Longborough's magical new Flute adds laughter and derring-do to the expected musical joy

With the Longborough Festival Opera's latest production of The Magic Flute, Mozart's masonic-flavoured tale of love, enlightenment and noble quests becomes the opera I've seen more often on stage than any other.

I've written here about grand pageantry at the Royal Opera House, the poignancy of a dying art at the Salzburg Marionette Theatre, and the budget-defying quality of Longborough's last production of Flute five years ago. In all of those experiences, this is the first time my instinctive impression was: fun. Followed by comic, joyous and magical.

This is a production of Flute that deserves to run and run in revivals. If I wanted to introduce children to opera, I'd want them to see this one. It was a rollicking, lighthearted frolic of an evening thanks to director Thomas Guthrie's introduction of fairy tale imagery, witty banter in the spoken bits and a lively pacing to counter the sometimes ponderous dramas in Sarastro's temple.

As director Anthony Negus fired up the orchestra to work his usual magic ... leaving our spines tingling and in no doubt this is one of the most beautiful operatic overtures ever written ... we saw a young boy in his sickbed reading a book. As the overture ends and the action begins, the child remains on stage as our hero Tamino enters chased by the giant serpent. Both are large puppets dynamically moved by cast members in black.

Opinions on this opening split our group, with at least one person just not getting the point. I loved it. Granted, it was a bit derivative: the kid in bed immediately reminded me of Fred Savage and the set up in The Princess Bride, and if you saw any of the National Theatre's attempts to bring His Dark Materials to life in 2004 you'd seen the puppets. It was perhaps because both of those references were so familiar to me that I instantly got it: we were entering the realm of fairy tale, and the puppets were our transition into the fantasy. (Luckily, just as they risked getting irritating Julian Hubbard threw off his cloak, lost the puppet and sprang to life as a Tamino that had not only a blockbuster voice, but the broad, handsome bearing of an action hero.)

As with Longborough's last version of Flute, the singing remained in the original German while the dialogue came out in English. This time, however, the comedy was memorable. This had much to do with Grant Doyle's Papageno, played as a laddish but sweet Australian chancer. His double act with Hubbard's Tamino was reminiscent of the wise-cracking bromances that provide the comic relief in so many American crime dramas.

The most memorable voice of the night emerged from Jihoon Kim as Sarastro ... a powerful, rich sound almost incomprehensible coming out of the slight, young Korean. As a group, our jaws dropped and we gazed at each other in amazement within seconds of his first notes. (Our only complaint: some hair-and-make-up magic would have helped. He looked too young for the role.)

These memorable performances somewhat upstaged the women, who all delivered to top opera house-quality. The characterisation amongst them was better in this production than any seen: Beate Mordal's Pamina gave us heartbreak with vivid angst, while when Hanna Dahlenburg delivered the Queen of the Night's most famous aria with a crazed intensity and a bit of physical abuse towards her daughter that helped us to instantly understand why she's actually the villain.

We probably also benefitted from attending on the last night of the run, when any kinks had been worked out of the production and everyone had fully hit their stride. As faithful supporters of the LFO we ended up at the cast wrap party, where an exultant team clearly realised ... and celebrated ... just how good they had been.

Outside, the Flute seemed to be working a different kind of magic. A dark and stormy one. It was our second time seeing it at Longborough, and the second time we've had truly dreadful weather there. Fortunately, picnicking in all weathers ... even in formal wear ... is part of the English summer tradition. We managed to get the tent up in a lull in the rain, establishing a cozy bolt-hole for a four-course supper consumed before, during and after the main event.

There's no such thing as bad weather; only inappropriate picnic kit. We Bencards know the Magic Flute. And we also know how to do elegant dining in a field in a downpour. We'd happily endure that trial to see Flute once again at some future Longborough. But no new productions, please. Revive this one again and again.