Maybe they are, maybe not; the same
has been said before. It is, at any rate, difficult to think that they should
not be. Quite why such reverence should be accorded what at best one might call
a ‘straightforward’ production is beyond me. Some will doubtless applaud
the lack of anything so strenuous as an idea or two, anti-intellectualism being
so ingrained in certain quarters of this country’s commentariat. (Remember
the outrage at the Royal
Opera’s splendid Rusalka?) Some, ignorant of or simply
uninterested in, the Rosicrucian mysteries of the work, will doubtless have
been happy with a naÔvetÈ that sits at best awkwardly with our age,
irreversibly ‘sentimental’ in Schiller’s sense. But surely even they
would have found this revival tired, listless. Apparently some of them did not,
however, given the raucous laughter issuing from around the theatre: any time a
rhyming couplet appeared on the surtitles, some found it almost unbearably
hilarious. Moreover, audience participation went beyond even the usual
coughing, chattering, and opening of sweets. (A woman behind me must have made
her way through a good quarter of the city’s stocks of Wine Gums). Someone
even saw fit to disrupt the performance by shouting out a proposal of marriage
to Papageno just at that saddest, pathos-ridden of moments when the music turns
and he resolves to take his life. No matter though: it elicited a great deal of
hilarity. And that of course is all that matters. Those who laughed at the
priests’ dialogue may or may not have been aware how offended Mozart was at
someone who did the same in the composer’s presence. Presumably the same
people thought it ‘amusing’ to boo Adrian Thompson’s rather good
Monostatos too. They seemed, however, a little hard of hearing, for their
applause generally began long before the orchestra had concluded.
Elena Xanthoudakis as Pamina and Kathryn Lewek as The Queen of the Night
Jeremy Sams’s ‘English version’ doubtless egged them on in all their
boorishness. I have asked before what is held to be wrong with Schikaneder. One
can point to shortcomings, no doubt, though one should always bear in mind
Goethe’s admiration. But the only good thing one can really say about this
hodgepodge is that it is not nearly so bad as what Sams has inflicted upon
The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni. It remains intensely
pleased with itself, drawing attention to itself rather than shedding light
upon the drama, and remains distant enough that ‘version’ is wisely
substituted for ‘translation’. Yet, given the difficulties so many of the
cast had with delivering the dialogue, it really might as well all have been in
German. That would also have relieved us of that terrible clash between the
text we know in our heads – especially for the text set to music – and that
we hear on stage and/or see in the titles (the latter two not always being the
same). Different accents are ‘amusingly’ employed; one might have thought
it offensive to find a Welsh accent (Papagena) intrinsically funny, but
apparently not.
Nicholas Collon’s conducting was disappointing. One often hears far worse
in Mozart nowadays; yet, as so often, it was difficult not to long for great
performances of the past (Furtw‰ngler, Bˆhm, Klemperer, et al.), or indeed of
the present (Sir Colin Davis). ‘Lightness’ was for the most part all, a
peculiar mannerism being the falling off into nothingness at the end of many
numbers. Quite why one would wish to make this score, often but a stone’s
throw, if that, from Beethoven, sound so inconsequential, is beyond me; at
least it was not brutalised, as ‘period’ fanatics would wish. That said,
the brass sounded as if they were natural; they may or may not have been, since
modern instrumentalists are sometimes instructed perversely to ape the rasping
manner of their forebears, and I could not see into the pit. At any rate, the
result was unpleasant. A few numbers were taken far too quickly, but for the
most part it was the lack of harmonic grounding that troubled rather than
speeds as such; we were spared the ludicrous Mackerras triple-speed approach to
‘Ach, ich fuhl’s,’ one of the worst atrocities I have ever had the
misfortune to hear inflicted upon Mozart. But as for the lily-gliding of
introducing a glockenspiel part into the final chorus… Mozart is not
Monteverdi; he does not need to be ‘realised’, and certainly not like that.
A good number of appoggiaturas and other instances of ornamentation were
introduced to the vocal lines, not least to those of the Three Ladies at the
beginning. The fashionable practice does no especial harm, I suppose, but nor
does it really accomplish anything beyond drawing mild attention to itself.
Duncan Rock as Papageno, Elizabeth Llewellyn as First Lady, Catherine Young as Second Lady, Pamela Helen Stephens as Third Lady and Shawn Mathey as Tamino
Vocally there was more to enjoy, though the record was mixed. Elena
Xanthoudakis made for an unusually rich-toned Pamina. Best of all was Duncan
Rock’s Papageno, for the most part quite beautifully sung, though his
dialogue veered confusingly between outright Australian and something less
distinct. Kathryn Lewek had some difficulties with her intonation as the Queen
of the Night, but then most singers do; more troubling was her tendency to slow
down to cope with the coloratura. Shawn Mathey resorted to crooning more than
once during his Portrait Aria and was throughout a somewhat underwhelming
Tamino. Robert Lloyd’s voice is, sadly, not what it was; Sarastro’s first
aria sounded very thin, though matters improved thereafter. There was luxury
casting, however, when it came to the Three Ladies; Elizabeth Llewellyn is
already a noted Countess, and it showed. The Three Boys were excellent too:
three cheers to Edward Birchinall, Alex Karlsson, and Thomas Fetherstonhaugh.
Choral singing was a bit workmanlike but that may have been as much a matter of
the conducting as anything else. One certainly had little sense of the kinship
with Mozart’s other Masonic music.
The website and programme have the Two Armoured Men as the ‘Two Armed
Men’, a strangely common yet baffling error: the German is perfectly clear.
At least the production had it right, the men donning breastplates at the
opening of that great chorale prelude. The Queen of the Night remains, for some
reason, the ‘Queen of Night’.
Mark Berry
Cast:
Tamino: Shawn Mathey; Papageno: Duncan Rock; Queen of the Night: Kathryn
Lewek; Monostatos: Adrian Thompson; Pamina: Elena Xanthoudakis; Speaker: Roland
Wood; Sarastro: Robert Lloyd; Papagena: Rhian Lois; Two Priests, Two Armoured
Men: Nathan Vale, Barnaby Rea; Three Ladies: Elizabeth Llewellyn, Catherine
Young, Pamela Helen Stephen; Three Boys: Edward Birchinall, Alex Karlsson,
Thomas Fetherstonhaugh; Director: Nicholas Hytner; Revival Directors: Ian
Rutherford and James Bonas; Designs: Bob Crowley; Lighting: Nick Chelton, Ric
Mountjoy. Chorus of the English National Opera (chorus master: Martin
Fitzpatrick); Orchestra of the English National Opera/Nicholas Collon
(conductor). The Coliseum, London, Thursday 13 September 2013
image=http://www.operatoday.com/The-Magic-Flute-Elena-Xanth.gif
image_description=Elena Xanthoudakis as Pamina and Shawn Mathey as Tamino [Photo by Alastair Muir courtesy of English National Opera]
product=yes
product_title=Die Zauberflˆte, ENO
product_by=A review by Mark Berry
product_id=Above: Elena Xanthoudakis as Pamina and Shawn Mathey as Tamino
Photos by Alastair Muir courtesy of English National Opera