Before I post further I have to say very clearly that I am not a huge fan of Mozart opera. OK before all Mozartians scream with outrage and think of dreadful things to do to me, I fully admit that there is something lacking in my make up on this. I love huge swathes of Wolfgang's output and love them dearly but on the whole have come to grief with his opera. This is something I regret believe me. I have tried. I have seen Don Giovanni many times. Back in the days when I frequented the Royal Opera House weekly, I saw a dream cast - Tito Gobbi as the Don and Geraint Evans as Leporello and you don't get much better than that I can tell you, and several productions at ENO and elsewhere. This score is full of magnificent music and yet I find the characters repellent and cannot engage with any of them. By the time the Don is dragged into hell by the Statue of the Commendatore I cannot help but think about time too and get out of the House as quickly as possible.
Marriage of Figaro - wonderful, yet by the last act I have had enough. Cosi Fan Tutte - well don't even go there. Again, music to die for but the main protagonists are ghastly people. I have also sat through Idomineo and it was only by large cups of black coffee in the interval that I could keep awake..
BUT, there is always an exception and in this case it is the Magic Flute which I went to yesterday at the English National Opera. I adore this opera from start to finish. Now why? It is down to the characters, Tamino, Pamina, Papageno, Papagena, Sarastro et al - I can feel with them and wish them well and want all to end happily, which I don't with the others I have mentioned. The music is totally and utterly sublime and the theme of this opera of the discovery of wisdom and truth and love is one which nobody in their right minds could argue with. Balanced against the trials that the lovers must overcome to triumph we have the wonderful bird catcher Papageno and his desire to find his Papagena and be happy in his little home with his wife and children. In truth, all he and his master Tamino desire, is true love and happiness which, let's face it, we all want.
This production is now some 20 years old and originally produced by Nicholas Hytner of the Royal Shakespeare Company. It has always been popular and highly regarded and this is the third time I have seen it. It glows with light and simplicity, humour and wit and the moment in the first act when Papageno is singing his Bird catcher song and trills on his flute and white doves flutter out of the wings, is always a moment of sheer delight and beauty and never fails to bring gasps from the audience. At the end of his aria he gently puts the birds back in their basket and this time there was one (always is!) who did not want to go back in and the singer, Roderick Williams (who was quite wonderful) had a bit of trouble with it and the dove seemed to like his perch and was reluctant to descend. Most of the audience got the giggles but everyone kept very quiet so the bird was not spooked, and when he was finally persuaded to enter his basket thunderous applause and cheers from us all.
This set the tone for the rest of the afternoon. Packed house totally absorbed and when we reached the final scene when all has been overcome, the lovers are presented to the Temple and they are united, there is the most glorious chord and the chorus swells up and so did I. My throat closed and off I went. My friend Rosemary, who sang Papagena in a production years ago, was similarly affected.
The afternoon was just one of those perfect occasions that are pure serendipity as you never know when they are going to suddenly happen. When we were going to our seats I noticed a huge party of boys in school uniform arrive in a throng, they were all about 12. Oh please let them sit somewhere else said I in my Grumpy Old Woman of Colchester mode and my heart sank. They did. Phew. And then I was ashamed of myself as on the way out they were all chatting and laughing and I heard one of them say 'Boy that was really cool'. Could not have put it better myself.
