Opera resists P.C. in D.C.

The Washington Opera is currently presenting Mozart's last opera, The Magic Flute. Though confined to the tiny Eisenhower Theatre at the Kennedy Center, this fairy-tale chamber-opera came off very well with its allAmerican cast. Originally written for a vaudeville-type theatre, The Magic Flute is about pursuing wisdom, learning self-restraint, and finding true love.

The text was written for Mozart by a leading Freemason, and the Masonic imagery in the opera is undeniable. Sarastro, leader of the Temple of Wisdom, has abducted Pamina, the daughter of his nemesis (the Queen of the Night) until such time as she is claimed by her future true love, a prince named Tamino who has been destined for her by the gods. Upon encountering Sarastro's temple, Tamino seeks initiation into its mysteries. Is this all just an apologia for esoteric sectaries and a brief for child-stealing?

In Flute, things are not what they seem to the eyes of rash judgment. Tamino meets the Queen of the Night before he meets Sarastro; she seems nothing but a wronged mother as she sends him to rescue her daughter. But when we see Pamina and Sarastro together, she treats him not as a kidnapper, but as a father. Sarastro tells her why he took her: The Queen is a proud woman who was raising Pamina alone. This was wrong: A man must guide the princess. Flute is "sexist" to the nth degree.

When we see the Queen again, we discover that she does, after all, have access to Pamina. Yet she uses this access, not to "free" Pamina-but to give her a dagger and order her to kill Sarastro with it. Sarastro knows the Queen's intentions, but he assures Pamina that forgiveness is central to his teaching.

Thereafter, Pamina seeks to help Tamino as he undergoes the trials that lead to membership in Sarastro's order. Thus, the sexism of this opera is nuanced: It does not prevent Pamina from sharing Tamino's trials and triumph.

If Tamino and Sarastro are Don Quixote-like figures, the opera also gives us a Sancho Panza: the bird-catcher, Papageno, Tamino's unwilling sidekick. The ethereal heights of wisdom are not for him, but in the end he is not denied his heart's wish: a pretty wife and a brood of baby bird-catchers.

The Washington Opera production, directed by Sonja Frisell with sets by Zack Brown, was just whimsical enough without being cutesy. The pantomime animals were adorable; the solemn scenes were dignified and eye-filling. Papageno "caught" birds by snipping the fish-lines on which they were dangled onto the stage by stagehands hiding behind sets. Most of the other special effects were expertly handled with trapdoors. Only one effect fell flat: Tamino's and Pamina's final trial, in which they walk through water unharmed, was symbolized by having Sarastro's female votaries surround them with water jugs and pour some into a basin. Our hero and heroine never looked to be in danger of drowning; at worst they might get shampooed.

The singers were a gifted young crew. As Tamino, David Miller showed a sweet tenor voice that only once or twice seemed in danger of developing a bleating edge. Theresa Santiago was an exquisite Pamina. Daniel Mobbs was a funny and well-voiced Papageno. Eric Owens, a tall and handsome African-American bass, gave us a youth ful and appealing Sarastro. Owens' voice is warm and dark. One hopes it will grow in size: His opening lines, delivered from a throne at the back of the stage, did not quite fill the house.

Mozart opted to write the role of the villainess, the Queen of the Night, not as a menacing contralto but as a high-flying soprano. Her ornate vocal acrobatics make this a daunting role. Lorraine Ernest's voice at first seemed too small, but her high notes were perfect, and she excelled in her second-act aria (delivered from stage level). Making a deep impression in a minor role, tenor Robert Baker sang Monostatos, Sarastro's evil slave, depicted here as a cringing "Pantaloons," the "silly old man" figure from the Commeddia dell'Arte tradition. Watching the stage direction and listening to the English translation, one had to worry a little that the waters of political correctness may be beginning to lap at the shore of opera. Monostatos is meant to be "Moorish" that is, black Here, he was not, and all references to his blackness were changed. Fair enough: Making fun of this character on racial grounds is obnoxious, adds nothing to the plot, and would be especially silly in a performance that features an African-American Sarastro.

Then, when one of the priests asks Sarastro whether Tamino will succeed in the trials, being as he's a prince, Sarastro replies "Better than that: He is a man." Here, "man" became "human being." We can let that pass, too: The word in the original German is "Mensch", which means "man" in the generic sense, as distinct from "Mann," which means "man" in the sex-specific sense. And certainly the translators did not tone down the many "sexist" lines. Still, whenever you set out to change an opera's text because something in it has fallen out of cultural favor, you start down a slippery slope.

At the scene where Papageno and bride look forward to their wedded bliss, they sing of having numerous children. At that point, the director obviously instructed Mr. Mobb and Angela Turner Wilson, our chairing Papagena, to show fear and dismay. An attempt to put an anti-natalist spin on the scene? If so, the spin was reversed by the next special effect: a large lotus-flower full of Papageno's and Papagena's future childrenfive in all-who emerge one by one and embrace their parents.

Mr. Wagner is a senior writer with Insight rna,magazine.

Copyright Human Events Publishing, Inc. Feb 13, 1998
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