The Magic Flute at ENO (new McBurney production)

09/11/13

When I saw Hytner's "classic" production of The Magic Flute last season, I was mystified as to its popularity - a straighter, less probing staging it would be hard to imagine, and the set literally creaked and groaned. This new McBurney production is a real step up in terms of theatricality, interpretation, and crucially for this opera, sense of fun. The music of The Magic Flute is of course glorious, but the story has rarely made as much sense as here - this is a major addition to the ENO's roster of productions, and I look forward to seeing it again in coming seasons.

Die Zauberflöte is a far more problematic piece than its popularity suggests. The main issues lie in the libretto. Tamino, the "hero" of the piece, has essentially no autonomy and so in most productions doesn't have an engaging dramatic arc. He faithfully carries out every order he gets from the authority figures in the piece - first from the Queen of the Night, then from the Speaker, then from Sarastro. Every problem in the opera is solved by Deus ex Machina devices (the magic flute and the magic bells) rather than by the characters' ingenuity, moral fortitude or bravery - the fact that each object is used so often means that the moral message of the piece is progressively weakened and undermined. Pamina does slightly more in the way of decision making and action, but her choices are also very prescribed. Even Papageno, the linchpin (and real protagonist) of the opera, doesn't get many choices, but he at least goes on a clear moral and spiritual journey. I like the moral flip that we are supposed to make midway - we make an assumption about the forces of good and bad during the first few scenes which is subsequently subverted and then inverted as the opera progresses. But I've never really bought the idea of Die Zauberflöte as being a monument to glorify Freemasonry. The plot is so abstruse in the second act and Sarastro's shadowy cadre so morally ambiguous, that it's hard to imagine that Mozart seriously intended this opera as an affirmation of the Enlightenment values which the Freemasons claim to embody. Sarastro's music may be noble and clearheaded, but I wonder how many people really feel that the ending is a moral victory, or that it's obvious that Tamino has achieved something worthwhile.

In Simon McBurney's production, the overture starts before the lights have dimmed. The pit is partially raised so that we see all the orchestral musicians - it feels ramshackle and intimate and signals a sincere interest to marry not just stage and pit, but musicians and audience also. At the side of a stage is a puppet theatre with a film camera that projects the live puppetry onto the stage, expanded to fantastic size. A gaggle of performers sit at the side of the pit and it's not initially clear what they're for. At the appearance of Papageno, they transform into a flock of birds in the most simple and therefore wondrous manner possible. Every time Papageno plays his pipes there's a lovely cascade of tweets and cuckoos, nature exploding into song at the enchanting sound of this instrument. Sound effects abound throughout the spoken dialogue which, with the moody, stark lighting, engender a much darker atmosphere than is usually imagined in this opera. There's almost too much to mention on the design side, and it's wonderful to see direction, set designs (Michael Levine), lighting designs (Jean Kalman) and video designs (Finn Ross) all working so closely together - the whole conception has a satisfying unity. The production doesn't quite sustain the sheer density of beautiful ideas that are packed into the first 20 minutes, and not everything works perfectly - often the delay on the camera relay was too great for instance and the sequences that were timed to the music just didn't come off. But remarkably, this very strong visual aesthetic never once overpowers the story telling and drama, and in fact helps make it one of the clearest production of The Magic Flute I've ever seen. Part of this is also in the English translation - there are a lot of very helpful additions that flesh out the story, update the comedy, and try to make more sense of the undertones in the opera. It's a risk, but it pays off.

