The Magic Flute
Jan. 25th, 2009 07:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
khiemtranWe were lucky enough to have a long-planned babysitter day, yesterday, so we went in to the Opera House to see Opera Australia's production of the Magic Flute.
As it happened, it was extremely hot yesterday, reaching 42C in parts of Sydney and 40C in the CBD. The Opera House forecourt was not a pleasant place to be, so our plan to eat our sandwiches overlooking the water and walk around Circular Quay got a bit curtailed. We clung to the shade as much as possible and ended up at the coffee bar outside Bistro Mozart within the Opera House itself (note for future reference - good Vittoria coffee and free self service chilled water, a lifesaver on a day like that).
We had seats V33 and V34, near the back of the stalls. These were surprisingly good. Row V was the last row where we would have been able to see the surtitles before they would have been blocked by the dress circle above (someone taller than me would have had to bend over to see them). It was also nice to be seated directly above the stage for a change. The theatre was mostly full, but, from our position, we could see some of the higher boxes were empty. Some of these may have been restricted viewing according to the seating plan, but they didn't look too bad from where I was.
Now to the opera. This was actually a co-production between Opera Australia and the Legs On The Wall "physical theatre" company. This meant lots of acrobats, firedancers and puppets, including a particularly impressive dragon. The production featured Australianized dialogue (including an Ocker Papageno), but was sung in German, and stayed close to the spirit (and illogicality) of the original plot.
The Magic Flute is basically the Neon Genesis Evangelion of Mozart operas. If you look at it at the most basic level, it doesn't make sense. At all. This presents at least two different possibilities for consideration. Either there's a deeper meaning somewhere below it, where the characters are all representatives and metaphors, or ... it just doesn't make sense. At all.
Actually, the programme notes (which I didn't read until afterwards) really did give a new insight into some of the mysteries and illogicalities that appear and had they might have been understood by someone in the Austro-Hungarian empire in the late 18th century with a knowledge of the political struggles within Freemasonry at that time. It suggests, for example, that Monostatos may have been modelled on a former black African slave who was an important figure in Vienna freemasonry and defected to a rival faction.
Other parts of the opera also suddenly become a lot clearer as you learn more of the context. It's hard to see these days who shocking it must have been to hear the story of how the absolute ruler, the Sun King, wills his insignia not to his Queen, but to the high priest of his cult (effectively, his prime minister). Or how both the Prince Tamino and the bumpkin Papageno are treated exactly equally and given the same opportunities by the Order (or for that matter, how Pamina too is given a chance for enlightenment). Or how the Act One duet on love is given to Pamina and Papageno, and not the Prince. With this in mind, and especially in view of the Enlightenment struggles between absolute rule and democracy, the Order comes across a little less like a looney, brain-washing bride-kidnapping cult. Only a little, of course.
The cast were all good in the roles. Emma Pearson, as the Queen of the Night, did well in the two famous arias, but I thought it was Emma Matthews as Pamina who made the most of her role. She looked a little old for the part at first, but her singing was heartfelt and breathtaking. Warwick Fyfe was a crowd favourite as Papageno and Tamino was a pleasing Tamino. In typical Mozart fashion, every time the story started seeming too silly or the characters too trite, something transcendent would happen. A perfect stillness in the middle of an aria, an unexpected mood or revelation, or a sudden heartfelt communion.
All up, an excellent day's entertainment.
As it happened, it was extremely hot yesterday, reaching 42C in parts of Sydney and 40C in the CBD. The Opera House forecourt was not a pleasant place to be, so our plan to eat our sandwiches overlooking the water and walk around Circular Quay got a bit curtailed. We clung to the shade as much as possible and ended up at the coffee bar outside Bistro Mozart within the Opera House itself (note for future reference - good Vittoria coffee and free self service chilled water, a lifesaver on a day like that).
We had seats V33 and V34, near the back of the stalls. These were surprisingly good. Row V was the last row where we would have been able to see the surtitles before they would have been blocked by the dress circle above (someone taller than me would have had to bend over to see them). It was also nice to be seated directly above the stage for a change. The theatre was mostly full, but, from our position, we could see some of the higher boxes were empty. Some of these may have been restricted viewing according to the seating plan, but they didn't look too bad from where I was.
Now to the opera. This was actually a co-production between Opera Australia and the Legs On The Wall "physical theatre" company. This meant lots of acrobats, firedancers and puppets, including a particularly impressive dragon. The production featured Australianized dialogue (including an Ocker Papageno), but was sung in German, and stayed close to the spirit (and illogicality) of the original plot.
The Magic Flute is basically the Neon Genesis Evangelion of Mozart operas. If you look at it at the most basic level, it doesn't make sense. At all. This presents at least two different possibilities for consideration. Either there's a deeper meaning somewhere below it, where the characters are all representatives and metaphors, or ... it just doesn't make sense. At all.
Actually, the programme notes (which I didn't read until afterwards) really did give a new insight into some of the mysteries and illogicalities that appear and had they might have been understood by someone in the Austro-Hungarian empire in the late 18th century with a knowledge of the political struggles within Freemasonry at that time. It suggests, for example, that Monostatos may have been modelled on a former black African slave who was an important figure in Vienna freemasonry and defected to a rival faction.
Other parts of the opera also suddenly become a lot clearer as you learn more of the context. It's hard to see these days who shocking it must have been to hear the story of how the absolute ruler, the Sun King, wills his insignia not to his Queen, but to the high priest of his cult (effectively, his prime minister). Or how both the Prince Tamino and the bumpkin Papageno are treated exactly equally and given the same opportunities by the Order (or for that matter, how Pamina too is given a chance for enlightenment). Or how the Act One duet on love is given to Pamina and Papageno, and not the Prince. With this in mind, and especially in view of the Enlightenment struggles between absolute rule and democracy, the Order comes across a little less like a looney, brain-washing bride-kidnapping cult. Only a little, of course.
The cast were all good in the roles. Emma Pearson, as the Queen of the Night, did well in the two famous arias, but I thought it was Emma Matthews as Pamina who made the most of her role. She looked a little old for the part at first, but her singing was heartfelt and breathtaking. Warwick Fyfe was a crowd favourite as Papageno and Tamino was a pleasing Tamino. In typical Mozart fashion, every time the story started seeming too silly or the characters too trite, something transcendent would happen. A perfect stillness in the middle of an aria, an unexpected mood or revelation, or a sudden heartfelt communion.
All up, an excellent day's entertainment.
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Date: 2009-01-25 10:20 am (UTC)But yeah, cultural context and subtext. I like the Magic Flute because it offers so many possibilities for interpretation, so many opportunities to say 'of course' without ever hitting you over the head with any single one.
Another reason I prefer period productions (in the light of this one I shall amend that preference a little, it sounds, well, properly baroque/extravagant without being 'period' as such) over modern ones that give you exactly one reading.
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Date: 2009-01-25 07:50 pm (UTC)If it doesn't make sense, it might be a Clue (or, of course, it might just not Make Sense). For example, as the programme pointed out, the priests announce that they're going to conduct the purification rituals of fire, water, earth and air, but there are only actually two trials - Water and Fire. This suggests that Tamino and Pamina are, in fact, the Air and Earth, which in turn suggests that the ritual may have had more to do with the Queen of the Night's abrupt defeat than you might think.