SALZBURG, Austria – Next year, 2006, is the big Mozart year – the 250th anniversary of the composer’s birth – but the festival in this town never neglects the local hero. This year, they’re staging three of his operas: “Mitridate,” “Cosi fan tutte,” and “The Magic Flute.” Next year, they’ll stage all 22. That should be the mother of all Mozart blowouts.

For the current “Magic Flute,” they have Riccardo Muti in the pit. The Italian Stallion may have parted with La Scala, but he is wildly appreciated here at the Salzburg Festival. His conducting of the overture on Monday night, however, was not to be appreciated: It was a mess. The best thing about it was that it was the low moment of the evening, out of the way early. For once, the Vienna Philharmonic sounded dry, and sloppy. And Mr. Muti’s tempo was fast – absurdly so. He rushed through the overture roughly. It lacked charm, grace, and sense.

Mr. Muti’s tempos throughout the opera were extra-fast, and this could be annoying. That is a rare complaint from me: I am forever griping that tempos in Mozart – particularly in operas – are too slow. And sometimes Mr. Muti’s briskness was quite welcome: in the tenor aria “Dies Bildnis,” for example, which is often a soupy, sluggish affair.

In any case, Mr. Muti recovered from the overture to give a solid reading. He did not always match orchestra with singer, or singers – but he did not embarrass himself.

Those singers were superb, almost to a man. Seldom will you hear a Mozart opera better sung. Leading the cast as Tamino was the German-Canadian tenor Michael Schade. Several times, I’ve labeled him a Wunderlich for Today, and he did nothing to discourage that bold label on Monday night. One could go on, and on, but let me provide one small detail: In the aforementioned aria, “Dies Bildnis,” the second note is a G (following a shorter B flat).That note is almost always bad: bleated or grabbed or flat or sharp. From Mr. Schade, it was creamily on the money. And that’s how he sang all night long.

I might also add that, in Graham Vick’s production, the tenor wore sneakers. You remember Birgitt Nilsson’s famous quip? What does it take to sing Isolde? A comfortable pair of shoes? Mr. Schade has one in this production.

Singing Pamina was another Mozart – that is, a local hero, the soprano Genia Kuhmeier, Salzburg-born and -bred. She started out the evening imperfectly, with a hard edge at the top of her range, but shone thereafter. Pamina’s aria “Ach, ich fuhl’s” is one of the most difficult in Mozart, and thus one of the most difficult in opera – and Ms. Kuhmeier positively nailed it.

Papageno was an Austrian baritone, Markus Werba, who was a Papageno to his fingertips (feather tips?). And the Sarastro was Salzburg’s traditional Sarastro, the German bass Rene Pape. He first sang the role here in 1991, under George Solti. So good is Mr. Pape, you would not want to turn to anyone else. On Monday night – as on most occasions – he was rich and gleaming (an unusual combination). Never has the aria “In diesen heil’gen Hallen” been more radiant. Besides which, Mr. Pape is expert at communicating Sarastro’s ambiguous nature.

The Queen of the Night was a Finn, Anna-Kristiina Kaappola, who happened to be a blond bombshell. She didn’t really look like anyone’s mother – certainly not Princess Pamina’s. But she dispatched her music neatly, hitting one high F after another, right in the center. Her mental discipline all evening long was exemplary. I might have asked for more volume, but that objection is relatively minor.

There were scads of other good singers as well, in this busy opera, but I will mention only two more: the Russian mezzo Ekaterina Gubanova – one of the Three Ladies – who has a wondrous, dark instrument; and the New Zealander tenor Simon O’Neill – a Knight – who, unlike Ms. Kaappola, gave more volume than he should have. Given the thrilling and gorgeous quality of his voice, however, you couldn’t blame him.

And the production? Ah, yes, the production. Mr. Vick has provided something sweetly goofy – that is the most I can say for it. The opera opens with Tamino in his bedroom, wearing a kind of golf shirt (and those sneakers). He is wrestling with a snake. The bedroom is that of a typical young male: a fish tank, a globe, a surfboard (I think that was a surfboard). Pamina’s picture is actually a poster, and he puts it on his closet door, right where Farrah Fawcett is supposed to go (or whoever the modern Farrah Fawcett is).

Later, we are in a sunflower field, where three doors pop up, and Sendakian animals roam. At one point, a little old lady who looks like Dr. Ruth comes to take Pamina away. And Sarastro’s digs look like an old folks’ home blended with a disco – really. People are always bursting up through a glass floor and doing other bizarre things. As I said before: Ah.

But with singing like this, the production is almost incidental. I had the slightly depressing thought that I would never again hear (for example) “Dies Bildnis” and “In diesen heil’gen Hallen” sung so well. People like to go on about the golden past – I hope they don’t miss the golden present.