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Text
by
Emanuel
Schikaneder
English
version
Jeremy Sams
Original
Director
Nicholas
Hytner
Revival
Director
Ian Rutherford
Designer
Bob Crawley
Conductor
Martin Andre
Tamino
Andrew Kennedy
Papageno
Roderick
Williams
Queen
of the Night
Heather Buck
Monostatos
Stuart Kale
Pamina
Sarah-Jane
Davies
Sarastro
Brindley
Sherratt
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London
Coliseum
English
National Opera
1
- 17 October 2007 |
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Invested
with high moral purpose and
a complex narrative structure
inspired by the Enlightenment
and Freemasonry, The Magic
Flute has - perhaps not unfairly
- a reputation for being one
of the more abstruse operas
in the canon. No less a critic
than Goethe described it as
'full of improbabilities and
jokes which not everyone is
capable of understanding and
appreciating'. Today, with
the benefit of historical
hindsight, we know that fellow
Masons, Mozart and Schikaneder,
probably intended the work
to parody the political repression
of Lodges in contemporary
Vienna. The opera's secretive
brotherhood and harrowing
initiation rites adroitly
reinforce that impression.
However, as last night's irrepressible
ENO production reminds us
with exemplary lightness of
touch, this is after all,
merely the context of events.
Thus, the twelfth and final
revival of Nicholas Hynter's
The Magic Flute is to be commended
as much for its gentle humour
as benevolent romance. Ultimately,
the quest that drives prince
and peon is passion, a metaphor
both sacred and profane.
Love at first sight inflames
the idealistic hero Tamino
when (with the aid of her
daughter's portrait) the Queen
of the Night charges him with
rescuing Pamina from her enemy
Sarastro. A friendly servant,
the bird-catcher Papageno
is to accompany him. The eponymous
magic flute will protect the
prince, while his ally (himself
in search of a wife) enjoys
the service of elemental bells.
In the spirit of a charmed
pantomime, the high-minded
Tamino and comic Papageno
survive the trials beset them
and earn their just reward
- the love of a good woman.
The tale's twist is that the
villian of the piece is not
wise Sorastro, but the Queen
who would destroy him.
The
main weapon with which the
ENO combats obfuscation is
its English translation and
indubitably, it helps demystify
the work. Whilst democratic,
the language employed can
be banal at times and the
predictable rhymes of numerous
couplets, trite. In the translation's
defence, it is perfectly suited
to Roderick Williams' buffoon
of a Papageno, who raises
good-natured laughter with
his comic accent and clumsy
delivery. His presence is
often a cue for horseplay
- memorably with the fag-ash
'tea-lady' Papagena, sung
by a frisky Susanna Andersson
with much rolling of eyes.
Later, her unexpected arrival
in a nest descending from
the eves and the pair's subsequent
ascent (seat-belts at the
ready) in their bird disguises
surrounded by a much-serenaded
brood of chicks, manages to
stay just on the right side
of hamming.
In the Bird Catcher's service
are live, surprisingly tractable
doves as well as the costumed
(albeit slap-stick) bears
enchanted by his playing -
both are well received. The
company's armoury also successfully
exploits Heather Buck's turn
as Queen of the Night: despite
a tendency to shriek, she
brings a dark glamour to the
stage outlandishly coiffeured
a la Bride of Frankenstein.
Adorable children and in particular,
the three boy-guides are similarly
entertaining. Sadly, endearing
faces and quaint costumes
could not quite make up for
the latter's off-key chorus.
Accessability aside, we were
treated to some fine, classical
singing in this Hytner-revival
Magic Flute. Special mention
then to Brindley Sherratt's
gorgeous bass rendition of
Sarastro, his third successive
interpretation for ENO. Sarah-Jane
Davies' Pamina is similarly
assured; her tumbling blonde
locks and Wagnerian presence
an obvious assett. A back-drop
of flood-lit hieroglyphics,
dynastic icons and a necropolis
of skeletal mummies adds to
the atmosphere of mystery
and awe; and the stark, architectural
setting rich with Egyptian
imagery, is still as fascinating
as it must have been at the
1988 debut. Much as beast
and human are spell-bound
by magical instruments on
stage, the production's diverse
and richly textured rendering
of voice and score has the
power to captivate a modern
audience.
Caroline Kellett Fraysse |
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