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Mozart Die Zauberflöte: Soloists, The Royal Opera Chorus, The Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, conducted by Roland Böer. Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. 28.1.2008 (JPr)

This 1791 Singspiel ‘The Magic Flute’ in two acts was the culmination of Mozart’s increasing involvement by the composer with Emanuel Schikaneder's theatrical troupe that since 1789 had been the resident company at the Freihaustheater auf der Wieden in Vienna. Mozart was a close friend of one of the singer-composers in the troupe, Benedikt Schack (the first Tamino), and had contributed to the compositions of the troupe, which were often collaboratively written. A year earlier in 1790 Mozart participated in Schikaneder’s collaborative opera Der Stein der Weisen (‘The Philosopher's Stone’), including the duet (‘Nun liebes Weibchen’ K592a) and perhaps other passages. Like Zauberflöte, Der Stein der Weisen was a fairy-tale opera and a sort of precursor since it employed much the same cast in similar roles. Die Zauberflöte is noted for its prominent Masonic elements; both Schikaneder and Mozart were Masons and lodge brothers. The opera depicts the triumph of reason over despotism and is also influenced by Enlightenment philosophy, and can be regarded as an allegory propounding enlightened absolutism. The Queen of the Night is the dangerous form of obscurantism, whilst her antagonist Sarastro is the reasonable sovereign who rules with paternalistic wisdom and enlightened insight. The libretto also contains a racial stereotype in the form of Monostatos (who makes unwelcome advances to Pamina mainly because he is a Moor i.e. black) and equally dreadful misogyny (all  women are subservient to men).

My opinion has always been that these are historical pieces and are what they are. We do not alter other works of art such as paintings and some literature if they contain something that offends our sensibilities today, so why do this to opera? Why not confront these issues rather than simply expunge all references to Monostatos’s colour from the work? In David McVicar’s 2003 production (here restaged by Lee Blakeley) he is some periwigged powdered fop with similarly dressed chorus line cronies - it may be a funny characterisation but it is light-years from Mozart’s intentions.

Yet lines like ‘Without a man a woman cannot fulfil her destiny’, ‘First duty of Brotherhood is to be aware of the wiles of woman’ and ‘Our sanctuary has been profaned … send these women to hell’ pass the censor untouched. This suggests that misogyny is not as bad as racism, which is very interesting.

Although this is the third revival of this production, this  was the first time I had seen it. John Macfarlane’s atmospheric sets are monumental and seem to have been recycled from almost any Elijah Moshinsky staging of a Verdi opera. Walls scribbled over with esoteric symbols also appear to have been picked up by Keith Warner for his Covent Garden Ring. The Three Ladies and the Queen of the Night are costumed like sci-fi alien creatures which, I suppose, takes on cues from the libretto. Most of the other costumes, furniture and scientific apparatus shown would be from late-eighteenth century Vienna, the time the opera was composed. To add the fairytale elements there is a wonderfully large serpent and some splendid animal masks.

Throughout the productions though there is a deliberate lack of artifice that the Viennese with their fondness for illusion on stage would not have appreciated. The serpent is manipulated by the stage crew, as is the bird (which looks suspiciously like a road-runner) that Papageno attempts to capture on his first entry to the stage; and things like a glass of wine arise from below stage in someone’s hand. There is also a movement group used here, who  are not separately acknowledged and who, choreographed by Leah Hausman, depict both flickering flames in Act II and gently swaying water both enhanced by Paule Constable’s lighting. The Three Boys’ da Vinci inspired flying machine has some very visible ‘health and safety’ support.

The international cast is solid without being outstanding. I could be accused of xenophobia of course (to add to Mozart’s racism and misogyny) but my first Covent Garden Zauberflöte nearly thirty years ago contained a wealth of home-grown artists such as Stuart Burrows, Thomas Allen, Kiri Te Kanawa, Robert Lloyd, Donald McIntyre, Lillian Watson, Paul Crook and Robert Tear in leading roles, something that sadly it would be impossible to recreate now for various reasons not to be debated here. The best singing at the first night was divided between a British baritone, an Austrian soprano, a Danish bass, a Hungarian soprano and a Sri Lankan one.

As Tamino German tenor Christoph Strehl was making his debut with The Royal Opera. His sound was rather tightly produced and together with his rather pallid characterisation was not to my liking, though it did gain more warmth as the evening went on. The Three Ladies (Anna Leese, Liora Grodnikaite and Gaynor Keeble) though looking like they were auditioning as Valkyries were vocally rather indistinct throughout. Thomas Allen, a former Papageno, was sadly a shadow of his former self and miscast as the Speaker of the Temple. But John Graham-Hall flounced to good and seedy effect as Monostatos.

Erika Miklósa was a compelling Queen of the Night hitting her top Fs with consummate coloratura ease. As Pamina, Genia Kühmeier projected her role as well as anyone during the evening and sang a very emotionally affecting ‘Ach, ich fühl's, es ist verschwunden’. Stephen Milling used his wonderful bass to cavernous effect as a more-than-usually avuncular Sarastro,  but I thought him a bit too static and that he could have benefited from more direction. Kishani Jayasinghe, one of Covent Garden’s Jette Parker Young Artists, is making an impression with everything she currently singing – her  Giannetta was one of the best things about the recent L’elisir d’amore. Here she participates in an interesting ‘take’ on the role of Papagena, who goes from an alcohol swigging lush with headscarf and dark glasses to an Essex ladette in pink skirt, white stilettos and hooped ear rings. It was a great comedic portrayal without being a charming as Papagena perhaps should be.

Most of the vocal honours go to Simon Keenlyside’s Papageno. His interpretation is part Charlie Chaplin in baggy trousers and part Lee Evans slapstick. Cartwheels, birdsong and a leap onto a chaise longue are part of his hyperactive performance that tries, I suspect, to over-compensate for the inertia elsewhere on stage. Is he the best Papageno I have ever seen? Not quite: undoubtedly that was Hermann Prey but Keenlyside runs him close second although I would have liked slightly better use made of the German words -   a problem, it seems,  for British singers except for John Tomlinson of course. Keenlyside’s horrified looks when Papagena tottered – high on her heels -  into view and then pounced on him were wonders to behold.

The chorus made their usual incisive contribution and the German conductor, Roland Böer, conducted a very vibrant and fleet-footed performance that did not seek any new revelations and if anything played up the profundity of the work a touch too ponderously. In conclusion, despite the longueurs of the spoken German dialogue not really attacked with any great enthusiasm by the polyglot cast, except perhaps Harry Nicoll as First Priest, the performance went by quickly and enjoyably. Too few nights at the opera are like that.

Jim Pritchard

Pictures © Bill Cooper

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