The Queen of The Night is depicted as an old lady, rapidly decaying with age throughout her three scenes - first brandishing a walking stick during her opening aria, then pushed in on a wheelchair for "Der Hölle Rache", and finally she appears as a dessicated, decrepit shadow, just as she is vanquished. Pamina is not the meek vision of innocent youth and radiant femininity that we often see her portrayed as - she has more temperament here and there are moments when she is almost as commanding as her mother. Tamino is his usual bland self unfortunately, and a weak point is his first vision of Pamina from the Three Ladies (a tricky point in the drama to be sure) - he barely looks at the portrait and his rapturous overtures seem jarringly sudden. The actual staging of this part is exceptionally beautiful however - Pamina's subtly moving (video) portrait is projected onto a gently waving sheet held out by one of the Ladies - another really magical moment. The Three Boys here already look ancient, their wisdom eerily advanced for beings who are meant to be children. Sarastro's organisation is appealingly sinister but never cartoonish or sober to the point of dullness. Roland Wood's Papageno is the clear emotional and comedic centre of the show, holding the story together and providing some much needed earthiness to the exalted machinations of the rest of the plot. I loved that his hair was matted with flecks of bird shit - little details like this make a production live. The final trials for Tamino and Pamina, traditionally another place where the drama of this opera falters, actually seem like trials here - huge projections with thunderous sound are used to create the perils that the power of the magic flute then overcomes - this simple delay in when the music starts makes this piece of the narrative so much clearer and more effective.

The cast are all decent, and there are a couple of exceptional performances. Roland Wood has already been mentioned as Papageno - his grimly comic attitude, and excellent singing make him a pleasure to watch. James Creswell is in luxuriantly rounded voice as Sarastro, the timbre even right to the bottom of the range. The night I went, as the Queen of the Night Cornelia Götz sang the most accurately tuned staccati in alt I've ever heard, but the middle voice where the role mainly sits is extremely underpowered by comparison. She has the smallest voice of all the cast members which never quite seems right in this fire spitting role. Devon Guthrie's Pamina has endearing moments and is basically good, but some smudgey legato lines fail to make her character's crystalline music reverberate with the poignance that it can. Ben Johnson's Tamino is musically also fine, but physically and dramatically clumsy. The Three Ladies of Eleanor Dennis, Clare Presland and Rosie Aldridge make a beautifully coordinated team. Conductor Gergely Madaras is this production's weakest link - nothing he does is bad exactly, but this is a bland, undifferentiated view of this most colourful of scores. One laments again the recent passing of Mackerras and Davis who still had so much to say in this music, always with such singular character.

All in all this is a most recommendable production of this opera - traditionalists and progressives will both find much to enjoy here.

Die Zauberflöte at the ROH

16/04/13

Mozart fanatic though I am, I do find Die Zauberflöte to be quite dramatically flawed, or at least, I have never seen a production that can make the libretto seem like anything less than a silly story with a sententious yet obscure moral with beautiful music added. Compared to the musico-dramatic wonder of the Da Ponte operas, it is unconvincing and uncompelling as drama - the three principal protagonists have barely any agency (they're told to do something, someone else immediately tells them that they can't, they wait while other stuff gets done to them, then they're mysteriously allowed to do the original action when the gods decide they can), the denouement of the story, the two trials, is totally anticlimactic and essentially meaningless, and the plot is so episodic that the pacing can seem curiously clumsy compared to the perfection of Mozart's previous three efforts. The masonic symbolism never seems interesting enough to warrant it being the full focus of a production, and the "philosophical/masonic/temple" music is so alien to Mozart's particular artistic genius - it's the duets of friendship and love, the arias of fear, loss and rage, that is, the points of genuine human emotion rather than the idealised, abstracted moralising, that truly fire his imagination to produce music that is justly loved and held up alongside his very greatest achievements. At least the constant misogyny of the Masons is thwarted by Mozart in making Pamina play the essential role in Tamino's triumph over adversity, thereby rescuing the otherwise jejune message of "brotherhood" by including the other half of the human race as well.

Like all of Mozart's late operas the music occupies a world of its own that is totally distinct from the other operas. Figaro is all subtlety, delicate brilliance and bristling energy, Don Giovanni searing intensity and opulent lushness, Cosi fan Tutte clarity, Mediterranean warmth and symmetry. A Singspiel on acid, Die Zauberflöte is wildly eclectic, providing the widest and least muddied colour palette, painted in primary colours with firm outlines. There's a transparency and calm that surpasses even Cosi - a simplicity of effect and a paring down to essentials, with emotions exquisitely delineated in the music, and usually wholly lacking the ultra complex equivocalness of the other three operas mentioned. Characters say what they mean! The eclecticism is by no means random and is strongly reflective of the very different personalities that are being portrayed: Mozart's unerring talent for aural characterisation taken to the nth degree, and indeed each major role is so precisely and individually drawn that they almost don't inhabit the same landscape as each other. Part of what is touching about the piece is seeing these very different people interacting and overcoming their differences of temperament and outlook.

