Review: Mozart's Die Entführung aus dem Semrail at Glyndebourne

After seeing David McVicar's glitzy revival at Glyndebourne, I'm still not convinced it's among Mozart's finest. But the performances almost make you forget its flaws.

First performed in Vienna in 1782, the comic opera follows the Spanish nobleman Belmonte as he attempts to rescue his fiancée Konstanze and their servants Blonde and Pedrillo from the harem of the Turkish ruler Pasha Selim after they are captured by pirates.

French soprano Julie Roset was a revelation as the spirited Blonde, balancing razor-sharp comic timing with genuine warmth, while Michael Mofidian, returning to Glyndebourne, stole every scene as the delightfully petty Osmin.

Under Evan Rogister, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment gave Mozart's tender, playful score irresistible momentum.

But, before we continue, another confession: my only previous live opera experience was a 2023 production of Tosca in Moldova, where I was reporting on Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine. And I'm sorry to say I briefly nodded off during the second act.

In my defence, I'd spent the previous night on a drafty bus from Bucharest. And, to be clear, this humiliating faux-pas was nothing to do with Rodica Picireanu's soulful performance as the doomed heroine. But opera can sometimes feel like a test of stamina as much as an enjoyable night out.

In contrast, Glyndebourne goes out of its way to make opera - dare I say it? - fun.

Despite its famous black-tie dress code, there is little sense of the custom being enforced. More importantly, the 90-minute dinner interval – alongside an earlier 20-minute break – transforms the evening into a leisurely occasion, allowing audiences to picnic in the beautiful grounds between acts.

Our own contribution to this storied tradition came in the form of a bottle of Asda prosecco. Neither of us drinks much fizz, and my date accidentally sent the cork sailing, in agonising slow motion, into the river - where it came to rest among an island of lush green lily pads.

We dissolved into horrified laughter, convinced we'd committed an unforgivable Glyndebourne faux pas. When a member of staff did approach us, however, it was only to ask if we wanted a picnic blanket.

My enjoyment of the opera itself was more complicated.

Although Mozart subverts expectations by making Pasha Selim a merciful ruler rather than a caricatured villain, the story remains rooted in 18th-century Europe's anxieties about and fascination with the Ottoman Empire, and consequently comes with a hefty dose of Orientalism.

Konstanze succeeds in convincing Selim not to force himself on her. (Image: Bill Knight)

Much of the drama depends on the constant threat of sexual violence. Konstanze's greatest trial is resisting the Pasha's advances, while Blonde's gleeful defiance of Osmin's increasingly wild-eyed demands provides the evening's biggest laughs.

Because this is comic opera, the audience knows the threats will never be carried out. Even so, there is a tension between its lavish beauty and the ugliness of the realities behind it that I found unsettling, even claustrophobic at times.

Yet Mozart's music repeatedly transcends the story. Belmonte spends most of the opera mooning after Konstanze and providing a foil for quick-witted Pedrillo - but when he sings that "things that seem impossible can be achieved through love," the beauty of the score momentarily elevates him into a real romantic hero.

Die Entführung may not have the eery, otherworldly magic of The Magic Flute or the humanity of The Marriage of Figaro. But it has an enchantment all of its own.

And its superb cast, luminous orchestra, and gorgeous venue meant I was in no danger of embarrassing myself by falling asleep at the opera a second time.