Metropolitan Opera Preview: Die Zauberflöte

We test the theory that everything is funnier in German.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Kathryn Lewek is the Queen of the Night in Mozart's Die Zauberflöte.
Photo by Ken Howard © The Metropolitan Opera.

James Levine continues his tour of the great Mozart operas with the composer's last work. Die Zauberflöte ("The Magic Flute") is part knockabout comedy, part love story and part sacred mystical journey into enlightenment for its young hero. This is the uncut version of the opera, sung in German. (A shorter version in English will be offered in December, geared toward a younger audience.)

The Mozart Project

Seven great works from the genius who changed the world.

by Paul J. Pelkonen

Somewhere around three-quarters of the way through the ten articles lay month chronicling the life and major stage works of Richard Wagner I started thinking about who I was going to write about next, I thought for maybe ten seconds and decided that the next composer in our spotlight will be Mozart.

Opera Review: Between Sun and Moon

The Manhattan School of Music mounts Die Zauberflöte.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

The Queen of the Night by Erté.
Image by Erté © the estate of the artist.

Mozart's Die Zauberflöte is one of the most popular operas in the repertory, but staging  successful performance of it remains elusive. This Wednesday night, it was the Manhattan School of Music that accepted the challenge of staging the singspiel in a new production by director and dramaturge Jay Lesenger, imported to the conservatory following successful performances in the Midwest.

Opera Review: Three Chords and the Truth

Isango Ensemble presents a souped-up Magic Flute.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Soprano, arranger, ruler of the heavens: Pauline Malefane as the Queen of the Night
in Isango Ensemble's The Magic Flute: Impempe Yomlingo.
Photo courtesy New Victory Theater/Shakespeare Theater Company.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's The Magic Flute received a decidedly African makeover this week, with the arrival of Isango Ensemble's touring company at the New Victory Theater. (The performances, which run through November 9, are in association with Carnegie Hall's ongoing South Africa-oriented Ubuntu! festival.) Retitled The Magic Flute: Impempe Yomlingo, this performance repurposed the opera's original Masonic parable as an exuberant celebration of South African township culture, with the score performed on...marimbas.

Opera Review: The Magic Piccolo

The Met presents its "family-friendly" Flute.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Twitter feed: Ashley Emerson (left) and Nathan Gunn as Papagena and Papageno in The Magic Flute.
Photo by Marty Sohl © 2013 The Metropolitan Opera.

With its mix of popular Viennese music hall song, classical-style arias and spoken dialogue, Mozart's Die Zauberflöte has suffered cuts and alterations ever since the original Papageno (Emanuel Schickenader) pranced upon the stage of the Theater auf der Wieden in 1791. On Monday night, the Metropolitan Opera opened its one-act, 95-minute Flute as this year's holiday offering, geared towards exposing New York's next generation to the magic of Mozart's final opera.

Obituary: Evelyn Lear (1926-2012)

Soprano acclaimed for Mozart, Strauss and modern music.

Evelyn Lear as the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier.
Photo borrowed from our good friends at parterre.com

Evelyn Lear, the critically acclaimed American soprano who thrilled audiences in repertory ranging from Die Zauberflöte to Lulu died yesterday at a nursing home in Maryland. She was 86.

The death was reported by Ms. Lear's son Jan Stewart. The cause of death was not reported. A full obituary appeared in the Washington Post.

Ms. Lear enjoyed a long stage and recording career, often appearing with her late husband, bass-baritone Thomas Stewart. Her first Met appearance came in the house premiere of Levy's Mourning Becomes Electra. She ended her run at New York's largest opera house with the Marschallin in a 1985 Der Rosenkavalier.

Recordings Review: The Whole Flute

René Jacobs' 2010 studio Die Zauberflöte is three hours of Mozartean bliss.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

(Ed. Note: This is a slightly revised re-post of a recording from two years ago, with some further thoughts upon further listening. It's still like no other recording in the catalogue, but I have some reservations I needed to express.--P.) 

The new René Jacobs recording of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte stands apart from all the other recordings of this opera in the catalogue. Sprawling onto three discs and running almost three hours, this innovative set presents the opera as Mozart's original audience may have heard it in 1791.


Most early recordings of Mozart's final opera either eliminated the spoken dialogue altogether (as "unmusical") or had the singers (or worse yet, voice actors) recite the dialogue with no accompaniment whatsoever. Too often, the result was a series of dry, boring interruptions in the music that would have listeners reaching for the 'skip' button. This recording takes the opposite approach, opening up all the standard cuts and treating the opera's libretto as organic dialogue between living, breathing theatrical characters.

Jacobs has assembled a talented young cast, led by the pairing of Daniel Behle and Marlis Petersen as Tamino and Pamina. Daniel Schmutzhard is a warm, funny Papageno, able to cut loose in the opera's comic scenes. He is well matched with Sunhae Im as Papagena. (Ms. Im also does a convincing "old crone" voice for her character.) Marcos Fink is a sturdy baritonal Sarastro. Bass Konstantin Wolfff is all over the Temple in a triple role: he's the Speaker, one of the Priests and one of the Two Men in Armor.

