A Cozy Cosi

 

Emily Michiko Jensen, Nicole Koh and Jonghyun Park.
Photo by David Allen.

Opera San Jose

Cosi fan tutte

September 14, 2025

Mozart’s battle of the sexes could be considered one of the world’s first (and finest) sitcoms. Opera San Jose stage director Alek Shrader really leans into that idea, creating a cozy production with a perfectly cast set of players.

Shrader’s approach is more whimsical than over-the-top (more Chaplin than Marx Bros.), leading to moments of gentle humor that tickle the frontal cortex as well as the funny bone. At the second-act curtain, an anonymous hand tosses four lemons onstage. Being plastic lemons, they scatter, leaving poor Nicole Koh, playing Despina the housemaid, to pick them up as she sings. My immediate thought was, She has to follow a different route every performance! Which John Cage would have loved.

Koh is also a perfect example of sacrificing vocal beauty for the sake of comedy. We know she’s got great pipes - OSJ patrons know her from her Queen of the Night - but with Despina she spends the evening snarling and whining about her spoiled patrons. Her physical humor is brilliant; at one point she illustrates what the girls should do with their strange Albanian visitors by riding a settee like a bucking bronco.

We are graced yet again with bass-baritone Dale Travis, playing Don Alfonso, the initiator of the wager that begins all this hanky-panky. Travis goes for the doddering prankster look, complete with the twin-peaked Don Pasquale wig. Our Foirdiligi, soprano Emily Michiko Jensen, is fearless in matters both vocal and postural. Between draping herself upside-down from the furniture and lifting the poor tenor onto an ottoman with illicit intent, she attacks the hugely intervalled “Come scoglio” with a dramatic-soprano ferocity.

In contrast, tenor Jonghyun Park plays Ferrando with a vulnerable romanticism, inspiring pangs of sympathy when he’s the first to be betrayed. His performance of the love song to love, “Un aura amarosa,” was a treasure of simple elegance and tonal purity.

Baritone Ricardo Jose Rivera gets the most out of Guglielmo’s football-quarterback smugness, wrestling with the Bro Code for perhaps five seconds before putting the moves on his Best Friend’s Girl. Later, he mercilessly flaunts his victory before Ferrando. (Don’t worry - he’ll get his.)

Mezzo Joanne Evans is like the magic elixir that makes everyone else look good. She and Jensen both have magnificent stage faces; Evans is best at Dorabella’s look of scandalized-yet-aroused. Her voice shines during her duets with Fiordiligi, notably the closing passages of “Ah, guarda sorella,” which produced numerous tinglings of the spine.

One of the more memorable orchestral moments came soon after in “Soave sia il vento,” the wavering strings tone-painting a sunrise over the ocean. This reflected the overall approach of Joseph Marcheso and his troops, who played with a deftly light touch. I am a connoisseur of recitative, and was perfectly seated to watch both sides of the conversations between harpsichordist Veronika Agranov-Dafoe and her singers.

The production design was classic and lovely, from Steven C. Kemp’s graceful Italian walls to Elizabeth Poindexter’s crisp period costumes (especially Ferrando and Guglielmo’s military uniforms). I also enjoyed the perfectly spheroid lemon trees, which multiplied as the evening progressed.

OSJ is giving its patrons a say in how the opera ends, through an online voting process. It’s really just a matter of pairing up folks for the final number, and doesn’t affect the score. But it is kind of fun.

Through Sept. 28, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215, operasj.org, 408/437-4450.

Michael J. Vaughn is opera critic for the Palo Alto Weekly and the author of 30 novels. His recent Punks for the Opera is available at Amazon.com.

A Lively, Entertaining Zorro in San Jose

 

Eugene Brancoveanu as Moncada, Xavier Prado
as Zorro. Photo by David Allen.

Opera San Jose

Hector Armienta’s Zorro

April 19, 2025

I spent the afternoon protesting the oppression of poor brown people in America. I spent the evening watching an opera about the oppression of poor brown people in America. That’s how very, sadly topical is Hector Armienta’s Zorro. It’s also a very entertaining and action-packed show, but the currency of its central message makes it especially relevant.

