Mozart composed The Magic Flute in the summer of 1791, only a few months before his death, for the Freihaus-Theatre in Vienna. It is often classified as a Singspiel (German comic opera), but that definition does not do justice to the peculiar combination of literary sources employed by the librettist Emanuel Shikaneder and the wide breadth of musical styles that Mozart composed for this late masterpiece.
Instead of relying on a single stage play or literary work, Shikaneder constructed the libretto out of various scenes pulled from the Arthurian romance Yvain, Abbé Jean Terrason’s French novel Sethos, a scholarly work entitled On the Mysteries of the Egyptians, several fairy tales from the Dschinnistan, as well as his and Mozart’s own experiences with Masonic orders in Vienna. Some of these Masonic references sparked criticism as lodge members were shocked to see their secret initiation ceremonies used as plot material.
The first act has a chivalric nature: Prince Tamino is sent on a quest by the mysterious Queen of the Night to rescue her beautiful daughter Pamina, who has been kidnapped by Sarastro. By the end of Act I, however, Tamino and his sidekick Papageno are side-tracked onto a higher quest to purify themselves and gain admittance into Sarastro’s temples. From then on, the Queen is viewed as the wrong-doer, in contrast to the benign and enlightened Sarastro and his followers. Some scholars have suggested that this plot twist is quite awkward and probably contrived into the libretto to avoid competition with a rival opera in Vienna called Kaspar the Bassoonist. Whether that is true or not, from the finale of Act I until the opera’s conclusion, The Magic Flute changes from a dreamlike fairy tale to an allegory of the Enlightenment in which Tamino must repress his desire for Pamina in order to gain entry into the Temples of Wisdom, Reason, and Nature.
One of the most discussed scenes in the opera is the long accompanied recitative that takes place during the Act I finale. While searching for Pamina, Tamino is barred from entering the Temples. Through his dialogue with Sarastro’s Priest he is also made aware of his ignorance and immaturity. As the Priest leaves him in despair, Tamino cries, “O endless night! When will you vanish? When will my eyes see light?” Hearing a recitative in a Singspiel is strange enough, but what is most remarkable about this scene is the lack of continuous music. Mozart chooses to punctuate the dialogue with light harmonic accompaniment and several recurring motives, creating a seemingly proto-Wagnerian aesthetic. The music also glides through a series of keys, obscuring any underlying tonal center. Tamino’s recognition of his own naiveté takes place in musical timelessness, and we return to a sense of normalcy as the priest responds to Tamino’s questions by way of a haunting melody in A minor.
Throughout other scenes, we are treated to the wide range of musical topics that we might expect in Mozart’s late dramatic works. The Magic Flute does not include any da capo arias as one would find in Italian operas, yet the Queen’s two solo numbers characterize her as a classic opera seria character. Her opening recitative and aria (I, 4) seems especially unusual as the Singspiel typically consisted of folk tunes. The same is true of the so-called “Queen of the Night Aria,” (II, 4). This archetypal rage aria, loaded with coloratura, appears out of context with the more populist aesthetic of The Magic Flute. The Queen’s music is easily contrasted with Papageno’s “The birdcatcher am I” (I, 2), a simple, strophic number that is more suited for comedy. Mozart also provides several majestic pieces to accompany the ceremonies outside Sarastro’s Temples. Of special note is a duet sung by the two Men in Armor during the Act II finale. As Tamino contemplates his final initiation rite, the men harmonize a cantus-firmus like melody over a contrapuntal accompaniment. The texture of this section is closer to that of a chorale prelude by Bach, and it is no coincidence that Mozart adapted the Lutheran chorale Ach Gott, von Himmel sieh’ darein for the duet.
Above all, composer and librettist wanted to entertain their audience, and Mozart was able to add to the merriment as he conducted the opening performances and Shikaneder sang the role of Papageno. Although Papageno performs on a magic glockenspiel throughout the opera, he only feigns playing while an offstage musician covers the part. In a letter to his wife Constanze, Mozart tells of a little prank he played on his collaborator: “Well, just for fun, at the point where Shikaneder has a pause, I played an arpeggio [on the offstage glockenspiel]. He was startled, looked behind the wings and saw me. When he had his next pause, I played no arpeggio. This time he stopped and refused to go on. I guessed what he was thinking and then played a chord. He then struck a glockenspiel and said ‘Shut up.’ Whereupon everyone laughed.” The disclosure of Shikaneder’s “lip syncing” did not keep The Magic Flute from becoming Mozart’s biggest operatic success. |
 If you are familiar with The Magic flute, you will notice an important change in Act II. For those of you who are seeing the Magic Flute for the first time, I will not keep you in suspense: the change is the placement of the trio for Sarastro, Tamino and Pamina. This usually occurs about two-thirds of the way through the second act. In this production, it comes immediately before the actual trials begin. This change helps to emphasize the fact that these tests and the growth towards wisdom apply not only to Tamino, but to Tamino and Pamina.
Taimon represents the rational world. He is justice—single-minded actions dedicated to achieving what he believes to be correct based on fact, rules, intellectual consideration. Pamina represents the personal world. She is mercy—sensing her way towards that is right, viewing the world through the tempering of the emotions. Neither of them is complete. Their tests will teach them this.
The first part of the trials is individual. Tamino and Pamina must learn each on their own that the rational mind which forgest the heart or the heart which forsakes reason will end up both unfulfilled and alone. As they both will understand by the end of this part of their trials, when Pamina sings to Tamino, “Ah, I feel that all is vanished…,” justice without mercy or mercy without justice must pay a serious price. For Tamino, he is left utterly along; Pamina is plunged into a despair that leads her to contemplate the ultimate irrational act, suicide.
It is at this moment, before they begin the trials which will test them jointly, that the magic of The Magic flute intervenes. Magic (the miraculous, serendipity, call it what you will) can manifest itself in unexpected and commonplace ways. It may be unknown friends, like the three spirits, who rise to the occasion and support Pamina in her time of desolation. ( They also do the same for Papageno—miracles don’t discriminate) Or, it may be Pamina bringing her support to Tamino before they attempt the final tests. She realizes that, in order to obtain ultimate wisdom, one must trust not only the power of reason or the strength of the soul, but also the transcendent power of things which seems to defy both reason and nature. In this case, it is the power of music. It is the music of the bells calling Papageno’s true love to him, or the more noble music of the flute shielding Tamino and Pamina as they pass through their most grievous trials. This magic element of trust in the inexplicable is the final ingredient that allows Tamino and Pamina to join together and complete their humanity.
It is this balance of justice, mercy and magic that is the important message of The Magic Flute. May everyone who sees this show find this balance in their lives! |
