After suffering the ghastly production of Don Giovanni by Dmitri Tcherniakov (A/13), it’s a relief to be able to welcome two productions of Die Zauberflöte that are unconventional, respectful and thought-provoking. In the bonus feature of the recording from Baden-Baden, Robert Carsen observes that death is mentioned more than 60 times and that the action includes two suicide attempts. We in the West, he says, ‘aren’t programmed to deal with death’; but Tamino and Pamina face it, and its inevitability, from the outset. Carsen adds that things are not as they seem, starting with Papageno’s remarks to Tamino about the Three Ladies. He develops this idea by making Sarastro and the Queen of the Night allies: the whole thing is a set-up, in other words, for the young couple’s path to enlightenment – or, if you prefer, to maturity.

So, for instance, the Queen stands beside Sarastro, their arms linked, during ‘In diesen heil’gen Hallen’, unseen by Pamina. The Queen and her ladies even participate in the dialogue with Sarastro after the March of the Priests. You could argue that it’s a solution to a non-existent problem, as the apparent reversal of good and evil is not really a difficulty; but it’s an intriguing conceit, even though it doesn’t accommodate the Monostatos question.

Carsen sees the opera as, among other things, a celebration of music. During the Overture, the chorus sits on the four-sided stage surrounding the pit, listening as though charmed like the animals that, sadly, don’t appear later on. Tamino is borne off by the others but, in the first of several death-related images, re emerges from a freshly dug grave. Papageno enters, weighed down with camping gear and playing a melodica (why?); the Queen is young, slim, in a knee-length black dress. And, of the excellent cast, I would single out Ana Durlovski for superb coloratura that is never cause for a moment’s anxiety. Simon Rattle takes the Act 2 quintet too fast for comfort – he should perhaps have taken Karl Böhm’s recording with the same orchestra as a model – and the postlude to ‘Ach, ich fühl’s’ is oddly matter-of-fact; but in general he balances solemnity and lightheartedness very nicely.

David Pountney’s production for the floating stage on the lake at Bregenz is equally memorable. Two caveats. The immense playing area doesn’t translate comfortably to the small screen, and the opera is performed without a break and with a few omissions. Pountney’s thesis is that both Sarastro and the Queen are ‘ailing powers…who will be superseded and made redundant by the new age’. We might not accept his view that Monostatos represents Sarastro’s repressed erotic urges but we are certainly made aware of the priest’s cruelty towards him.

The stage is dominated by three huge horned ‘dragon dogs’; there’s inflatable grass – more like reeds, really; the Three Ladies, voiced elsewhere, are puppets riding mythical beasts; the Three Boys arrive on a swimming turtle; and there are fireworks. Children will love this production. The performances are fine, including a magnificent Queen from – again – Ana Durlovski.