The English Touring Opera are currently touring with a revival of Liam Steel’s 2009 production of Mozart’s The Magic Flute, and their opening night at the Hackney Empire was attended by one of the most diverse audiences I have encountered at an opera. Both the choice of location and the diversity of the audience seem particularly appropriate for this opera: The Magic Flute was written specifically for librettist Emanuel Schikaneder’s suburban Theater auf der Wieden, Vienna’s most ‘accessible’ opera house. Premiered on 30th September 1791, the opera was attended by a much wider range of society than was seen at the court operas, and it is encouraging to see that Mozart and Schikaneder’s ‘enlightened’ values (now aided by Jeremy Sams’s much loved translation), the opera’s novel special effects, and its magic events, are still as popular with audiences today.
First, a mention must go to this season’s orchestra at ETO. They were undoubtedly one of the highlights of the production; both the playing and the ensemble were truly outstanding. Conducted by the highly talented James Southall, who is making his debut with ETO this season, they set the pace with a particularly vibrant overture and then sparkled throughout the opera, always remaining attuned to the action on stage. Deserving of special praise, of course, are flautist Luke Strevens and keyboardist Harry Ogg for performing Tamino’s magic flute and Papageno’s magic bells flawlessly.
The only thing that was repeatedly irksome about this production was some clumsy staging, often detrimental to the enjoyment of the excellent orchestral playing and singing. For example, in the second half of the overture what seemed to be the whole chorus appeared on stage and began to move swiftly but irregularly around the stage, pausing for clichéd ‘freeze frames’. The number of people made the set look chaotic, and the clomping of their shoes around the stage made it hard to concentrate on the music. Admittedly, their transformation into a human snake for Tamino’s ‘Have mercy, have mercy’ opening was effective, but this recovery did not make up for the initial distraction. Such overcrowding and clumsiness was problematic at several points during the opera.
These problems aside, there were many positive aspects to the staging. Chloe Lamford’s minimalist set design provided an effective blank canvas for the drama and also for the special effects needed for the trials of fire and water. Some of the set’s more complex features, though, such as the numerous little trap doors, provided difficulties for their operators. Novel in conception, human hands would appear through the trapdoors to pass props onto the stage. However, more than once a hand was left groping around the floor, trying to pull closed a door from the wrong side. Nevertheless, they were often used to good effect, such as in the ‘Pa Pa Pa’ duet at the end of the opera, where suddenly the stage was filled with a menagerie of hand puppet Papagenos and Papagenas popping through the trapdoors and dancing along to the music. This moment was especially well received by the audience. The emphasis the discreet set gave to the special effects is perhaps reminiscent of the original Schikaneder production: among the novel effects for which the Theater auf der Wieden was known were trapdoors, lighting, and visual effects.
The ETO cast were mainly excellent and Anna Patalong made a wonderful Pamina, providing some of the highest-quality singing of the evening. The sadness and despair she conveyed through her second-act aria, ‘Now I know that love can vanish’, was divine. It was performed with such intimacy that the audience were utterly transfixed throughout. Ashley Catling’s Tamino, Andrew Slater’s resonant Sarastro, and Wyn Pencarreg’s Welsh Papageno were also excellent. Slater’s rich bass effectively transmitted Sarastro’s important moral messages, and he brought a stately presence to the role. The opera’s serious pronouncements were important to Mozart. At an early performance of The Magic Flute, he wrote despairingly of an acquaintance:
Unfortunately I was there just when the second act began, that is, at the solemn scene. He [the unnamed acquaintance] laughed at everything. At first, I was patient enough to draw his attention to a few passages. But he laughed at everything. Well, I could stand it no longer. I called him a Papageno and cleared out. But I don’t think the idiot understood my remark.
(Letter from Mozart to his wife Constanze, 8-9 October 1791).
Samantha Hay gave a mixed performance as the Queen of the Night. Her fiendishly technical first act aria felt like something of a struggle and was slightly stinted both in terms of tempo and expression. Hay was also the centre of another odd staging device here. Her cape expanded to fill the whole of the stage, which was effective in imposing her presence, although why the cape then needed to undulate with varying intensity to match the music (achieved by people moving around underneath it) is a mystery. Nevertheless, Hay made a comeback in her second aria, ‘The wrath of hell is burning in my bosom’, which was very good both technically and musically, receiving rapturous applause from the audience. She gave a fittingly cold, steely aura to the character, although a lack of both power and drama meant that she never aroused fear.
There was much high-quality ensemble singing throughout the performance, in particular from the three ladies (Camilla Roberts, Amy J. Payne and Helen Johnson) and the three boys (Abigail Kelly, Emily-Jane Thomas and Laura Kelly). The intonation and feeling of unity between each trio was impressive, enabling crisp, clear performances. The three boys, who in Schikaneder’s production appeared in a hot-air-balloon flying machine, were here all wearing lampshades, which was appropriate in their capacity as guides through the darkness.
Liam Steel’s adventurous reinterpretation of one of the classics of opera repertoire was not matched by the programme notes. Alongside Nicholas Till’s informative essay “The Magic Flute: Freemasonry and the Enlightenment”, it was disappointing to see the other essay, “The Magic Flute. Mozart: An Aside” by John Haywood, tapping into many of the conventional narratives of Mozart biography: the effect of his childhood travels on his later life, apparent constant financial problems resulting in the ‘cheapest possible funeral’ to name a few. Such narratives condition the way audiences understand the opera, as a sublime achievement in spite of his ‘tragic’ circumstances. Although Mozart’s income was unstable at times, resulting in cash-flow problems, he was never forced to go without luxuries such as a servant, and was able to send his wife to the spa for cures on several occasions. His financial situation had already improved greatly by 1789 so that by his death in 1791 he was excelling not just in Vienna, but also across Europe. Furthermore, his burial in an unmarked, communal grave was in accordance with contemporary Viennese custom, and many other citizens of equal and greater social rank were buried in a similar fashion. Now that Mozart scholarship has advanced so considerably, it is ever more important to dispel these myths from circulation, and instead to invite audiences to view The Magic Flute as evidence of Mozart’s flourishing status and success.
The Magic Flute is on tour at venues across the UK until May 31st, 2014.