Based on John McCulley’s 1919 novel and a stream of follow-up variations, the story centers on Diego de la Vega, an Alta California kid who returns from his education in Spain to his hometown, Pueblo de Los Angeles. Since his father’s death, the city has fallen under the rule of Moncada, a cruel mayor who freely tortures everyone but the landed Spanish gentry.

Armiento, who also wrote the libretto, develops his first act at a leisurely pace, but there’s a certain pleasure in watching him spread unrecquited love all over the city like landmines. Diego ended a love affair with Carlota just before her powerful family backed Moncada’s ascension. Diego, meanwhile, has the hots for childhood friend Ana Maria, but she’s wholly occupied with saving the region’s poor and needy citizens. Moncada, meanwhile, was Diego’s university pal, but their friendship ended badly and he sees Carlota as an opportunity for a juicy vengeance.

Driven by Ana Maria’s encouragement and his late father’s devotion to justice, Diego crashes a masquerade party in the classic black hat, mask and cape and takes on Moncada’s soldiers, leaving a couple of them with the classic Z-shaped wound. And a legend is born.

Armienta is an unapologetic Romantic in the Puccini tradition. He handles dialogue in the through-composed style of the later Puccini, but when it comes to set pieces, he dips into the rich Latin/Mexican tradition, drawing from mariachi, flamenco and corrido music. It’s an intriguing blend. Compositionally, he reaches his peak with the Act I quartet, the four principals singing their desires and conflicts over an incredibly lush outpouring from the orchestra (led by Jorge Parodi). This deft handling of multiple voices reminded me of another Italian composer, Verdi.

Tenor Xavier Prado brings a charming underdog quality to Diego, full of swagger but also a self-questioning vulnerability. His middle range began a bit covered, but above the staff his tone rang like a bell. He also excelled in the quiet passages, notably in the Act 2 love duet with soprano Maria Brea as Ana Maria. And he performed a steamy flamenco dance with Brea, this time in his guise as Zorro.

Mezzo Melisa Bonetti Luna uses Carlota’s Act 2 aria to deliver a meaty psychological dilemma: does one respond to rejection with the obvious vengeance, or is it better to wish the object of your affections a happy life? Her performance in this piece was passionate and moving.

Baritone Eugene Brancoveanu is eminently fierce and hissable as Moncada, but also sings so beautifully that it’s hard not to enjoy it. His impatience with his oafish Sergeant Gomez (bass-baritone Jesus Vicente Murillo) lends a touch of ‘30s madcap comedy. Don’t feel bad for Gomez, however. He ends up with the beautiful housemaid Luisa, leading to the most relatable romance in the opera. Luisa sees Gomez as a hero, and Gomez has no idea why. Soprano Arianna Rodriguez sings Luisa with the most dazzling voice in the cast, diamond-like in its brilliance.

The production is performed in alternating phrases of English and Spanish. I would have preferred all Spanish - it being the more singable language - but I can see where Spanglish is a distinctly California phenomenon. I wondered, in fact, if this was confusing to the singers, but they didn’t show any flubs. Another little “code-switch” was one of the peasant mothers threatening a soldier with her shoe, which is a long-standing Mexican/Chicano joke.

I really enjoyed the colorful, authentic costumes of designer Ulises Alcala, particularly the sharp colonial uniforms. Liliana Duque-Pineiro’s scenic design also delivered that authenticity, adobe surfaces with rough-hewn timbers. Her sets were like little puzzle boxes, endlessly shifting. Slide an altar out of the wall, drop down a crucifix and tada! Villa to chapel in seconds. (That air of authenticity ran through the production, which is such a welcome distinction from the sometimes-hokey stereotypes of Hollywood Zorros.)

The swordfighting was so intricate and edgy, I really did worry that someone was going to get hurt. Kudos to the cast, stage director David Radames Toro and fight choreographer Dave Maier.

Through May 4, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215. 408/437-4450. operasj.org. OSJ’s ‘25-’26 season will include Cosi fan tutte (Sept. 14-28), Madama Butterfly (Nov. 16-30), Cavelleria Rusticana and Pagliacci (Feb. 15-March 1) and La Traviata (April 19-May 3).