David McVicar's production makes return and though I still like it, it's starting to look a bit old - the sets are a little crumpled and tatty, and everything creaks, hums and cracks when it moves, to a distracting degree. Still, it's a good traditional production which contains striking images, can be very funny, and is reverent and respectful of the piece. And I still love the ridiculously cute children amongst Monostatos' minions and then at the end in the Papageno/Papagena scene which also serve to show the similarities in these two character's music. For some reason, writing about this production seems superfluous at this stage as it's so famous and has been on DVD/youtube for so long.

Charles Castronovo took a little while to warm up as Tamino, but soon revealed an excellent lyric tenor with good legato and an extremely dark colouring (we're talking Kaufmann-esque), very unusual in a voice of this fach, and quite changed from what I remembered of his Ferrando. For me, this heroic manful timbre doesn't feel right for Tamino, the gentlest and most youthful of all Mozart's tenor roles, but this was nonetheless excellent singing. Unfortunately his German is only OK and acting a little bit generalised. These shortcomings were made especially obvious by Christopher Maltman's beautifully sung and acted Papageno, with his flawless German, expressive vocal shading in both the sung and spoken parts, and total identification with the role. (Though it must be admitted that Tamino is a much less rounded and more idealised character).

Ekaterina Siurina is also glorious as Pamina, with a radiantly beautiful top and floated pianissimos that make an audience melt. Vocally then a marvel, though I wonder if she has a little too much temperament for Pamina - she would be a completely luxury Susanna or a magical Rosenkavalier Sophie, but most casting directors would probably think the voice is too "full" for these parts, despite the fact that the colour and timbre is absolutely ideal (in the Popp mould). Wonderful to hear though.

The Queen of the Night is surely the most popular role in all of opera and though it is by no means the hardest coloratura role in the repertoire, the pressure to perform is immense. Albina Shagimuratova I first saw doing Donna Anna at Glyndebourne and she was magnificent there. The voice is extremely fine - gleaming in the top but with a lyric warmth and excellent agility for a voice this large, but on this first night she was not quite in her stride - her Act I aria "O zittre nicht, mein lieber Sohn" was a bit reticent and the coloratura slightly sluggish, and "Der Hölle Rache" featured dicey intonation in the passages that everyone is waiting for and high notes that were extremely covered. Still, the rest of her singing was very, very good indeed and it's clear that she is in theory perfect for this role and I can well imagine that this was merely first night nerves. Acting wise she is good and makes a decent stab at being scary.

Brindley Sherratt is a very fine Sarastro, not quite the basso profundo required for the role, but extremely cultivated and beautifully sung and his German is very good. The rest of the cast is very serviceable with Sebastian Holocek a commendable Speaker, and the two armoured men of David Butt Philip and Jihoon Kim excellent too. Julia Jones was OK in the pit, though the ROH brass were always too loud, and it wasn't until the final half hour that the orchestra were producing really beautiful things.

So all in all a well sung production, even if there's a slight lack of sparkle from pit or revival direction.

The Magic Flute at the ENO

11/10/2012

Swayed by the murmurs about its "classic" status, I went to ENO's Magic Flute, worried that I might miss its final outing. Obviously nostalgia has tinted the spectacles of the chorus of sighing admirers, as Hytner's production is about as literal and vanilla (read: plain) as you can get. Maybe all those aeons ago when Noah was loading the Papagenos onto the arc, this may have been original and illuminating as a take on Mozart's most elusive opera, but it never once seeks to interpret what the piece might mean beyond the most general and literal "light and dark" metaphors. True to its roots in Singspiel, Die Zauberflote is an evening of pure entertainment dressed up in dubious philosophical garb: whatever the higher intention of the work's creators, the plot and Schikaneder's libretto are very, very silly, and that Mozart responds to it with music of such noble warmth, charm and beauty is a difficult thing to reconcile artistically. But there has to be an attempt!

