"The Magic Flute" is one of the most loved operas of all time. It is important to be clear about that fact, because one would not know this after seeing it performed at the National Museum of Women in the Arts.
The fact that the set looks as though it was drawn by a 5-year-old child is the first clue that something about this show has gone horribly awry. Although her paintings for sale after the show are beautiful, Helen Zughaib, the set designer, should stick to canvas because her style does not translate well to the enormous wood cutouts that dominate the stage.
The second clue is the phrase "Mozart 'with a twist'" in the program. Of course, not all translated and modernized versions of operas are bad. Unfortunately, this one is. Allyson Currin (who wrote the new book) and Kelley Rourke (who wrote the new lyrics) should be ashamed of themselves for such unadulterated blasphemy of Mozart's work.
Normally, plot summary is not required for an opera as well-known as "The Magic Flute." However, it is necessary in this case, as it is almost unrecognizable from the original whimsical fairy tale children's opera of 1791.
In the new version, everyone is on drugs, which is used to help explain the crazy things that happen to them. Tamino and Papageno are each given a cell phone instead of a flute and bells, and are led not by genii, but by cheerleaders. The Queen and Sarastro are divorcees involved in a nasty custody battle over Pamina.
And that's not all. Currin and Rourke apparently decided that the characters needed to be "cool" and must therefore use lots of slang. This yields such dialogue gems as "she's the biggest bi-otch in da 'hood." Not to mention songs titled "I Used to be a Pizza Guy," about chicken wings and "I Love This Funny Little Thingamabob," which is about a cell phone. A personal favorite lyric is "I'd like to disappear / I also want a beer," which expresses the emotions one can only assume the audience experiences during much of the show.
Even with such a miserable script, good singing could have saved the performance. Alas, no luck there either. The mezzo-soprano housewife (Grace Gori) is dominated by the two sopranos (Rayanne Gonzales and Alice Dillon), which destroys the balance of the trio. Tamino (Ole Hass) is consistently flat on his high notes, and Dr. Sarastro (David Brundage) is simply consistently flat. The Queen (Rebecca Ocampo) actually over-does her opening aria. No one in the ensemble has clear diction, which explains a comment overhead during intermission: "I didn't even know they were speaking English for the first 20 minutes."
Even with the convoluted plot and the lack of pronunciation, the most confusing thing about this show is why director Joe Banno, a respected opera critic for Washington City Paper and classical music reviewer at The Washington Post, could ever have allowed a monstrosity like this to take the stage.
Mozart is rolling in his grave.
