The Metropolitan Opera, in an attempt to be innovative, presented a 90-minute, English language version of “Die Zauberfloete” geared toward children last season. But the Amato Opera has been doing this sort of thing for years. This weekend, that most imaginative of all audiences, an auditorium filled with children, had their first enraptured encounter with “The Magic Flute” at the opera house on the Bowery.

Harry Haller, the Steppenwolf, would have felt right at home on Saturday. In the great Hermann Hesse novel, the character wanders into the seedy part of town and discovers a strange little building with a sign out front that reads “Magic Theater — Not For Everyone.” Inside, he undertakes several imaginative journeys, including one during which he meets Mozart.

If the present Met production is the most elaborate in a very long time, the Amato re-creation has to be the least ornate in history. Due to its miniscule size, this inventive troupe has to wring the maximum out of every bit of stage business. The Julie Taymor characters uptown may be fascinating to watch, but the sight of one lonely duck going straight across the tiny stage, shooting gallery style, when Papageno attempts to catch his birds, is simply a whole lot funnier. The judicious cutting allows the players to adopt a broadly humorous approach just right for a young audience.

Of course it helps to have a competent Papageno, and Gerald Kronberg did a fine job as both a singer and an actor. Possessing a secure natural baritone, he sang with great confidence in an easygoing, relaxed style. His sense of comic timing was excellent, and he appeared to relate seamlessly to the children. When he finally showed enough character to earn his glass of wine, it was handed to him from the orchestra pit; no one breaks the fourth wall better than the Amato Opera.

Vocally, the other men were all good. Mark Franko Filipasic was a sweet-voiced and elegant Tamino, while Erik Kroncke portrayed a noble Sarastro, very comfortable in the lower depths of the role. The women were less satisfying, both Claudia Crouse as Pamina and Angel Vail as Papagena struggling mightily with pitch control, although Ms. Vail’s athletic presence in the general slapstick compensated quite a bit for her vocalism.

Two performers deserve special mention. Alice Heatherington was a commanding Queen of the Night who took on Mozart’s most misogynistic vocal writing with supreme courage. Although the high Fs in “Der Hoelle Rache” were just a little beyond her reach, she attacked them head-on without resorting to transposition, and flew through the remainder of this showstopping aria with remarkable aplomb, earning by far the longest ovation of the afternoon. And Ricardo Figueroa was a superb Monostatos, who was not only vocally adroit, but also exhibited a veteran stage presence. His hypnotic dance while under the spell of Papageno’s glockenspiel had several kids physically doubled over with amusement.

In this type of abridged effort, the audience misses a lot, particularly in the music itself. The presence of only some bells, a reverberating keyboard and, of course, a flute, to add ornamentation to the piano score left out much of Mozart’s original colors. All could carp about their favorite section being left on the cutting room floor, but such is the nature of the beast. With what they had to work with, this was a very special performance.

For those who admire “The Magic Flute” primarily for its nobility and ethical instruction, this was probably not the ideal realization. But for those who appreciate a good belly laugh, it was hard to beat. Mozart would have loved it.