“A light, bright, fine day this will remain throughout my whole life. As from afar, the magic notes of Mozart’s music still gently haunt me”. – Franz Schubert
Die Zauberflöte was perhaps Mozart’s most successful opera – a triumph the composer couldn’t fully savour, dying just two months after its premiere at the age of 35. His last year, 1791, was marked by relentless overwork and illness. This singspiel has two faces: one as a magical tale for children, the other full of profound Masonic allegory and symbolism. Which is the best way to approach the opera? The truth lies somewhere in between: it shouldn’t be treated as a mere children’s play, nor as an overly solemn sequence of Masonic rituals. Instead, the two equally important aspects of the work must be considered in balance.
A masterpiece in every sense of the word, Die Zauberflöte has been a staple of the standard operatic repertoire ever since its premiere, which means that there is no shortage of great recordings of Mozart’s final operatic work. Record companies have always managed to assemble a principal cast that includes a quintessentially Mozartian tenor for the role of Tamino, a light lyric soprano for Pamina, a lyric baritone for the not-so-demanding role of Papageno (which, however, requires a baritone who can act exceptionally well), a dramatic coloratura soprano for the Queen of the Night and a solemn basso profondo for Sarastro.
Decent recordings
We begin this guide with Wolfgang Sawallisch’s 1972 version for EMI/Warner, whose reading of the work is clearly informed but uncharacteristically cold and inexpressive. As for the cast, Peter Schreier’s Tamino is as intelligent and nuanced as usual. Opposite him, Anneliese Rothenberger’s Pamina is competent but at times aloof. Walter Berry’s Papageno is as reliable as ever, though his voice is beginning to sound tired and heavy with age. Kurt Moll’s first Sarastro on record shows great promise, but lacks the touch of experience that would later establish him as one of the best interpreters of the role in subsequent recordings. The highlight of this recording is Edda Moser’s Queen of the Night. Not only does she hit all the notes perfectly, but more importantly, her voice has the right weight and dramatic intensity to convincingly portray the role.
Almost 30 years after his first studio recording of the opera, Herbert von Karajan returned to Die Zauberflöte for Deutsche Grammophon in 1979 with a recording that can only be described as uneven. His musical direction moves away from the straightforward approach of his first recording, resulting in a very heavy and overthought interpretation of the work. While it can be fascinating at certain moments, it is frankly too ponderous most of the time. Cast-wise, Francisco Araiza is an exceptional Tamino and alongside him Edith Mathis sings a very sensible Pamina. The same cannot be said of the rest of the principal cast, though. Gottfried Hornik’s Papageno is dull, José van Dam should never have sung Sarastro and Karin Ott is yet another example of why being able to hit the notes is not enough to make a great Queen of the Night. On the other hand, Janet Perry’s Papagena is remarkable. Interestingly, this is one of the earliest digital opera recordings. However, as the technology was still in its infancy, the sound is not always balanced and in some respects uneven.
RCA’s 1980 version is worth owning for James Levine’s conducting, which is precise, agile and particularly strong in the more serious aspects of the work, supported by a fantastically sounding Vienna Philharmonic. The cast, however, isn’t always up to the mark. Eric Tappy’s Tamino is adequate without being outstanding, Christian Boesch’s Papageno is unremarkable and Zdzisława Donat demonstrates why simply being able to hit the notes isn’t enough to create a convincing Queen of the Night, as she lacks nuance and interpretive depth. Ileana Cotrubaș delivers a very fine Pamina and Martti Talvela is admirable as Sarastro, although he sounds better in other recordings. The sound quality of this version is phenomenal.
Much like Karajan, Sir Georg Solti’s second attempt at recording Die Zauberflöte stands in stark contrast to his first. This time, for Decca (1990), his approach is mellower and places considerable emphasis on the lighter character moments, occasionally at the expense of the opera’s more dramatic and intense passages – something that would have been unthinkable for the earlier Solti. The cast has its strengths: Kurt Moll delivers one of the finest Sarastros on record, Sumi Jo is an excellent Queen of the Night and Uwe Heilmann portrays an intimate, introspective Tamino. Ruth Ziesak and Michael Kraus give decent performances as Pamina and Papageno respectively. While this is a solid recording, it falls short of Solti’s first studio attempt at the opera, which will be discussed later in this guide.
