiration. One of these is Carmen. This story about an untamed beauty inspired many directors, such as Peter Brooke, Francesco Rosi, and Carlos Saura, as well as Charlie Chaplin, (it is interesting that Chaplin’s Burlesque on Carmen is full of classical music, but he does not use music from Georges Bizet’s opera). Some directors, such as Rosi, transferred opera onto the film screen utilizing help from great singers, such as Placido Domingo. However, Carlos Saura even went a step further. In the milieu of contemporary flamenco dancers, Carmen – both Prosper Mérimée’s novel and Bizet’s opera – entwines with the reality. It is therefore sometimes hard to understand in this film what the story told on the stage is and what is taking place behind it. Nevertheless, the theme of Saura’s Carmen became that of guitar and dance virtuosos, the topic of the film itself perfectly interwoven with the original music by Paco de Lucie.


The existence of a “second” composer along with the classical one (like Paco de Lucie next to Bizet) is a common occurrence in film. The reason for this is that it is very difficult to adapt classical music to moving pictures without very careful planning. Therefore, even films that describe lives of classic composer, such as Chaikovsky by Igor Talankin and Lisinski by Oktavijan Miletić, need some “help from the outside” – a composer who adapts the music to the screen and who, if necessary, composes additional music. In Talankin’s films, this was Dmitri Tiomkin, a former pupil of Aleksandr Glazunov and Aleksandr Skrjabin, famous as a composer of music for American westerns. From a quasi-nationalistic American idiom, Tiomkin “switched over” to Russian without any difficulty, adapting Tchaikovsky’s music for his film biography. Nevertheless, he respected the original with complete admiration.


Boris Papandopulo did the same thing when he was invited to work on the biographical film Lisinski. However, Lisinski earned respect in another way; in 1944, the first Croatian sound feature film bore his name. The musical references were from two operas; the first two Croatian operas, Ljubav i zloba and Porin (along with a few other popular musical pieces by Lisinski) were not simply the main musical motives, but were also the motivating forces of the film’s action.


As we are aware, love stories provide a typical motivating force for a film’s action. That is precisely why biographies of composers make good material for films. However, the transparent relationship between Lisinski and Hedviga, as well as the “mail” relationship between Tchaikovsky and Natalia von Meck, could not resonate as much as the passionate love between Robert Schumann and Clara Wieck. The old Wieck, Schumann’s professor, heavily opposed this relationship and Robert and Clara’s marriage was possible only after a lawsuit. This story was a true treat for the director Peter Schamoni in his film Spring Symphony, which was made in the same year as Saura’s Carmen (1983.).
However, Dora Pejačević was a tougher nut to crack when it comes to the love story. This charismatic aristocratic woman was in love only with her music, Nietzsche, Wagner and her violin. A Croatian director with a fine sense for musical poetics felt her charisma. Long ago, Zvonimir Berković made his film Rondo, transferring the omnipresent Mozart’s Rondo in A-minor onto the screen. The idea for Countess Dora had to come from the same internal creative source. The words from the film Spring Symphony, spoken by Herbert Grönemeyer in the role of Robert Schumann, correspond well with the almost forgotten composer from Našice, whose creative talent was interrupted by marriage: "Bach has gravity, Mozart lightness, Beethoven warmth, and Schubert darkness. And what do I have? Worthlessness. I have the eternal worthlessness which is bigger than all of the rest together." (Irena Paulus)