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of 30 novels. His latest, I Look for You in the Crowd, is available at Amazon. 

The Hypnotizing Case of Bluebeard's Castle

 Opera San Jose

Bartok: Bluebeard’s Castle

February 15, 2025

Seeing Bartok’s 1918 one-act is not just a rare opportunity, it’s a mesmerizing one. It would be difficult to experience this work without having the furniture in one’s mind fully rearranged.

Taken from a French legend told by Charles Perrault, Bela Belazs’s libretto carries a fairly discursive pattern. In her desire to marry the mysterious bad boy next door, Judith (Maria Natale) comes to his castle and is led through a series of seven doors, each revealing an aspect of its owner’s life, the last of these completely verboten.

The unsettling mood is set up immediately by Steven C. Kemp’s gorgeous gothic set, two high stone walls outfitted with doors of different shapes and colors and an array of grand mismatched chandeliers. The seventh door stands at the top of a set of stairs, carved and golden.

Bluebeard himself (Zachary Nelson) opens with a spoken prologue, which in itself is an unsettling opening for an audience primed for singing. Our heroine arrives in a sexy sheer bridal outfit that looks a little Taylor Swiftian (Caitlin Cisek, costume designer).

The riddles begin, and one by one the doors are opened: a torture chamber, a store of bloody weaponry. A fairly creepy beginning, but it’s also hard to decipher the back-and-forth between bride and groom. Is this foreplay, or is this a cat playing with a mouse before killing it? 

This perilous little tennis match is represented in the music, as well. Bluebeard, often seated, sings plainy and in the pentatonic mode, often repeating the phrase “Are you frightened?” Judith moves restlessly about the chamber as she quizzes her suitor, singing in richer modalities inspired by Debussy. She also applies trickier rhythms, triplets and shifting signatures taken from Transylvanian folk music.

Joseph Marcheso and his orchestra do an amazing job of delivering this demanding score. The proceedings reach a grand climax with the revelation of Bluebeard’s expansive landholdings, represented by a burst into C major and the sublime rumbling of the California Theater’s Wurlitzer organ, played by Veronika Agranov-Dafoe.

Nelson sings Bluebeard with a calm presence and a rich baritone, providing the possibility for both menace and kindness. Soprano Natale does a superb job of exploring Judith’s emotions, giving the tale its necessary dramatic throughline.

Stage director Shawna Lucey leans into the story’s feminist implications, underlining the power plays between authoritarian male and disadvantaged female - but I would add a further interpretation. Judith is horrified at the violence revealed by the first two doors, but her disgust lessens as she sees the gold, gardens and lands that came as a result. And there’s your modern oligarchy.

Lighting designer Michael Clark achieved some innovative effects with the door openings, particularly the shimmering of Bluebeard’s treasures. There’s a bit of license taken with the ending, but the change is actually much closer to Perrault’s original story.

Through March 2, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215, operasj.org, 408/437-4450. In English with English and Spanish supertitles.

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of thirty novels, including his latest, I Look for You in the Crowd, available at Amazon.com.

Image: Maria Natale as Judith, Zachary Nelson as Bluebeard. Photo by David Allen.

A Classic Boheme

Philip Skinner as Alcindoro, Kearstin Piper Brown as Mimi,
and Melissa Sondhi as Musetta. Photo by David Allen.

Opera San Jose

La Boheme

November 16, 2024

One thing that sets La Boheme apart is that its story is constructed from the lives of everyday people, people that could be your neighbors (in another century). That said, it’s really important to get the details right, and that’s precisely what OSJ’s current production does. Under stage director Michelle Cuizon, the opening night cast delivered a beautifully crafted performance, unleashing the emotional depths of one of opera’s most emotional creations.

The sense of ensemble was immediately apparent, with the four roommates of the Paris garret. The central duo of painter Marcello and poet Rodolfo were joined by the exuberant musician Schaunard (the affable, animated Jesus Vicente Murillo) and the more sincere, serious presence of the philosopher Colline (Younggwang Park). Another characteristic of Ilica and Giacosa’s libretto is that, as in real life, tragedy and merriment exist side-by-side, and so one of the most ultimately tragic operas actually contains a lot of fine comedy. This appears in the first act as the four roomies connive their landlord Benoit (the excellent Philip Skinner) out of the rent.

