In its second revival, Simon McBurney’s staging of The Magic Flute at English National Opera delivers total theatricality in a world of folklore, smart effects and moments of orchestral genius. Against an austere backdrop with a cleverly designed sloping platform, his version of the Mozart classic offers shadow puppetry, projected mountains, a roving camera, a bookshelf as the gate to a fortress and many, many birds. It’s a beautiful, zany production that works hard to embellish the oddness – and non-plot – of The Magic Flute.
On-stage Foley artist Ruth Sullivan plays through a roster of smart sound effects, varying from the classic of a large tin sheet to a set of bells, while Ben Thompson uses a video camera to set the background with huge creativity. The Magic Flute is very rarely a funny production, but this revival had the Coliseum audience in stitches. Between Thompson’s perky chalkboard doodles and David Stout’s physical comedy as Papageno, the opera raised plenty of laughs. Stephen Jeffreys’ translation modernises the strangeness of the opera in a way that is usually elegant, although some of the libretto is unwieldy. McBurney and revival director Rachael Hewer tone down some of the Masonic elements of the opera but entirely retain its folkloric tone and explore its theatrical possibilities. The production lags a little in the second half, but picks up for a triumphant finish. It is a staging that captures the battiness of Mozart's mystical Singspiel, while updating it for a modern audience.
Under the conducting of Erina Yashima, the ENO Orchestra had a wonderful time. From the outset, when it lurched into the overture without any dimming of the house lights, it was very much part of the performance. Set in a raised pit, the players were fully in the action, with musicians occasionally rising to flutter their sheet music as Papageno’s birds. Particularly engaging was Claire Wickes, who happily appeared on stage to play the titular flute.
Rainelle Krause as the Queen of the Night delivered on “Der Hölle Rache”, the Act 2 aria everyone had come to see. Fast, thrilling and fiery, she showed both agile coloratura and a vocal power that conveyed her need for vengeance. As Pamina, Sarah Tynan was sparkling and lyrical, with a clear soprano and a twinkling good-nature that matched well against Stout’s bumbling charm as Papageno. American tenor Norman Reinhardt’s Tamino was pleasingly rich, if occasionally moving into a more West End-style pronunciation. As Sarastro, sitting atop his cult of middle-management men in grey suits, John Relyea delivered a commanding bass with gravitas and sincerity.
The lewd maidens in camo – Carrie-Ann Williams, Amy Holyland and Stephanie Wake-Edwards – were immaculately coordinated, their voices matched wonderfully. The trio of spirits sang angelically and were presented as suitably creepily.
