The Faber Pocket Guide to Opera (14 page)

Many productions have opted for a baroque setting, inspired by the paintings of Tiepolo.
More imagination was shown at Glyndebourne, where Nicholas Hytner, with the help of brilliant design by David Fielding, found a stylized way of suggesting the setting of Imperial Rome without resorting to either archaeological pedantry or Hollywood kitsch.
Other directors have seemed bored with the surface of the piece and use it as a vehicle for extreme deconstructive interpretation – for example, the Salzburg production by Karl-Ernst and Ursel Herrmann in which all sorts of obscure (if not downright pretentious) symbolism involving water-melon and Cinderella’s stray slipper was introduced in order to suggest neuroses and contradictions behind the libretto’s confidently black-and-white moral façade.

Recordings

CD: Janet Baker (Vitellia); Colin Davis (cond.).
Philips 422 5442

Julia Varady (Vitellia); John Eliot Gardiner (cond.). Archiv 431 806 2AH2.
Period instruments

Video: Philip Langridge (Tito); Andrew Davis (cond.).
Glyndebourne production.
Warner 0792013

Die
Zauberflöte
(
Th Magic Flute
)

Two acts. First performed Vienna, 1791.

Libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder

Composed not for an opera house but for Schikaneder’s popular suburban vaudeville theatre, this is one of Mozart’s very last works, written at a time when he was desperate for money.
Its libretto, drawn from a bewildering variety of sources, mixes elements of pantomime, farce, spoken dialogue and ‘special effect’ scenes with the mystical Masonic philosophy to which Mozart subscribed, and, starting with the three solemn chords which open the Overture, the opera contains many references to the rituals and symbolism of the sect, as well as the contemporary debate among its members over the admission of women.

It has been suggested that the Queen of the Night represents the reactionary Empress Maria Theresa and Tamino her more enlightened son Josef II, but the plot remains a splendid muddle which defies all attempts to interpret it as a coherent allegory.
One theory is that, for some reason, the moral natures of Sarastro and the Queen of the Night were reversed half-way through the writing of the libretto – how else can one explain that it is the evil Queen of the Night who controls the benevolent magic of the flute and the Three Boys, or Sarastro’s employment of a rogue like Monostatos?

Plot

Prince Tamino, wandering far from home, is rescued from a monster by Three Ladies, though the comically cowardly birdcatcher Papageno tries to take the credit.
Their mistress, the Queen of the Night, asks Tamino to rescue her beautiful daughter Pamina from the clutches of her rival Sarastro.
To help him in his quest, Tamino is given a magic flute.
Three Boys, also possessed of supernatural powers, show him the way, and he sets off together with Papageno, who is given some magic bells.

In Sarastro’s domain, Pamina suffers from the lascivious attentions of her guard, the moor Monostatos.
Papageno sneaks in and assures her that help is on its way.
Meanwhile, Tamino encounters a priest at the gateway to the temple.
Tamino questions him, and discovers that Sarastro is far from the wicked tyrant described by the Queen of the Night: in fact, he is the leader of a new order dedicated to the virtues of Wisdom, Reason and Nature.
It is the Queen of the Night who is the villain, and Sarastro is only protecting Pamina from her evil intentions.
Tamino enters the temple, playing the magic flute.
As they run away from Monostatos, Papageno and Pamina are drawn to the sound.
Papageno’s magic bells set everyone dancing.
Tamino and Pamina fall instantly in love, and are brought before Sarastro.
Sarastro orders Monostatos to be punished and invites Tamino and Pamina to submit to the ceremonial trials which precede initiation into his order.

Tamino and Papageno are taken away in preparation for the trials.
They resist the wiles of the Three Ladies, who appear in their cell and attempt to lure them back to the Queen of the Night’s cause.
Meanwhile, Pamina is visited by her mother, who commands her to kill Sarastro.
Monostatos continues to threaten Pamina, until Sarastro banishes him.

As part of their trial, Tamino and Papageno are told to keep silent.
Papageno, an incorrigible chatterbox, finds the injunction impossible to keep.
An old hag appears and claims to be his sweetheart.
At first he mocks her, but is thrilled when she is transformed into the lovely Papagena, the mate he has always longed for.
As part of his trial, she is then whisked away from him.