Once his friends have departed for Cafe Momus, Rodolfo receives a surprise, his upstairs neighbor Mimi, and thus begins the most musically astounding coffee date in history. WooYoung Yoon’s astounding lirico spinto tenor fills up the hall in the arch-like climaxes of “Che gelida manina.” He then says, Well that’s enough about me, how about you? Kearstin Piper Brown’s soprano is not quite as strong, but in “Mi chiamano Mimi” she displays a divine sense of phrasing, and her top notes are surprisingly powerful, enough to elicit tears as Mimi talks of being the first to see the Parisian sunset from her attic apartment.

When the roommates interrupt this flirtation (as guy friends do), they do it by clomping into the actual theater and addressing Rodolfo over the orchestra pit. It’s a delightful touch.

The cafe scene is about the best I’ve ever witnessed, filled with rowdy villagers and street performers. The children’s chorus is especially energetic as they greet the toymaker Parpignol (Eric Mellum), who is dressed in a dazzling harlequin outfit divided into contrasting quarters (costume designer Alina Bokovikova). Soprano Melissa Sondhi rolls in like a human tornado as Musetta, and charms everyone with the famous Waltz before ditching her patron Alcindoro (played as a human cartoon by Philip Skinner) and returning to her lover Marcello. The moment is a joyous, festive bedlam, complete with French flags.

The contrast of happy and sad continues with the tollgate scene, featuring the most charming of Kim A. Tolman’s sets, and real fake snow! The way that Puccini constructs the ultimate quartet - Mimi and Rodolfo reconfirming their love, Musetta and Marcello blowing theirs up in pugilistic style - is yet another sign of the astounding things that Puccini would achieve after Boheme.

There’s a definite type for Marcello, and baritone Kidon Choi fits it to a T: a bullish big brother, capable of great fits of temper as well as moving moments of compassion. Yet more touching details appear in Marcello and Rodolfo’s “lonely bachelors” duet, “Ah, Mimi, tu piu non torni.” At the end, Marcello reveals his new portrait of Musetta, Rodolfo displays the bonnet he bought for Mimi, and they exchange an embrace worthy of Joey and Chandler from Friends. Then they say “Ew!” and run quickly from their sincerity. A pure guy move.

With all these little touches piling up, the fourth act is even sadder than usual. Brown’s musical reminscences tread the fine line between good singing and also being deathly ill. The setup of the final tragedy is always excruciating, the news passed from one friend to another until it finally reaches Rodolfo. Yoon’s reaction is like a man possessed. As my friend Guitar George said, “Once I heard that voice of his, I knew that final ‘Mimi!’ was going to be heartbreaking.”

Through December 1, California Theater, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215. 408/437-4450. www.operasj.org Mikayla Sager will sing Mimi 11/22 and 11/30.

Michael J. Vaughn is a forty-year opera critic and author of 29 novels. His latest, Punks for the Opera, is available at Amazon.com

Fun With Emojis!

Emojiland

Keith Harrison Dworkin, Laura Schein

3Below Theaters

October 18, 2024

At first, the idea of a musical starring emojis seems a little loopy. At second thought, however, it seems kind of perfect. For one thing, everyone in the audience has a phone and can relate. For another, being little repositories of our lives, those phones easily serve as metaphors for real life. Throw in a talented, uber-energetic cast - as 3Below surely has - and you’ve got a brilliantly entertaining show with sneaky profundities at every corner.

At first, the story centers on a seemingly ideal romance between Smize (smiley face, smiley eyes) and Sunny (sunglasses emoji), played by Emily Goes and Frankie Mulcahy. Smize is having a bit of a personal crisis, brough on by having to be so damn smiley all the time (I’m sure customer service workers can relate). Meanwhile, Sunny, being a guy who always wears sunglasses, is predictably cheating, with Kissy Face (Osher Fine, playing a girl who’s always kissing).

In the larger picture, Emojiland (basically, the world inside a single phone) is readying for a system update. The Princess (Aeriol Ascher) conspires with Person in Business Suit Levitating (F. James Raasch) to amass more power for herself, but ends up instead with a co-monarch, The Prince (James Creer).

