Socialist-Realist Mozart

"My Praguers understand me."

--Mozart in 1787

Operagoers at the opening of The Magic Flute at Prague's National Theater last week were scarcely settled in their seats when they were startled by three thunderclaps from the drums. The curtain rose on a Tamino dressed in a flamboyant sports outfit. He was presently joined by the Queen of the Night, who arrived in a carriage drawn by several men in tail coats and top hats. Thus prepared, the audience was scarcely surprised to see Sarastro roaming the Temple of Wisdom in a business suit, or later sitting on Pamina's bed in a modern bedroom while singing the famed aria In Diesen Heil'gen Hallen with its Masonic message of brotherly love. In the background loomed towers of concentration camps, cages filled with ballet dancers, and an assortment of plain kitchen chairs.

A third of the way through the performance, the stunned audience had recovered itself enough to start booing and hissing; by the middle of the evening a fourth of the audience had stomped out angrily. Next day the newspapers were in full and angry cry. Said the critic of Prace: "Even the premiere audience was often in doubt, and how much more in doubt will be our working people who go to the theater to enjoy themselves and be instructed." Nonsense, replied Director Bohumil Hrdlicka. He had simply been trying to infuse a little life and "socialist realism" into Mozart. For two more nights Hrdlicka and Conductor Jaroslav Kronbholc braved the rising storm. Then came the call from the Ministry of Culture, and Mozart departed from the boards of his beloved city.

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