Driven mad by Tamino’s refusal to speak to her, Pamina contemplates suicide.
But the Three Boys lead her to Tamino and, with the help of the magic flute, they endure the trial by fire and water together, emerging from it triumphant.
Now it is Papageno’s turn to despair: he will hang himself if he cannot have his Papagena.
As he is about to fasten the noose, the Three Boys intervene and Papageno is finally united with
Papagena.
The power of the Queen of the Night is defeated, and Pamina and Tamino are welcomed into Sarastro’s order.

What to listen for

A score of extraordinary contrasts, embracing Papageno’s immediately catchy hit-tunes and the solemn dignity of Tamino’s Gluck-influenced dialogue with the old priest who guards the temple entrance.
Yet aside from the flamboyantly operatic nature of the music for the Three Ladies and the Queen of the Night, it is its quality of simplicity which is most striking (compare the sophistication of
Così
fan
tutte
or the grandeur of
La
Clemenza
di
Tito,
both of them close in date of composition).
This can partly be explained by the fact that
Zauberflöte
was written for a theatre, not an opera house, and Mozart tailored the music to the modest vocal abilities of some of the original cast – Schikaneder, who played Papageno, was an actor by profession rather than a singer, hence the musical simplicity of the role; Pamina was the seventeen-year-old Anna Gottlieb, who had also sung Barbarina in the first performance of
Le
Nozze
di
Figaro.
It is also worth noting that the tenor who sang Tamino was an accomplished flute player (nowadays his music is usually played from the pit, where Papageno’s magic bells are also rendered by a glockenspiel).

Pamina’s Act II aria, ‘Ach, ich fühl’s’, is a test of both singer and conductor, inasmuch as its very slow tempo can easily drag beyond the point at which the soprano can maintain sufficient breath to phrase it.
The role of the Queen of the Night, with its dazzling coloratura and celebrated top Fs, is strongly contrasted with that of her antagonist Sarastro, whose calmly authoritative and godlike arias feature low Fs.
Not all the music is of the highest quality, and there are miscalculations, particularly towards the end of the opera, where there’s too much of Papageno, the music for flute, brass and timpani which accompanies Tamino and Pamina’s final ordeal scarcely suggests anything very terrifying, and the closing chorus seems like a perfunctory full stop rather than a genuine
climax.
But this is a bran-tub of an opera, with something for everyone, generous in its spirit and irresistible in its charm.

In performance

For all its fun and innocence,
Die
Zauberflöte
is not easy to stage convincingly.
As a
Singspiel,
it contains long stretches of spoken dialogue, something which opera singers are not generally accomplished at delivering.
Some productions cut this element drastically; others have attempted to liven it up with racily idiomatic modern translation and opportunities for Papageno to ad lib.
But balancing the pantomime gags with the sublime seriousness of Sarastro’s temple and Tamino’s quest for truth is tricky.
One version which managed to generate both childlike wonder and dramatic tension is Ingmar Bergman’s 1975 film‚ which begins in a theatre full of attentive children but gradually moves out into darker, more adult territory.
Staged productions which have succeeded more conventionally include Nicholas Hytner’s at ENO and John Cox’s, designed by David Hockney, and seen at Glyndebourne and the Met.

Several directors, notably Peter Sellars in his controversial Glyndebourne production (set on and under a Los Angeles freeway), have presented Sarastro as a figure every bit as sinister as the Queen of the Night, implying that his devotees are a zombie-like cadre of people mesmerized by his tyranny, rather than the votaries of a new order of Wisdom, Reason and Nature.
The parallel with modern religious sects such as the Moonies is obvious – perhaps excessively so.

Recordings

CD: Ruth Ziesak (Pamina); Georg Solti (cond.).
Decca 433 210 2

Rosa Mannion (Pamina); William Christie (cond.).
Erato 0630 12705 2.
Period instruments

Video: Lucia Popp (Pamina); Karl Böhm (cond.).
Bavarian State Opera production.
Philips 0704053

PART TWO