From the moment the overture starts, without dimming of the house lights, applause for the conductor or warning of any kind, hopes are high for a playful, challenging yet engaging production of this opera, whose action and themes can be so difficult for a modern audience to relate to, despite some of Mozart’s best loved music. And when a video artist appears stage right and starts scrawling “The Magic Flute” on a chalkboard which then, by some multi-media magic becomes the backdrop, and a Foley artist appears in her booth stage left ready to create the sound-world of this fantasy land we are about to enter, expectation is tangible.The Magic Flute is a difficult piece to categorise. It was created as a bit of populist, 18th century froth, through which some notions of wisdom, love and enlightenment (partially drawn from the ideals of Freemasonry) periodically bubble to the surface so that, in lesser productions, there can be an awkward, confusing clash of intentions, like watching a sex farce in church.
Here, director Simon McBurney (co-founder of Complicite) leads us with a firm hand and a twinkle in the eye, as we follow Prince Tamino and Papageno the bird-catcher on their quest to rescue Pamina, daughter of The Queen Of The Night, from the clutches of Sarastro, who may either be a wise protector or a manipulative cult-leader (this production leaves that ambiguity pleasingly unresolved).
Lovers of The Magic Flute may not love everything here: Papageno and Pamina’s duet, stunningly beautiful in its simplicity, struggles to emerge unscathed from some unnecessarily busy choreography; Papageno is played entirely for character-comedy thwarting any emotional release from the final success of his search for an end to loneliness; characterising The Queen Of The Night as a shrivelled old woman in a wheelchair may divert some sympathy towards her (not a bad idea in itself) but ultimately seems contrary for the sake of being contrary.
Musically, this is a near-faultless evening
Musically though, this is a near-faultless evening. ENO’s orchestra, under Music Director Mark Wigglesworth, is on top form, relishing his brisk, even racy tempos, and making the most of their opportunities to be part of the action in a specially raised orchestra pit. (Special mention here to the uncredited Glock player and flautist, both of whom give assured on-stage performances). James Creswell’s Sarastro has gravitas without ever being self-indulgent, Allan Clayton’s Tamino combines passion with a light touch, and Lucy Crowe’s rendition of Pamina’s despairing and beautiful Act 2 aria is as good as I can remember hearing recently.
By the end of the evening, enlightenment may still be a way off, and I’m not sure that collective wisdom has been increased significantly, but I’m pleased to report that there’s plenty of love in the room.
The Master Builder is probably Henrik Ibsen’s most autobiographical piece. Inspired by his fascination with a younger woman, the Norwegian playwright created a story which examines the existential and universal themes of guilt, desire, creativity and despair. The Old Vic’s fantastic production of The Master Builder directed by its artistic director Matthew Warchus and starring Ralph Fiennes, is a tribute to Ibsen’s compelling work.