In this production (perhaps only this revival?) there is clumsiness everywhere: the single set creaks and squeals as it shifts; characters say farewell and then exit via the same door; they gain, lose, and regain items of costume without reasonable explanation; sound effects regularly interfere with the music and sound shoddy and unconvincing. The acting would seem crass and hammy if witnessed in a Christmas panto, with the most exaggerated and laboured use of silly voices and accents, ridiculously clichéd delivery of serious lines and ceaselessly bad comedic timing such that real sentiment and believable characterisation are studiously (and successfully) avoided.

Vocally at least, things were much better. Most treasurable is Elena Xanthoudakis whose ultra shiny and youthfully pure soprano is absolutely ideal for Pamina. She sounded best when she let herself go a bit volume wise, easily filling the Coliseum's dry acoustics with silvery ribbons of legato. Duncan Rock was an impressive Papageno, with his beefy, rich baritone ringing out clearly if not always subtly, though he was guilty of the biggest excesses acting wise. I often found myself cringing at his delivery of the spoken dialogue. Robert Lloyd's voice is still impressively massive and rich and deep (I can't quite believe that he's sounding this good at 72!) but it has crept almost entirely into his nose. (My companion quipped: Is there actually any sound coming out of his mouth?). Kathryn Lewek as The Queen of the Night sounded very beautiful in her Act I aria, though the voice is very much on the small side for this role. Unfortunately she was slightly out of tune in the iconic high flying passages of Der Holle Rache, with unsupported, thin high notes. Roland Wood revealed a wonderful bass-baritone in the small role of the Speaker - let's get him back soon please! Shawn Mathey's Tamino was the cast's weakest link, sounding a little hoarse and with appallingly wooden acting.

In the opening minutes of the overture I thought we were in for a very special night from the pit as conductor Nicholas Collon seemed to be getting a very lovely and clean, though warm HIP sound out of the ENO orchestra. Unfortunately it remained merely pleasant, lacking sufficient contrast in dynamics or colour, and not enough body in the sound to really support the singers. The biggest casualty was Pamina's Ach, ich fuhl's which was played secco and as a result completely failed to move. A more fundamental problem was the very frequent coordination issues between the pit and stage with singers regularly getting ahead of the orchestra. A little disappointing and I'm mystified by the misty-eyed reverence that this production inspires!

The Magic Flute at the Royal Academy of Music (Die Zauberflote)

12/03/2012
Royal Academy of Music

What an enjoyable evening. I love hearing young singers, especially when you get to spot some real talent.

I reviewed it for Bachtrack. Read it here.

Here's a taster:

Stephen Barlow chooses to update the staging to the 1980s, with Sarastro as the charismatic head of a cultish organisation which is a mixture of Mormonism, Scientology and at the end a mass wedding of Moonies. He plays the piece for laughs which mostly works very well: it is genuinely very funny and makes light of the more ludicrous plot elements. The Queen of the Night becomes a power suited night club owner* hysterical with rage about her daughter's kidnap. Her three ladies are a kick-ass Charlie's Angels, and the three children attired like mini bouncers. Papageno sports a mullet, "catches birds" by photographing them coming out of clubs, and plays a Moog synthesizer; Tamino the prince is from Princeton university. It's a joyous evening, delineates the plot very effectively, doesn't detract from the music and it makes dramatic sense, though the spiritual message of the end is somewhat diminished by the fact that all have been inducted into a brainwashing cult.

*(I just remembered she's actually a magazine editor/owner)

It's unfair to be too harsh on young singers as they are all manifestly works in progress, so I decided to focus on the overwhelming positives.

I recently also heard Aoife Miskelly (here singing Pamina) in a Schubertiade evening at the Academy and was nowhere near as impressed - in the small room she sounded tweety and tense. But in the context of the theater she sounded just gorgeous, really special. Another reason why traditional auditions are a terrible way to judge singers.

