The Magic Flute

The L. A. Opera is performing Mozart's The Magic Flute from now until Dec. 15. It's a very unusual show. Now, that particular opera is kind of a strange one to begin with, effectively being a fairy tale with two simultaneous tracks in its plotline, in some ways parallel and in other ways intertwining. It's full of epic themes and Masonic elements, varies in required virtuosity from the simple (Papageno) to the very difficult (Queen of the Night), and has numerous other oddities as well.

But of course those have been part of the opera since its writing. Barrie Kosky, director of the Komische Oper Berlin, collaborated with the very inventive artists at London-based theater company 1927 to stage something very new. The area of the stage that can be walked on is reduced to essentially a proscenium: it's maybe 8 feet deep. Behind that stands a blank, white wall about 18 feet high and nearly the width of the stage. Panels in the wall allow the actors to appear in various places, including 10 feet above the floor: a panel swivels 180 degrees, and there stands the actor on a tiny semicircle of a platform, surreptitiously belted to the panel for safety. At the same time, animations projected onto the wall provide scenery, special effects, and stage props. An actor might appear to be standing on a giant, mechanical hand, riding an elephant, or flying with a firefly's wings and body.

The hundreds of animations strongly reflect the designers' influences, which include German expressionist films, cabaret, pre-code cartoons, and other silent-movie-era genres... and quite possibly absinthe. Monostatos, for example, is no longer a Moor, but instead is Nosferatu, down to the pointed ears. And when drunk, the leading men have visions of pink elephants. Flying pink elephants. In garters.

One very useful innovation has to do with the Singspiel form of the opera, different from some other forms in that it includes spoken sections instead of recitative (sung). These were abbreviated and put into projected written form in the style of silent movies. Though the lyrics were still in the original German, the "spoken" parts were translated to English for the Los Angeles run of the opera, which worked very well indeed.

Though I've seen the opera a few times before, this was the first time in a good many years, and the first time I realized what was going on with the parallel story lines I mentioned above. The dramatic thread was the high, noble, philosophical approach to self-improvement and challenges, and the comedic thread showed the simple commoner's approach to life. This I had an inkling of before, but it was crystal clear this time around, though whether through my own personal advancement or the way in which it was presented, I really don't know.

Something I definitely didn't understand previously was the humor. Sometimes a line would jump out at me as a bit strange(r), a criticism unwarranted, uncharacteristic harshness, or similar. With all the 18th and 19th century reading I've done, it suddenly struck me that these were wry and high-browed jokes, the sort of thing I see regularly in modern life, particularly among the intellectual set. It's just that some things don't translate very well, or easily. Drop "world's oldest joke" in your favorite search engine and you'll see what I mean. Or have a go at any medieval comedies, for that matter.

If you have a chance to see it, I do recommend seeing this very unusual presentation of a landmark, unusual opera. The production is fascinating and the voices, stellar. Though that shouldn't perhaps be much of a surprise, it being the L.A. Opera, after all.