SEATTLE – On March 2, 650 kids sat in the spellbound audience of The Magic Flute at Seattle Opera’s McCaw Hall, the 2,900-seat opera house. They were brimming with anticipation for W. A. Mozart’s beloved final opera that premiered in Vienna in 1791. After 233 years, its fairytale heart exuding measure after measure of beautiful music keeps beating. There is no end to its improvisations, and this version, with video-projected animation shaping the opera, was especially charming – and disarming – if you’re accustomed to more conventional productions.

Seattle Opera’s show ran for eight performances Feb. 22 through March 9, and two were sellouts. With the March 2 sellout, 2,250 adults along with the aforementioned kids attended. Many grownups likely had seen the much staged piece before — some, like me, several times. But most had not experienced this wildly original animated production that referenced silent movies, vaudeville and German cabaret tropes, with Monty Python and comic-book explosions humorously pieced in. 

Animated, in this case, meant that projections of hand-drawn animation were coordinated with the live performance. The plot included  the love-journey of Tamino (tenor Duke Kim) and Pamina (soprano Brandie Sutton), the wacky Buster-Keaton-like portrayal of lovelorn bigmouth Papageno (baritone Rodion Pogossov), accompanied by a clever acrobatic cat, and Sarastro’s (bass In Sung Sim) battle of enlightenment over the spooky Queen of the Night (soprano Sharleen Joynt), who sang the much anticipated, unforgettable aria of stratospheric notes to enthusiastic bravas. The roles of Tamino, Pamina and the three young soprano genies were double-cast.

Created in 2012 by director Barrie Kosky of Komische Oper Berlin and 1927 British animators and “conceptualizers” Suzanne Andrade and Paul Barritt, and co-produced by Los Angeles and Minnesota operas, this Magic Flute version has traveled the world. For the Seattle production, under Revival Stage’s Erik Friedman’s direction and Christine Brandes’ baton, the opera was changed a tiny bit, notably the sets backstage. A few of the projected words were changed from German to English in the “inter-titles” (substitutes for spoken words) that pop up every so often and remind you of silent movies. The singers had to follow hundreds of cues to end up in the correct places in the projected animation, and for the most part, they did. Friedman devoted most rehearsal time to these complex logistics, and said in an email that the Seattle cast adjusted well and learned quickly. But it was a feat of coordination.

Describing the animation with words is a tall order. You had to see it. But in brief, such inventions as flying pink elephants appear after the goofy Papageno takes a peppermint-pink drink rather than the traditional glass of wine. The magic flute morphs into a moving string of musical symbols, and out of Papageno’s bells burst curvaceous red and white dancing girls. When Papageno talks too much, disembodied mouths bounce around. Complicated architectural animations related to the Age of  Reason and Enlightenment in Sarastro’s kingdom added another dimension in the second act. The animation enhanced the comedy, and the whimsical visual feast appealed to the kid and inventor in most of us.

Partly because of the extraordinary animation, the singing takes a back seat at times. Some older folks complained that the singing was lost in the unfamiliar video “gimmicks.” I didn’t complain, though it was challenging to concentrate on arias with such a stream of dynamic visual elements to watch.

The first act’s visuals came on so strongly that you almost forgot Tamino’s tenor. Once you adjusted to the imaginative animation, it was a treat to tune into the voices of the main singers, and to those of the secondary ones, such as the Three Ladies (soprano Ariana Wehr, soprano Ibidunni Ojikutu, and mezzo Laurel Semerdjian) who save Tamino from the serpent at the beginning of the first act and reappear during the second-act trials that the lovers endure. Tenor Rodell Rosel’s naughty Monostatos was another well-sung portrayal. In the second act the arias and duets ramp up, and suddenly you are caught up equally in the visuals and the music.

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In one of many theatrical details, the cast’s faces were made up in thick white makeup, reminiscent of silent film and Berlin cabaret. “Within the world of opera, it takes on a sort of fairytale or dream-like quality,” stage director Friedman explained in an email after the opera. Two Mozart fantasias for solo piano emerged here and there, the K. 397 in D minor and K. 475 in C minor, undistracting bonuses if you were a Mozart music-lover.

Mozart and librettist Emanuel Schikaneder were Free Masons who believed in the scientific method and questioned authority. One theory exists that the nefarious, mysterious Queen of the Night represents the Catholic Church, or royalty. Who knows for sure? Mozart and his librettist threw in a bunch of au courant ideas, and in the end, the youth, not Sarastro’s priests, held the answers. The three Genies escort Pamina and Tamino through their trials, and help Papageno find his delightful equally goofy Papagena (soprano Tess Altiveros). This layered Magic Flute on the surface felt like a fairytale and a sweet obstacle-strewn love story, but in the end, it was and is anything but a simple opera.

Twelve-year-old Soren Rose, who has attended several operas and studies piano, was sipping on a soft drink at intermission when he told me politely that the opera was “pretty good … most operas are boring. This one is less boring.” He smiled, his braces flashing, when he said it, and then headed back for the second act of the two-hour opera.