Another notable addition is Nerd Face (Tuanminh Albert Do), a bespectacled scientist who receives the predictable bullying from the cool kid, Sunny, and is scapegoated as an unwanted migrant (sound familiar?). He’s befriended by another outsider, Skull (Raasch), who talks him into devising a virus so he can delete himself. Instead, Skull turns the virus onto the entire phone, and there we have our major crisis. (Co-creator Laura Schein, who attended the performance, explained that not only was the show created before the pandemic, its first Off-Broadway run was abruptly ended by same.)

The show demands an extreme level of commitment, and the 3Below cast delivers in spades, along with generous side servings of talent. As Nerd Face, Do speaks in long runs of polysyllabic words, performs some of the more challenging songs (“Zeros and Ones,” “Cross My Bones”), delivers an amusing level of social obliviousness, and even throws in some capoeira moves. Raasch, playing both villains, navigates a hoverboard while doing an impression of a certain orange-colored politician.

In “Princess is a Bitch,” Ascher performs a rap with a convincing Iggy Azalea lilt while negotiating a rather steep set of steps. Mulcahy delivers a rippin’ rap break later in “Firewall Ball.” James Creer is just a freakin’ delight anytime he sets foot on stage, playing Prince as the life of the emoji party. BrieAnne Alisa Martin and Osher Fine contribute a touching side plot about two emojis, Construction Worker and Police Officer, whose romance is ended by politics (sound familiar?). Goes, meanwhile, provides a solid, empathetic center for all this ruckus.

The vocal work under Stephen Guggenheim’s musical direction was wonderful, tackling a score that balances between pop music genres and Broadway technique. The costumes - solid primary colored outfits topped with big fake plastic wigs - gave the show a delightful cartoon feel. The projection work was dazzling, almost a show unto itself, especially as the virus mucks everything up. And Jon Gourdine’s choreography was endlessly inventive.

Through Nov. 24, 3Below Theaters, 288 S. Second Street, San Jose. $25-$75. 408/404-7711, #belowtheaters.com

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year critic and author of 29 novels. His latest, Punks for the Opera, is available at Amazon.com

A Stunning, Timely Handmaid's Tale

Irene Roberts and Simone McIntosh as Offreds present and past.
Photo by Cory Weaver/San Francisco Opera.

San Francisco Opera

The Handmaid’s Tale

Paul Ruders and Paul Bentley

September 17, 2024

SFO could not have picked a better time to give this 2000 work its West Coast premiere, but in many ways Ruders’ treatment of Margaret Atwood’s ever-topical story seems a little old-fashioned. The music is muscular, modernist and bombastic, more 20th century than 21st, and delivers the story in a stunning package that accentuates the sense of alarm that we should all feel.

The performance opens in a soaring institutional space that resembles an airplane hangar, where Aunt Lydia (soprano Sarah Cambidge) is delivering fierce instructions to her specialized charges. In the face of a fertility crisis, these red-clad ladies have been chosen by the new theocracy of Gilead to move in with powerful families and bear their children, and to do so (cringe) the old-fashioned way. It’s clear from Lydia’s commands that the Christian nationalists have taken power. The size of this opening scene gives Ruders the chance to write chorally, and to introduce an impressive military motif with religious overtones (a tubular bell) to confirm the new marriage of government and church. The sound is immediately huge and startling, delivering thrillingly large crescendos and crackling, exotic percussion. At points, the response felt almost primal.

The irony here is that Atwood’s novel derived its narrative power from telling an intimate story. This takes precedence once Offred (mezzo Irene Roberts) has moved in with the Commander (bass John Relyea) and his wife, a former evangelical singing star named Serena Joy (mezzo Lindsay Ammann). Despite the size and power of his orchestrations, Ruders leaves space for long, plaintive vocal lines that spell out the tremendous conflicts of the situation. (The singing is word-obliterating operatic, so keep an eye on those supertitles.)

