Michael Powell remains one of the most widely acclaimed and fondly remembered British film directors, whose works were among the 20th century’s most famous. Titles like The Thief of Baghdad (1940), The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), A Matter of Life and Death (1946), Black Narcissus (1947), and The Red Shoes (1948) – most co-directed with creative partner Emeric Pressburger – are among the most acclaimed in film history. His controversial 1960 thriller Peeping Tom is widely regarded as the key progenitor of the slasher film.

In 1963 Powell was hired by West German broadcaster Süddeutscher Rundfunk to direct one of his most intriguing and – thanks to years of legal issues – obscure directorial works. Herzog Blaubarts Burg, usually referred to in English as Bluebeard’s Castle, is a one-hour made-for-television adaptation of Béla Bartók and Béla Balázs’ opera.

It is a proverbial ‘odd fish’. The opera has rarely been staged live, since it only runs for 60 minutes and features a cast of two. It depicts the villainous Bluebeard (played here by Norman Foster) bringing home his new wife Judit (Ana Raquel Satre). He escorts her through the various rooms of his castle, ultimately revealing his past six wives – all trapped and still alive – and consigning Judit to the same fate.

As a West German production, the film is performed in German rather than the original Hungarian. It is also performed without subtitles: a deliberate choice on Powell’s part. Thankfully it tells a simple story, so it is easy to simply watch, follow along, and admire the sets and costumes.

The design is the main asset here, and comes courtesy of Hein Heckroth – the Oscar-winning designer who worked with Powell and Pressburger on The Red Shoes. It is an aggressively colourful film, decorated in lurid hues and with an abstract and impressionistic aesthetic. Realism takes a definite backseat to dreamlike imagery. In many ways it feels years ahead of its time: a music video two decades too soon for MTV.

Foster and Satre both deliver strong performances. It is a musically engaging piece, and well captured by Powell and his cinematographer Hannes Staudinger.

While enjoyable, Bluebeard’s Castle sits more as a footnote to Powell’s career than a critical part of it. He only directed one more film afterwards – 1969’s Age of Consent – and likely only made it as a favour to Heckroth, who originated the project. Unavailable for many years, Bluebeard’s Castle was restored and released to blu-ray by the BFI. It is a valuable opportunity for Powell’s fans to see the director at his most abstract.