The only serious hitch in the casting is the Finnish soprano Anna-Kristiina Kaappolla as theQueen of the Night. Although this is a short part, recorded under studio conditions, Ms. Kaapolla caps her arias with some ugly attempts that hover near a high F but sometimes pull sharp. (This is especially noticeable at the very end of "O zittre nicht.") Were these the best takes that the recording engineers could manage?

Character tenor Kurt Azesberger brings Monostatos to new depths of depravity, especially since he doesn't have most of his lines cut. His entry is accompanied by whip-cracks, making the slave-driving Moor a menacing figure. Also, the racist references in the libretto ("schwarz" and so on) are left in, along with the scene with the three slaves. All these effects sound like distractions, but they enhance the drama of the work, particularly in the complex second act with its rapid scene changes.

The addition of a pianoforte continuo helps accent the spoken dialogue. Also, this recording abounds in old-fashioned sound effects. Papageno is followed by the twitter of his captives, played on old-fashioned wooden bird-calls. The Queen of the Night gets a thunder-machine rattle every time she is even mentioned--and the big "bang"chord, mentioned by Schickenader in the libretto but left out of the sheet music.

Some "period" recordings of Mozart sound dry and stuffy. But here, the instruments have bloom and bite, played and conducted with pin-point accuracy. Mr. Jacobs selects brisk tempos for the most part, but his decision to slow down for dramatic effect at times (most noticeable in the "dancing slaves" scene in Act I) works too. It's all about serving the drama and making this opera come to aural life as a living theatrical experience. Simply put: this is The Magic Flute as you've never heard it before.

Old-School Mozart: The 1950 Karajan Vienna Recordings

The Man, the Maestro: Herbert von Karajan. © Universal Classics.

These two recordings of Mozart operas: Le Nozze di Figaro and Die Zauberflöte, rank among the earliest LP recordings of an entire opera in a recording studio. (Decca recorded Die Meistersinger in 1950 with Hans Knappertsbusch, but that's another column.) They are also the first two complete recordings led by Herbert von Karajan, at the start of his long association with the EMI label.

Both of these sets were made in Vienna in 1950. They are from the early days of LP records, and are in mono sound. (Stereo recording was invented in 1952)

As such, they offer the listener the chance to hear the Austrian conductor at his warmest and most innovative.

Vienna Philharmonic cond. Herbert von Karajan (EMI, 1950)

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf.
Photo by Fayer © EMI Classics

Le Nozze di Figaro
Figaro: Erich Kunz
Susanna: Irmgard Seefried
The Countess: Elisabeth Schwarzkopf
Count Almaviva: George London
Cherubino: Sena Jurinac

Die Zauberflöte
Sarastro: Ludwig Weber
The Queen of the Night: Wilma Lipp
Tamino: Anton Dermota
Pamina: Irmgard Seefried
Papagena Erich Kunz

Figaro was made in June and October of 1950. Erich Kunz is a dark-timbred, sardonic valet, who switches over to warm tone in his intimate scenes with Irmgard Seefried's terrific, pert Susanna. Selena Juranac is a fully embodied Cherubino. It is not an insult to say that this trouser role is sung with boyish enthusiasm. The ensembles bloom with warmth, especially in the second act.

An excerpt: Selena Juranac sing "Non s piu cosa son, cosa faccio" 

from Act I of Figaro. © 1950, EMI Classics

George London sings the Count with real menace in the early acts, which melts away at the opera's climax in Act IV. Karajan slows down the tempo for their reconciliation scene, allowing Elisabeth Schwarzkopf to really shine in the final ensemble. She is a marvel here, helped by Karajan's choice of dead-slow tempos whenever she sings.

The Flute was laid down in November of that same year. Karajan takes an even slower tempo here, especially with the three stately chords that launch the Overture. Other key moments in the score: the March of the Priests, the Two Men in Armor scene are rendered in vivid color by the Viennese forces. The choral singing is firm and well-caught.

This set features essentially the same cast (with the subtraction of Ms. Schwarzkopf and the substitution of Wilma Lipp as the Queen of the Night.) And it's a good one. Anton Dermota and Ms. Seefried are an engaging, ideal pair as Tamino and Pamina. He really sounds panicked in "Zu hilfe," and his fine characterization continues throughout. She is warm in "Bei Mannern", reunited (temporarily) with her Figaro, Erich Kunz, now in the role of Papageno.

Mr. Kunz may be no match for later bird-catchers (the role became a favorite of lieder singers in the stereo era) but he is bluff and good-natured. (I'd love to hear him in the opera's comic dialogue.) Ludwig Weber is an authoritative, but not authoritarian Sarastro. This recording captures the Wagner veteran in fine form just before the re-opening of the Bayreuth Festival the following year.

Both recordings feature the Vienna Philharmonic in top post-war form, playing with warmth and their unique, characteristic timbre. And despite being six decades old, the engineering is excellent, from the rattling tone of the timpani to the warm tone of the singers. The distinctive Vienna brass and wind are also captured with clarity on these CD remasters.