The story is also aided by a devilishly clever device for portraying the time before the Gilead takeover. A double (mezzo Simone McIntosh) plays Offred’s younger self, negotiating the increasing misogyny of the new regime with her husband Luke (tenor Christopher Oglesby) and their five-year-old daughter (Valerie Corrales). Set designer Chloe Lamford uses a stage-wide glass framework to separate past and present; at times, one may see past characters pantomiming actions that reflect on what the current characters are singing about upstage. The set also features a fearsome Eye of Gilead (similar to the eye on our one-dollar bills), splayed across the background to keep the peasants in tow.

Roberts as Offred (Of Fred, in case you wondered) does a masterful job with an enormous workload, and manages to keep Ruders’ sustenatos relatable and human. The acting demands are high, on both her and McIntosh’s past Offred, and they truly succeed in keeping this enormous, whirling performance focused on its protagonist. Roberts also has to deal with some very tricky sexual moments, which manage to maintain a fine balance of cringeworthy-yet-meaningful (with the help of an intimacy coordinator, Maya Herbsman).

Soprano Rhoslyn Jones gives a moving performance as Offred’s friend Ofglen, who introduces her to a secret resistance movement. Another standout is soprano Katrina Galka as Janine, a handmaid who keeps flashing back to her previous personality as waitress till she finally suffers a very theatrical breakdown. Another shot of empathy goes to soprano Caroline Corrales as Moira, Offred’s past and present friend, who fights the regime tooth and nail and somehow survives.

Director John Fulljames does an excellent job of setting his troops into one striking tableau after another (with the help of Christina Cunningham’s work on the familiar Handmaid costumes). The most unsettling of these are regular visitations to the handmaids’ recently executed colleagues, and one hanging that’s performed live. (I know they’ve got safety harnesses, but it was still pretty unsettling to watch.)

Conductor Karen Kamensek manages a humongous score, which includes digital effects and exotic percussion such as crotales, an anvil and a sizzle strip. In the tradition of late twentieth century works, the orchestra is absolutely the co-star, and delivers some spine-chilling moments.

My companion, the Punk Princess, expressed the concern that someone not familiar with this story might find the opera confusing, and I’d have to agree. I also think that the second act places too much emphasis on Offred’s interior life and sacrifices a few chances for suspense and action. Perhaps the most intriguing moments in the production come from the Commander and his wife, who show moments of humanity despite the strictures of their government (the Commander, for his part, seems amusingly attached to Scrabble).

Still and all, these are nitpicks, and I would encourage anyone to see this mesmerizing production. It will disturb you in precisely the way that great art is meant to, especially in a time when too many religious types seem hell-bent on stripping away female rights. And though I am very fond of the story-first direction that opera has taken in recent years, I think this story was a great match for good old modernist rabble-rousing.

Through October 1 at War Memorial Opera House, 305 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco. $28-$426, 415/864-3330, sfopera.com.

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and author of 29 novels, including his most recent, Punks for the Opera, which includes scenes at the War Memorial Opera House. All of his titles may be found at Amazon.

A Luminous Zauberflote

 

Emily Misch as the Queen of the Night.
Photo by Kristen Loken.

Opera San Jose

The Magic Flute

September 14, 2024

Opera San Jose’s season-opener is a surprisingly traditional production of Mozart’s famed singspiel with a beautifully light touch. Under the guidance of Brad Dalton and 19-year-old conductor Alma Deutscher, the production illuminates the opera’s ever-shifting secrets and manages to provide a lot of amusement along the way. The feeling of openness and clarity is furthered still more by the decision to use English for the dialogues.

The overture pantomime places the spoiled Prince Tamino in front of a proscenium-within-a-proscenium. He falls asleep before a pack of kids playing with a toy dragon and before you know it he’s taking an Oz-like trip into the action, being chased down by a full-size (puppet) dragon. When the birdcatcher Papageno falsely takes credit for slaying the dragon, the Three Ladies attach a padlock to his mouth. When one of the ladies suggested that all liars should have to wear such devices, the audience responded with an unusual applause. (Now what current event, I ask innocently, could inspire such a response?)

Sergio Gonzalez played Tamino with an enjoyably wry humor and a warm lyric tenor (with just a dram of spinto). I was surprised to learn afterward that he was covering the role, so add an extra “Bravo!” to that.

