'Die Zauberflote'

Notes from “The Magic Flute,” Dec. 9, 2009, at the Staatsoper in Berlin: Have I mentioned how much I hate this place? It’s been destroyed by bombs and fire three times and rebuilt each time, and this is the best they can do? As I mentioned earlier, the sightlines are practically nonexistent from the sides, it’s hot, there’s no legroom -- basically, when the doors shut behind you, it’s like being on an American Airlines flight.

This was an old-school production, and I mean that in a good way. The set designs, particularly the starry sky heralding the arrival of the Queen of the Night, resemble the pictures designer Karl Schinkel drew up in the early 1880s. Other scenes, mostly with an Asia Minor motif, achieved depth by layering painted gauze. Gigantic columns, temples, altars, smoldering tunnels into the earth -- they all showed up and were lifted away in seconds. By comparison, the sets in “Die Fledermaus,” in this same venue six days ago, took forever to swap out.

Everything I know about “Flute” I got from P. Craig Russell’s lavish comic book (no, you can’t borrow mine), so the plot was familiar to me, but I didn’t realize until tonight the vocal demands made on the Queen of Darkness (Ana Durlovsky) and Sarastro (Christof Fischesser). Durlovsky has to hit an F7 at one point -- that’s singer-speak for the upper limit of human capability, and baritone Fischesser obviously stretches things in the opposite direction. Clearly, Mozart was amused by these gymnastics.


The Three Boys had just the right measure of sweetness and mischief, casually tossing glitter on the crowd as they exited the stage, and a ton of other really young kids, like 4 or 5 -- Papageno’s offspring -- also seemed to delight the audience, as did the menagerie of flute-tamed, Sendak-type beasts that lolled around. At the curtain, some boos rang down for Durlovsky and I think I know why. When she made her first appearance, she sang a string of ascending sixteenth-notes and bended them (not sure what the right term is) rather than articulate them to the crowd’s satisfaction. She didn’t have this problem later in the night; there are just some demanding pricks in the upper rows. Not as tough a crowd as Milan I’m sure, but in mostly polite Berlin -- a city in which pedestrians wait for a green light with no traffic in either direction -- it’s a notable divergence from the norm.

Well, that’s my last opera this trip, unless I decide to go to Strauss’ “Woman Without a Shadow.” From a singer’s perspective, it’s 10 times the meat grinder “Flute” is -- more than four hours long, necessitating two intermissions. And it would be my only remaining opportunity to visit the Deutsch Oper (yeah, there are three opera houses here). In the parlance of the NFL, let's call it a game-time decision. (Staatsoper photos)

A pretty good view of the conductor and cast is below. If you look closely, you'll see the Three Boys slyly tossing their magic dust onto the folks in the front row. I don't know why I save these. Maybe just to remember the zeitgeist of the moment.