In any poll of opera stage directors, Mozart’s Magic Flute would place pretty high on the list of problem properties. More than likely these artists either fear tackling it, have attempted it and reaped the worst reviews of their careers, or at best have decided that the solution to its production riddles will be revealed in due course—and they will content themselves with awaiting its eventual appearance.
Why is this so? The music is sublime. Conductors and singers have often been found who can perform it superbly. There are no holes in the composer’s lyric inspiration. But what are we to make of the libretto, this morality play steeped in eighteenth century Viennese freemasonry, this comedy-fantasy set in a timeless land of earthbound gods and goddesses? Do we laugh? Do we look for uplift? Do the yards and yards of spoken dialogue add or subtract? Is it a fairy tale, a dream, or a sermon, this Singspiel of Mozart’s, his final “German” opera?
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