Magic Flute
OPÉRA DE MONTRÉAL
Barrie Kosky and Suzanne Andrade’s production of The Magic Flute has arrived in Montreal almost forty cities after its 2012 premiere at the Komische Oper in Berlin. Their marvellous machine deploys 21st century technology to dress up an 18th century opera in 20th century references like silent film, vaudeville, pantomime, and German Expressionism.
It is very impressive. The stage is like an advent calendar, just a flat white wall with hidden compartments that singers pop out of like cuts in a film, which eliminates most entrances and exits and speeds things up, as does replacing Singspiel dialogue with text cards. Paul Barritt’s beautiful animations are projected from floor to ceiling and never stop moving. This total retinal occupation is well-suited to audiences with screen addictions, who might lose focus during repeats, while singers literally strapped to the walls can park and bark with impunity. The computerized animations adjust their timing to the conductor—Christopher Allen, getting remarkable sound out of the Orchestre Métropolitain—which makes it all feel like watching a living world and not singers sweating to keep up with a film. It’s an exciting demonstration of what smart directing can do with contemporary technology.
Soprano Kim-Lillian Strebel was captivating as Pamina/Louise Brooks and her “Ach, ich fühl’s” stayed with me for a few days after like an ache. A German intensive wouldn’t hurt tenor Brian Wallin, but his tuxedoed Tamino had the right note of haplessness. Baritone Richard Sveda had the easiest job of all in this opera of cardboard archetypes, since there’s only one character you can possibly identify with, the relatable simpleton Papageno/Buster Keaton, and Sveda fleshed him out with charm and well-fed sound. Soprano Anna Siminska sang too prettily as the Queen of the Night, but an animated Louise Bourgeois spider throwing knives was frightening on her behalf. As for Sarastro, bass Christian Zaremba doing the best he can, this role is the most uninspired part of this musical wonder. The role of Sarastro always makes me picture a dusty church with a priest going on and on, totally oblivious that everyone has left. Tenor John Robert Lindsey was a mumbly Monostatos/Nosferatu while Matthew Dalen and Jean-Philippe McClish had a promising hint of brimstone in their scene as guards escorting Tamino in the temple. Soprano Elizabeth Polese sparkled, briefly too briefly, as Papagena.
But as the first act ends and the opera shifts from introducing the characters to using them to express its (Masonic) morality, the playfulness of the animated world begins to feel naive. The production—not talking, not eating, etc.—while Papageno the servant does all the actual work of finding the princess. Maybe best to stage it as an 18th-century recreation after all.