(Queen of the night Ruth Jenkins with Aoife Miskelly as Pamini. Photographer: Hana Zushi, Royal Academy of Music)

Ruth Jenkins is clearly already a star and I'm sure she'll be hired professionally as Donna Anna, Fiordiligi and even Konstanze very soon. There's a slightly worrying wobble in some of her high notes (not the very highest), but hopefully someone can help her with this. Such a joy to hear coloratura sung with such clarity and proper support!

(The three women. Photographer: Hana Zushi, Royal Academy of Music)

It's sold out, but if you possibly can try and get returns.

Two days, two opera houses, two operas

Last Friday I saw the final dress of Lucrezia Borgia at the ENO - an interesting production, but one that ultimately I think doesn't work particularly well. The idea to bring in a director from the film industry to sex things up is a standard opera gimmick nowadays, and it seems that Mike Figgis was brought in for just such a purpose. He incorporated four short film sequences into the opera which try to provide the opera with a darker and more disturbing feel than is perhaps inherent in the libretto and score - we are presented with the depraved background of the Borgias (Lucrezia's rumoured incestual relationships with her father and brother), there are murders, sex scenes, writhing animalistic girls, and lots and lots of breasts. While these were mostly quite well done (with one exception - see below), there was too much of a disjunct between the naturalistic, action filled films and the opera itself; in fact Figgis hardly seemed to know what to do with the actual opera which lead to a very static Prologue and very little interaction between the characters throughout. For example, characters that hate each other and are telling each other so just sit down next to each other rather placidly before the end of the scene. Almost all of the arias are just delivered still - in short just very old fashioned and it made for a poor realisation of the drama. Claire Rutter's Lucrezia, in stark contrast with the Lucrezia in the films, is never sexy, which is perhaps the most critical discontinuity between the opera and the films and makes the films seem like an obvious ploy to sex the evening up, rather than putting a darkly sexual undertone to the whole production which was surely the intention. The confrontation scene was at least visually rather striking, and there was a nice touch later where two famous paintings were unwittingly recreated by characters (the feasting plotters arranged as Da Vinci's Last Supper was particularly effective). Not a complete failure then, and frustratingly so because one senses that it could have been very good.

Also for no good reason, in one of the films which fills in the background, her illegitimate child Gennaro is a terrible plastic model, replete with visible moulding lines and periodic mechanical spasms. Ridiculous.

Though acting was subtle to non existant, the singing was really excellent throughout, especially from the rising star tenor Michael Fabiano as Gennaro, just 26, who apart from a few slightly strained notes in the top showed off a fantastically developed voice, genuinely beautiful and of quite some power. But for me the absolute star was the mezzo-soprano Elizabeth DeShong as Orsini - a truly gorgeous voice, beautifully even across the range, with the bottom so richly coloured and full that she sounded like a true contralto in parts. Apparently she sings the composer of Strauss' Ariadne too which is at the other end of the mezzo range. I just can't wait to hear more from her.



The Royal Opera House's beautiful production of Die Zauberflote made a return with a great cast, and was generally a success. This production really is a visual delight with costumes, props and sets all just about perfect - I'm sure most people have seen pictures of it already so there's not much need to comment. Jessica Pratt spuffed some notes in "Der Holle Rache", but a soprano friend reminded me that this was a morning dress rehearsal and I should give her a break. Actually it was about 1pm by the time she must have sung the notes, but we'll give her the benefit of the doubt, shall we. Kate Royal made a beautiful (vocally and physically) if slightly weakly characterised Pamina, and Joseph Kaiser as Tamino was vocally disappointing, but luckily Christopher Maltman's Papageno amply served as the linchpin of the production - very well sung indeed, well acted and genuinely funny. Diction from all was generally very good and most people were easy enough to understand, pronunciation ranging from good to excellent.

Another thing which has to be noted is the children in this production - all are unbelievably cute and add a real joyousness to so many scenes. Monostatos' cronies include a couple of bewigged kids which bestow an impish devilishness on his troupe. The little girl dancing around with the wild animals, and then the kids all jumping on the bed after the Pa...pa...pa... duet - all delightful touches and makes explicit the implicit celebration of human love and life that this opera offers.