[LJ2ME] The Makcik Flute
When it comes to fiscal reports and statistics, budgeted, forecast and actual numbers will invariably differ, the manifested figure the true indicator of performance.
Similarly, the Singapore Lyric Opera is subject to these vagaries in its productions over a season. As a result of financial restrictions to a greater extent and artistic restrictions to a lesser extent, proposed and announced operas have been pulled or changed closer to the date. When push comes to shove, better to stick to a tried and tested popular repertoire piece that might at least break even rather than a lesser work that feeds the soul but starves the body. And thus is Salome replaced by Carmen next year.
From the promotional materials, the Oriental theme of this production of Mozart's The Magic Flute raised an eyebrow at first exposure. When the Asian slant was confirmed, one tried to keep an open mind and be receptive to innovation. After all, the opera is not time and site specific like some other works. One tried to keep an open mind. Tried being the operative word here.
With Tamino aka Sang Nila Utama wearing mithril, Papageno a Hindu god in purple tights and a collar of peacock quills, the genii recalling Nezha battling butterfly spirits and the Queen of the Night a wayang artiste where the height of her pheasant feather headpiece competed with her music, the eyes and mind boggled at the spectacle.
And I'm just getting warmed up. Sarastro was a transvestite monk-nun, the Speaker was a bapak tribal healer, Monostatos in the guise of a green parrot and the temple folk were an amalgam of Balinese and Polynesian influences, the chorus at risk of a wardrobe malfunction at any time with wraps barely keeping them warm.
There was so much to occupy and entertain that one almost forgot to listen to the music. Besides the riot on stage, in the orchestra pit, Seah Huan Yuh was battling a bug, sneezing openly and blowing into tissues strewn on his dais. See Ian Ike kept stealing glances backwards upwards onto stage. Other players were flipping through the programme when it wasn't their cue and one was caught air conducting along to the music. And was that actually a reservist acquaintance leading the second violins?
Almost like a company production, the default roster of usual suspects lined up the cast. Nancy Yuen's Pamina perhaps cast only because she's sleeping with the Boss, the old joke disproved by her penetrating projection and earnest acting. Tai Hsiao Chun's scaled-down QOTN despatched without hiccup but the tempo could have been picked up and her lower notes were not supported with all the concentration up there.
And what of the English dialogue? My ears hurt at the effortful overenunciation of received pronounciation. Not much else to say. I never quite appreciated this work beyond the coloratura, compared to the da Ponte trilogy.
Similarly, the Singapore Lyric Opera is subject to these vagaries in its productions over a season. As a result of financial restrictions to a greater extent and artistic restrictions to a lesser extent, proposed and announced operas have been pulled or changed closer to the date. When push comes to shove, better to stick to a tried and tested popular repertoire piece that might at least break even rather than a lesser work that feeds the soul but starves the body. And thus is Salome replaced by Carmen next year.
From the promotional materials, the Oriental theme of this production of Mozart's The Magic Flute raised an eyebrow at first exposure. When the Asian slant was confirmed, one tried to keep an open mind and be receptive to innovation. After all, the opera is not time and site specific like some other works. One tried to keep an open mind. Tried being the operative word here.
With Tamino aka Sang Nila Utama wearing mithril, Papageno a Hindu god in purple tights and a collar of peacock quills, the genii recalling Nezha battling butterfly spirits and the Queen of the Night a wayang artiste where the height of her pheasant feather headpiece competed with her music, the eyes and mind boggled at the spectacle.
And I'm just getting warmed up. Sarastro was a transvestite monk-nun, the Speaker was a bapak tribal healer, Monostatos in the guise of a green parrot and the temple folk were an amalgam of Balinese and Polynesian influences, the chorus at risk of a wardrobe malfunction at any time with wraps barely keeping them warm.
There was so much to occupy and entertain that one almost forgot to listen to the music. Besides the riot on stage, in the orchestra pit, Seah Huan Yuh was battling a bug, sneezing openly and blowing into tissues strewn on his dais. See Ian Ike kept stealing glances backwards upwards onto stage. Other players were flipping through the programme when it wasn't their cue and one was caught air conducting along to the music. And was that actually a reservist acquaintance leading the second violins?
Almost like a company production, the default roster of usual suspects lined up the cast. Nancy Yuen's Pamina perhaps cast only because she's sleeping with the Boss, the old joke disproved by her penetrating projection and earnest acting. Tai Hsiao Chun's scaled-down QOTN despatched without hiccup but the tempo could have been picked up and her lower notes were not supported with all the concentration up there.
And what of the English dialogue? My ears hurt at the effortful overenunciation of received pronounciation. Not much else to say. I never quite appreciated this work beyond the coloratura, compared to the da Ponte trilogy.