There are a few drawbacks. Figaro is missing ALL of the recitatives, which means you have to know the opera to follow the plot. The same goes for Zauberflöte, as no attempt is made to record the spoken dialogue between scenes. A libretto is helpful when listening if you don't know the operas.

No Flute For You: Tales from the Rush Line

This is a piece about not going to the opera.

Banished from the Temple: The Julie Taymor Magic Flute.
Photo by Ken Howard © 2009 The Metropolitan Opera

Thursday afternoon: I'm heading into Manhattan on a personal matter. I decide, at the last minute to swing by the Metropolitan Opera later in the afternoon, to try to get a ticket to see Mozart's The Magic Flute in its abridged, family-friendly, English-language incarnation. (This shorter version is known to some as The Magic Piccolo.)

This was how I saw Flute last year, walking up at 7pm and getting lucky with a "rush" ticket in the orchestra. The Met's Rush program supplies lucky opera-goers who line up for seats with low-cost tickets, usually in the orchestra. The program, sponsored by philanthropist Agnes Varis has resulted in fuller houses and an "open-to-the-public" feel at 30 Lincoln Center, characteristic of Peter Gelb's reign as general manager.

After asking at the box office if there were any cheap seats left, I went down to the Lincoln Center concourse (right by the double glass doors that I walk through on Monday nights) and got on line with the folks who are hoping to score tickets to tonight's final Flute. The time was about 4pm.

I found myself in an interesting little group, thrown together for two hours by the randomness of yellow-chain safety barriers. There was a mother taking her little boy, probably to his first opera. A young soprano on her way up, in town for auditions. A small crew of Chinese girls who did not know much about opera. Three guys from Brooklyn taking turns in a folding lawn chair. A nice British couple. And so forth.


At 5:30, Metropolitan Opera security comes by. We're told to get off the floor, fold up any chairs, and tighten up the line. The "line proper" forms, with all of us eager Mozart-lovers packing in between the ugly yellow plastic chain barriers. The wait continues.

Five minutes later, the line moves forward, into a subterranean antechamber beneath the box office. Some of us are allowed up the steps. They're definitely getting tickets. We're the "maybes." So we stand on the other side of the glass doors at the foot of the lobby escalator. We stand in a cold draft for 20 minutes. Refreshing. Reminds me of standing outside Tower Records on Feb. 28, 1991 to get tickets for Metallica's "Snake Pit" tour. Ahh, memories.

We climb the steps. (Apparently we're not allowed to use the escalator.) The steps are narrowed by more chain-and-pole barriers. I reach the top, nearly tripping on a pole once, which would send me and my laptop tumbling down like the giant rolling boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark. I keep my balance, and resume the wait, tapping out the Nibelung rhythm from Das Rheingold to relieve boredom. Dah-dada dah dada DAH-dah dah.

They line us up on the steps. People are going to the four box office windows open, getting their tickets. I'm fifth from the cutoff. All they have left for us is standing room in the Family Circle. Considering that my normal seats are in the Family Circle to begin with, that the abridged Flute has no intermission, and that my legs are tired, I step out of the opera house, go have a cup of hot coffee, and start writing.

You know the rest.

CD Review: The Italian Wizard

The wizard waves his wand: Claudio Abbado

Mozart's final opera, Die Zauberflöte is both philosophical parable and music-hall comedy. Veteran conductor Claudio Abbado balances those two aspects on this live recording, made in 2005 with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra and a cast of (mostly) unknown European singers. Abbado brings out the robust energy in this fiery music and drawing an inspired performance from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra.

Christoph Stehl is the best Tamino on record since the untimely death of Fritz Wunderlich. He is a strong, fully realized hero who makes the journey from jüngling to mensch believable over the course of two discs. Stehl has the right voice for this part, and a feel for Mozart's tricky lyric lines.

His counterpart is Hanno Müller-Brachmann, a Papageno who knows the importance of comic timing and connection with the audience. He sings well, draws laughs, and never sounds like a buffoon. And he does the "Mmm mmm mmm" bit with great comic flair. Bass Rene Pape (the one "star" in the cast) is a resonant Sarastro, paternal without sounding ancient.

Dorothea Röschmann has a great voice, but it is an ill fit for Pamina. Her singing is full, rich and loud, an over-sized performance that sounds too big next to the other voices in the cast. Soprano Erika Mikósa is much better as the Queen of the Night, fearless in the two death-defying coloratura arias. She makes this difficult character a real, human woman as well as a bloodthirsty night goddess--not an easy combination when you have to hit all those high Fs.

This was made in front of an audience in Modena Italy. (Stage noises and audience laughter are audible.) The sound is excellent, pulling the listener in with a warm, immediate acoustic that favors the singers. The Arnold Schoenberg Chor sounds distant at their first entry, but rallies with a mighy hymn to Sarastro and a strong conclusion to the opera. The only real flaw in this recording is the spoken dialogue, which is trimmed down and sounds like it was added later in an echo chamber.