Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) might be described as the last of Mozart’s youthful operas, premiering in 1782, four years before the full flowering represented by Le nozze di Figaro. Furthermore, it represents a happy period in his life, appearing just before his marriage to Constanze Weber, reflected in the heroine’s name (Konstanze or Constanze). It is technically a Singspiel, with the narrative carried forward by spoken dialogue rather than recitative. Thus it makes sense to present the spoken parts in English, while preserving the German language of the sung parts.
The plot concerns the kidnapping of European ladies (with German names, although Blonde in the original declares herself to be English) by an oriental pasha, and their attempted rescue by their European (Spanish) beaux. Clearly this presents difficulties for a modern audience and it makes sense to provide some alternative scenario. In this Victorian Opera production, director Constantine Costi and conductor Chad Kelly have chosen to provide a modern setting, wherein the heroines have ventured into some kind of secluded cross between a cult headquarters and a nightclub, presided over by the androgynous Selim, overseen by Osmin, the bouncer. This somewhat recalls the setup of the Rocky Horror Show, wherein the conventional protagonists are surprised to discover something about themselves.
The settings are quite sumptuous (sets and costumes by Nathan Burmeister and Matilda Woodroofe), starting with a red curtain containing a heart-shaped entrance to the den of iniquity or palace of earthly delights. After a while, the curtain rises and we follow the men in to a suitably exotic setting with more heart-shaped apertures and a staircase. The costumes are striking; the girls start off in suburban floral frocks and the men in drab lounge suits, contrasting with Osmin’s red-fringed chaps and Selim’s glittering body stocking over which he sports an elaborate tiered and flounced red overgarment. Blonde quickly gets into the spirit of the new environment, appearing on the stairs in a short silver dress and wild platinum hair, while Konstanze undergoes a slower transformation into a very brief version of her previous outfit. The chorus is variously accoutred, one group as bellboys, another in red full-skirted affairs and the rest as a bunch of varied way-out characters. Paul Jackon's lighting is atmospheric.
To accommodate this new interpretation, the dialogue is written in entertaining Australian-English, and the score is somewhat rearranged. New musical items have been inserted, including some background music from other operas such as Le nozze, and (rather oddly) a Kyrie from one of Mozart’s masses. This is all well and good, and I suppose we can dispense with the entertaining duet “Vivat Bacchus”, but it is quite another thing to truncate the quartet “Ach, Belmonte”, an early example of Mozart’s sublime writing for vocal ensemble. This traces a trajectory from the joyful reuniting of the two couples, through doubt, to shamefaced apology from the men to unqualified celebration; stopping before the “Liebstes Blondchen ach! verzeihe” then wheeling in Belmonte’s rather boring aria, and then moving the “Es liebe die Liebe” to the end of the opera frustrates the musical and emotional resolution of the piece and seems a particularly injudicious cut. Given this interpretation is about self-discovery, perhaps the whole thing could have been performed intact right at the end?
Musically there was little to complain about. Orchestra Victoria played well under Kelly, with a lively rendition of the overture and sustaining the rich orchestration throughout, always in support of the singers. The chorus contributed vocally and dramatically, and the work of movement director Shannon Burns in getting everybody tidily around the stage should also be commended.
For a comic opera, Mozart makes quite some demands of his singers. As Konstanze, soprano Cleo Lee-McGowan has an attractive light and fast vibrato and sang with remarkable accuracy and flexibility. In the beginning she sounded a little shrill in some high notes, but steadied as the night wore on, and produced a formidable rendition of the fiendish “Marten aller Arten”. One feels the producers might have trusted the audience a little more and saved her being shot by bow and arrows till the very end.
Katherine Allen was an energetic Blonde and sang with attractive soprano tone. The two tenors were a good match for the girls, both with nice phrasing and good clear top notes, Kyle Steggall as the more conventional Belmonte reduced to embarrassment before the end, and Douglas Kelly as the more nervous Pedrillo. He made a nice fist of “Frisch zum Kampfe”. As the menacing bouncer Osmin, reduced to submission by Blonde, Luke Stoker looked the part, sang with smooth legato and produced some very resonant low notes. The non-singing role of Selim Pasha was totally inhabited by a seductively glamorous Lyndon Watts.
