The Other Mozart is one of those rare things: a wonderfully engaging, creative piece of theatre that also sneaks in a history lesson and an insight into a lost female figure, making us think about how many female stories are missing from our past.
Created and written by Sylvia Milo and produced by Little Matchstick Factory and Suzanna Rosenthal Productions, this gem of a play is perfectly structured and deserved the standing ovation.
Sylvia Milo shares the performance duties with Daniela Galli. I saw Milo give a mesmerising performance. The skilful use of the mic allowed their breathy giggles and gentle vocal tones to be heard clearly. Milo captures the character, body and soul: with fluttering movements and wild, high hair designed by Courtney Bednarowski, referencing the era’s style, but also hinting at their inner state. Maria Anna Mozart (known as Nannerl) protected the Mozart family letters and music, and this script has drawn meticulously on them. Nannerl, a musical prodigy who toured with their brother, nicknamed ‘Wolfie’, evokes their loving relationship with silliness and joy. Milo’s characterisation of this family is utterly believable: the Mother’s intense worry that their daughter behaves appropriately and marries well; the Father’s indifference to Nannerl’s talent, mainly focusing upon ‘Wolfie’s genius; the mania of Mozart and later obsession with their wife.
The Other Mozart’s set is a visually stunning dress designed by Magdalena Dąbrowska and Miodrag Guberinic; a huge circle of ruffles and pockets containing the ephemera of Nannerl’s life which they use to tell the story—powder puffing in the air, a fan snapped shut, a miniature harpsichord. It’s strewn with piles of letters that the family exchanged. The centrepiece is the bodice of a 17th-century dress, a skeleton-like cage that ultimately imprisons Nannerl into an unfulfilled life. The final image, as Milo stands, turns, and drags off that enormous skirt as it weighs her down, is a stand-out Fringe moment for me.
The utter frustration of this musical virtuosity simply because they were born female in a time when gender and class defined what behaviour was acceptable is palpable. Their love for music is conjured by the soundscape designed by Nathan Davis and music composed by Nathan Davis and Phyllis Chen—because of course, none of Nannerl’s compositions survived. We hear one female composer’s music from that era, but ultimately it’s the brother’s music that drowns out their voice, literally at one point.
The Other Mozart is an imaginative, absorbing snapshot of a life that should have been celebrated and has been totally overlooked. Go and see this exquisite piece of theatre and you’ll also get to honour their missing legacy.
