BY BEN NIELSEN
Opera Australia
The Magic Flute by Mozart
Sydney Opera House, 2 January 2015
It couldn’t be further from the African savannah, and yet Julie Taymor’s adaptation of The Magic Flute is uncannily similar to her long-running Broadway musical, The Lion King. The two productions were conceived a decade apart, but have been cut from the same cloth. The similarities aren’t confined to visual aesthetic (set, costumes, puppets and props); they also invade Taymor’s interpretation of the text and each performance.
The Magic Flute is even marketed on the back of The Lion King’s success, despite having had years to cement itself. It was originally mounted by The Metropolitan Opera in 2004 and then reproduced by Opera Australia last January, before reappearing at the Joan Sutherland Theatre as part of the current summer season. The production’s shameless regurgitation and lack of individuality is a bit of a dupe, but then, its artistic ingenuity and popularity withstands.
For newcomers, Mozart’s final operatic offering can seem long and convoluted. The narrative is twisted, the list of characters seems infinite, the foundations of good and evil are ambiguous, and the romantic plotlines are multilayered and confusing. A traditional staging can be truly exhausting. Mercifully, this incarnation has been tailored to fit a contemporary audience, and is wholly engaging. The English translation is mainly to thank for this – it is quick, humorous and current.
Symbolism abounds, in what is essentially a love letter from Mozart to the Masonic brotherhood. To this inherent imagery, Taymor has plastered additional motifs of Judaist and Buddhist origin as well as stylistic elements from the world stage (most noticeably Japanese Noh). The result is a flamboyant and arresting fairytale in Taymor’s characteristic style (the program draws comparisons between this production and a Star Wars film, but a Disney fable would probably be a better likeness). As JD McClatchy writes, ‘this is exactly what Mozart and Schikaneder would have wanted’.
John Longmuir and Samuel Dundas are both swashbuckling in their roles as Tamino and Papageno. While Longmuir’s character is more prominent in the story, it is Dundas who charms the audience as the sensitive and wistful jester. He retains this endearing quality even during bows. Taryn Fiebig is also wonderful as Pamina. She breaks hearts with her Act II aria, during which she contemplates suicide after mistaking Tamino’s silence as rejection.
With her geometric wings and sinister makeup, Emma Matthews is a physically imposing Queen of the Night. However, Matthews’ upper register seems stretched during the Queen’s well-known second aria Der Hölle Rache. Her voice becomes thin and fragile rather than the piercing, foreboding quality required of the situation. Matthews’ unity with the orchestra is also hindered by her anticipation of the beat.
The Magic Flute is, of course, a comedy and a melodrama, but some passages seem overacted and clunky. This is partly the curse of a singspiel, which places undue attention on the singers’ generally rusty acting chops. The saving grace is that the action is extended from the stage to the audience’s lap. The passerelle is not the sole instigator – actors occasionally exit through the auditorium doors, the ceiling is frequently occupied by a menagerie of multicolored birds, and the fourth wall is briefly broken in Act II.
Instead of travelling to a mythical place between the sun and the moon, The Magic Flute provides a nostalgic return to Pride Rock. Should audiences feel cheated? Of course not – it is a glorious and enchanting journey. If more local opera received the Taymor touch, it would surely garner higher patronage. But, audiences should definitely feel cheated that this production was ten years old before it reached Australia.
Image supplied. Credit: Branco Gaica.
