Last Updated on August 2, 2026
Escape to the Country
4.5 out of 5.0 starsWith the hideous realities of people trafficking for sexual exploitation regularly in the news, it’s an apposite moment for a sparky revival of David McVicar’s 2015 production of Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail. The work is a landmark “singspiel” from 1782, a German form of opera promoted by Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II to rival Italian opera, that combines spoken dialogue with a sequence of arias, ensembles, and comic episodes. Written for the Burgtheater in Vienna, it was Mozart’s first major success in the city and helped establish his reputation beyond Salzburg. Die Entführung aus dem Serail reflects the late 18th-century fascination with “Turkish” subjects, though its setting in an imagined Ottoman world is more a European theatrical fantasy than a realistic portrait. The librettist, Gottlieb Stephanie the Younger, adapted the story from Christoph Friedrich Bretzner’s text, and the premiere took place on 16 July 1782 at the Burgtheater in Vienna. It was a tremendous success, although the technical demands of the vocal writing created practical challenges for performers.
The plot of Die Entführung aus dem Serail centres on the attempted rescue of a young Spanish noblewoman, Konstanze, her English maid, Blonde, and the servant, Pedrillo, from the palace of Pasha Selim, a governor in the Ottoman Empire. The trio had been kidnapped by Barbary pirates, with the women having been sold into the Pasha’s harem. Konstanze is engaged to Belmonte, who arrives in disguise to free her from captivity. Alongside him is his servant Pedrillo, who helps engineer the rescue, while Blonde has to fend off the boorish attention of Osmin, the Pasha’s irascible overseer.
Much of the plot’s momentum arises from a series of dualities: the hypocrisy of the West versus the ‘otherness’ of the Orientalist East, the gender divide that drives so much of Mozart’s work, the liminality of the line that demarcates desire and sexual fidelity, the power relationships of class and status that became another Mozartian trope, the stylistic tension between the comedy of opera buffa and the tragedy of opera seria, and in the final act the Pasha’s choice of mercy over revenge. But with all the seriousness of the underlying themes, the opera is primarily a comedic confection that sets out the landscape that Mozart develops further in The Marriage of Figaro and Cosi fan tutte.
Director David McVicar and designer Vicki Mortimer haven’t tried to reinvent the wheel with this production. It is set contemporaneously to the time of composition and has a respectful Ottoman aesthetic that would have been familiar to the original audience, allowing the focus to be on the human dynamics. The different types of boundaries and the testing of them that frame the drama are echoed in the set design. The Pasha’s palace is solid brick and guarded by the fearsome janissaries. Sliding decorative screens with elegant geometric patterns mark the boundary of the seraglio. There are arches and furniture and costumes made of rich layered fabrics; it’s all rather tasteful and a million miles away from a panto Aladdin.
The production has a top-notch young cast who can both sing and act their harem pants off. Cuban-Colombian tenor Anthony León cut a dashing figure as the romantic hero Belmonte, lyrical for the gorgeous aria “Hier soll ich dich denn sehen” with its long sustained notes but with his focused tone more suited vocally to the more heroic moments of the score.
American soprano Liv Redpath gave an outstanding performance as Belmonte’s inamorata Konstanze. Redpath is a classic “soprano leggero” with the range and agility of a coloratura but with the addition of a lyric warmth. She delivered the character’s signature aria “Martern aller Arten” with a combination of technical brilliance and emotional authenticity, and her “Welcher Wechsel herrscht in meiner Seele … Traurigkeit ward mir zum Lose” was genuinely affecting. Belmonte and Konstanze’s duet “Welch ein Geschick! O Qual der Seele…. Weh, du soltest für mich sterben” in which they accept their impending demise was sublime.
This production of Die Entführung plays up the profound sexual tension between Konstanze and Pasha Selim, a spoken role played by French actor Franck Saurel who reprises his role from the 2015 production. Saurel has an annoyingly musclebound stomach and made a convincingly seductive Pasha, a conflicted man torn between his entitlement and his humanity.
Scottish bass-baritone Michael Mofidian brought a stoic tenderness to his characterisation of Colline in La Bohème at the Royal Opera House. Here, as Osmin, he is very much the comic villain: a cartoonish, threatening character representing a European fear of Ottoman savagery. Whether he is spitefully attacking Pedrillo’s topiary or trying and failing to impose himself sexually upon Blonde, he represents the opposite pole to Pasha Selim’s refinement and revels in the physical humour of the role. Osmin’s Act 3 aria”O, wie will ich triumphieren”, in which he exults in the prospect of the impending execution of the foreign captives, is a rare example of bass coloratura writing. His voice has the agility for the part, but the extremely low Ds which the part calls for were underpowered.
French soprano Julie Roset as Blonde was more than a match for the predatory Osmin. The character of Blonde is a representative of the bluestocking movement in England from the 1750s, a precursor to feminism that asserted a woman’s right to intellectual, marital and social freedoms. Roset is feisty and aggressive in the defence of her rights, with her performance leavened by just the right amount of comic lightness. Her aria “Welche Wonne, welche Lust” that celebrates her and Konstanza’s impending rescue was light and agile, with her honeyed tone contrasting well with Redpath’s brighter tone.
Blonde’s boyfriend Pedrillo was sung and played for laughs by American tenor Thomas Cilluffo. His drinking song duet with Osmin, “Vivat Bacchus! Bacchus lebe!” was a comic highlight; but there was also a more sensitive performance of “In Mohrenland gefangen war” in which he tries to attract the attention of the two escapees by singing a song under their window that echoes their predicament.
From the Ottoman-influenced martial percussion of the overture of Die Entführung, conductor Evan Rogister controlled the dramatic tempo of the work and internal dynamics of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment with skill and sensitivity. There were some issues with synchronisation between the singers and the orchestra in the first act, which can probably be excused as first-night nerves.
This revival of Die Entführung aus dem Serail is a triumph that on a perfect summer’s evening made for a perfect Glyndebourne experience. Fiona and I were lazy, booking one of the Glyndebourne picnics which was laid out on a table under the trees to the front of the Rose Garden. If you can’t be bothered with cooking or a trip to Waitrose, it’s a good option.
All photos © Glyndebourne Productions Ltd. Photo: Bill Knight
2, 5, 11, 14, 19, 28 August
Glyndebourne
Lewes
East Sussex
United Kingdom
BN8 5UU
Looking for something different? Check out our review of Ariadne auf Naxos, also showing at Glyndebourne
Leave a Reply