Gonzalez had a high-quality partner in baritone Ricardo Jose Rivera, who played a note-perfect Figaro in last spring’s Barber of Seville. Applying that same boisterous tone and excellent comic timing to Papageno is a sure-fire winner, and also accentuates Mozart’s great flair for blue-collar heroes: (The Marriage of) Figaro, Papageno, and Leporello. In any case, Papageno is clearly the most relatable character on stage, honest enough to declare himself a lazy hedonist and yet ennobled by his yearning for a life’s partner.

Soprano Melissa Sondhi is well-suited to the role of Pamina, notably in the heartbreaking aria “Ach, ich fuhl’s,” delivered in mournful tones after she mistakes Tamino’s vow of silence for rejection. Sondhi’s delivery has a lovely plaintive quality that inspires oodles of sympathy.

As Papagena, soprano Nicole Koh is a pure delight. In her early appearances, she forgoes the usual old-age mask and portrays the character’s pretended old age by hiding her face in a cloak and using a cackly voice and old-lady gestures to great effect. Her eventual unveiling as a babe, the answer to Papageno’s prayers, turns the stuttering pa-pa-pa duet into a boisterous, joyful party.

But I know what all you operaphiles are thinking: What of the Queen of the Night? Soprano Emily Misch has the sexy wicked mom thing down to a T: statuesque, great voice, very tall wig. Her rendition of Die Holle Rache is just the vengeful showstopper it’s supposed to be, with a beautifully light touch on the immortal staccatos.

Another fascinating presence is tenor Nicolas Vasquez-Gerst, who brings a certain Tim Burton cartoonishness to Monostatos. He’s terribly fun to watch, and even manages to inspire a little sympathy. (It’s not easy being a Moor, or a dungeonmaster.)

Bass-baritone Philip Skinner brings a sardonic dignity to the Speaker (the Temple’s doorman). I feel bad for bass Younggwang Park, who has to play the ever-stoic Sarastro in such a dry fashion.

Watching former prodigy Alma Deutscher at the podium is an entertainment unto itself. Her conducting is elegant and intimate, more along the lines of a choral conductor than the larger gestures of orchestral conductors. She uses a baton in her right hand to keep the beat while using the left hand to sculpt dynamics and signal points of emphasis. All this while, she mouths almost every word of the text to her singers. For those who cannot chew gum and walk at the same time, its fascinating to imagine the workings of a brain that can manage all this multi-tasking. The orchestra responded to this treatment beautifully, revealing all the small treasures of a masterful score.

Ryan McGettigan’s set is unapologetically theatrical, in a silent-movie kind of way, using flyaway flats to swap out rocks and clouds in Act 1. The temple scenes make use of fluorescent wires and a backlit pyramid screen to create stark, beautiful images. The Act 1 background nightscape featured a full moon that slid away to enable the Queen’s entrance (yes, the Queen of the Night entered through the moon). Accompanied by stage smoke and a stunning black and blue gown (costume designer Alyssa Oania), it was a pure rock-star moment.

The accoutrements included some playful dance scenes from the youth of the Antara Asthaayi ensemble (and how cool is it that OSJ has its own community of Indian dancers?).

In the final summation, I have to admit that I have been trying to figure out Schikaneder and Mozart’s labyrinthine plot for more than half my life. With this production, I feel like I got a little bit closer. It could be that Die Zauberflote falls into the same category as Cosi fan tutte. There are no easy answers, and the audience is free to have their own opinions. Where Brad Dalton sees (in his director’s notes) a Mason-like temple enabling a selfish Prince to become a humble ruler, I see a cult that has kidnapped a queen’s daughter and driven her mother to violent madness. Meanwhile, the temple - an overtly patriarchal institution - allows a woman, Pamina, to undergo the initiation rituals alongside her betrothed, a remarkably progressive move. Or perhaps we should just link The Flute to another enigma, Hamlet. You will never, ever figure it out, but it’s certainly fun to try.

Through Sept. 29, California Theatre, 345 S. First Street, San Jose. $58-$215, operasj.org, 408/437-4450.

Michael J. Vaughn is a 40-year opera critic and the author of 29 novels, including Punks for the Opera and Mermaids’ Tears, available at Amazon.