A truly magical "Magic Flute"

Many years ago I remember hearing actor Tony Randall (of TV's "Odd Couple") talk about Mozart.

He said something to the effect of "Most people either love Mozart or hate him."  Well...I love him.  I have always loved Mozart. I love Mozart's elegance; I love the symmetry of his work. I loved playing his easiest pieces when I was taking piano lessons as a girl and I yearned to play his more sophisticated works, but they were "Not in my wheelhouse" as folks say these days (it might have helped if I had practiced more).  I was never a very good pianist, and more's the pity.  As for singing his operas, that just was never going to happen for me, I'm indeed quite limited.  Regardless, I have loved those operas and loved going to see them in production. When I was working on my dissertation on Texaco's support of the Metropolitan Opera Broadcasts, I happened to be doing part of my research at the Metropolitan Opera House when they were mounting the famous Chagall production.

One afternoon, I had occasion to walk across the stage in front of those magnificent sets and I have to admit, I thought that was pretty darned special.  Up until recently, I didn't think anything could come close to the sublime quality of the marriage between Mozart and Chagall.


My clever daughter Nina arranged for us to go to a dress rehearsal of the Minnesota Opera's wild and wonderful production of "The Magic Flute".  We got there early to hear the MO's amazing Head of Music, Rob Ainsley, offer insights on The Magic Flute and his "favorite dude of all time", Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Ainsley, who hails from the northeast of England, gave an inspired talk. 

He shared facts from Mozart's life--his virtuosity by age three, his lifelong career as a composer, and the struggles of his last five years.  Deep in dept and sick, Mozart sunk into a terrible depression in the last years of his life, yet he never stopped composing.  And then things changed. He composed a number of amazing pieces, including the final piano concerto in B flat, the clarinet concerto, his last quintet, the Requiem and the Magic Flute.  Ironically, his productivity paid off and he started to climb out of debt, but it didn't save his life.

Ainsley demonstrated some of the motifs of the Magic Flute on the piano--Mozart's use of three note chords, his implementation of the rhythm of the Masonic knock, and his incorporation of the lighthearted tunes of "the people".  As Ainsley played those examples on the piano his facial expressions were priceless, matching them to the mood of the sample he was sharing.  He ended his presentation by featuring singers performing the Papageno/Papagena duet. It's hard to imagine anything more charming and delightful.

Photo of Rob Ainsley and yours truly by Nina R. Graham.

This Magic Flute is a co-production between the L.A. Opera and the Minnesota Opera.  The British Theater company "1927" staged the performance along with the Komische Oper Berlin.  I have never seen anything like it. 

The "set" was a two-dimensional white surface with cut-out doors that reminded me of an advent calendar. This surface became the canvas for 1920s Art Deco influenced animation.  The characters appeared on perches at different levels (as well as on the surface of the stage itself) in Kabuki-esque white face.  Pamina sported a '20s bob and wore a flapper dress.

The Magic Flute 2014 (c) Robert Millard For LA Opera

Sarastro looked like Charlie Chaplin wearing a stove-pipe hat.  Monostatos looked for all the world just like Nosferatu. The real killer, though, was the Queen of the Night as an enamel white  "black widow spider" (also a bit Nosferatu-like).

The Magic Flute 2014 (c) Robert Millard For LA Opera

In addition to the English translation of the lyrics provided in the bar at the top of the "screen" (as is common), the normally spoken dialogue of the "singspiel" appeared as part of the projected animation, along with other animated images.

The Magic Flute 2014 (c) Robert Millard For LA Opera

The characters "moved" in a number of different stylized mannerisms.  Monostatos "walked" an animated dog on a leash across the screen.

The Magic Flute 2014 (c) Robert Millard For LA Opera

Papageno and Pamina "ran", vigorously pumping their arms, while standing behind a "Dutch" door with running legs projected on the front.  Other "movements" took place while the lights went black and the actors scurried behind the white surface and onto their perches.

The animated images were phenomenal "silent" movies filled with creatures--sometimes in black and white, and sometimes in burnished colors.

The Magic Flute 2014 (c) Robert Millard For LA Opera 

The use of animation as set allowed the production designers to realize the most incredible visions of their imaginations.  The coherence of that vision was transporting--it felt as though we were in the roaring twenties watching this fantasy come to life.  One of the great things about the Magic Flute is that it really isn't constrained by time.

The program included an essay by one of the "Three Ladies" who described the tightness of the choreography required to "get it right".  She emphasized the necessity of endless rehearsals attending to the musical cues in order to accomplish this goal.  From what I could tell, the company succeeded.  As we were watching the rehearsal, I perceived one terrifying glitch--Pamina stopped projecting in the second act.  I thought to myself, "This is a disaster" and then I recalled the host for the evening telling us that since this was a dress rehearsal the singers might indeed stop singing in order to preserve their voices for the opening night.  Whew! I was so relieved.

It's such a revelation to experience something like this in live theater.  It gives me faith in humanity somehow to recognize the limitlessness of creativity.