Period instruments: Interesting, yet not ideal
As with every Mozart opera, the historically informed movement has tried its hand at Die Zauberflöte, and as with Mozart’s other great singspiel, Die Entführung aus dem Serail, it doesn’t work as well as with his Italian operas. The inherent lightness of these performances fails to capture the more solemn aspects of the work. Nevertheless, there are some good things about this style of performance that are worth noting. In Sir John Eliot Gardiner’s live recording for Archiv (1995), the conducting is commendable, as is Gerald Finley’s Papageno. The highlight of William Christie’s recording for Erato (1995) is Natalie Dessay’s fiery Queen of the Night. Finally, René Jacobs’ live version for Harmonia Mundi (2009) features a well-balanced cast, and although the conductor’s reading is heterodox, eccentric and at times borderline gimmicky, it works well enough. There are some vocal embellishments that I personally find unnecessary and annoying.
The ‘mixed approach’
One of the most valid ways of interpreting Mozart is through a ‘mixed approach’: a chamber orchestra playing on modern instruments, but performing the work in a somewhat period style. This way of playing ensures that the more serious and solemn parts of the opera aren’t neglected as they often are in a full period instrument approach. Charles Mackerras, with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, uses this method on the 1991 Telarc recording. The conducting and orchestral playing work well, although they can be a little one-dimensional. Jerry Hadley (Tamino), Barbara Hendricks (Pamina) and Thomas Allen (Papageno) are fantastic singers who give an admirable vocal performance, but they falter considerably in their interpretation of the characters. It’s as if they are simply singing the text without understanding its meaning. Robert Lloyd, on the other hand, captures the interpretation of Sarastro well, but his voice lacks the weight and resonance necessary to do justice to the role. The only absolute triumph of the principal cast is June Anderson’s fantastic and highly neurotic Queen of the Night. As with the Jacobs recording, the entire performance is marred by unnecessary vocal embellishments.
In what is undoubtedly his best Mozart opera recording, Claudio Abbado uses the same ‘mixed approach’ live with his beloved Mahler Chamber Orchestra (Deutsche Grammophon, 2005). The conducting – intellectual and nuanced in the most Masonic parts of the work, yet light and agile in the lighter moments – is one of the high points of the recording. The cast, on the other hand, has its ups and downs. Dorothea Röschmann as Pamina and René Pape as Sarastro are not only fantastic, they are among the best ever recorded. Christoph Strehl (Tamino) sits in a solid middle ground; not as outstanding as Röschmann and Pape, but a competent Tamino in his own right. As Papageno, Hanno Müller-Brachmann sounds tired and lifeless – a major misstep for such an expressive role. Erika Miklósa’s Queen of the Night is another example of a soprano who hits all the high notes with impeccable technique, but falls short in every other aspect of the role. There is one other recording in this guide that follows the ‘mixed approach’, but that will be discussed in due course.
Great Live Options
The second Furtwängler recording of Die Zauberflöte, from the 1951 Salzburg Festival (EMI/Warner), is preferable to his first (1949) because of its superior sound quality and the presence of three superb artists: Anton Dermota as an elegant and regal Tamino, giving probably his best recorded performance, Irmgard Seefried as a sublime Pamina and Erich Kunz as a very comic and lively Papageno. As one would expect from Furtwängler, the musical direction excels in the more serious aspects of the opera, albeit at the expense of some of the lighter moments. However, this should not detract from what remains a masterfully conducted performance. As for the rest of the cast, Wilma Lipp’s Queen of the Night is full of fiery rage (in the best sense) and Josef Greindl’s Sarastro, while commanding, lacks kindness and comes across more like Fafner.
There are a number of things that make this Karajan live recording from 1953 (Walhall) attractive, and the most important is Elisabeth Schwarzkopf’s fantastic rendition of Pamina: regal and aristocratic, yet naive and pure, with outstanding phrasing. There’s just one problem – the whole thing is sung in Italian, in a very mediocre translation, which is an even bigger crime when you consider that Elisabeth Schwarzkopf is there, and instead of letting her sing beautifully in her native tongue, she’s forced to perform in a language she’s less comfortable with. Otherwise, you get Nicolai Gedda’s first recording as Tamino, lively and stylish, and Giuseppe Taddei, who, at the risk of exaggerating the comedy, is enormously communicative, which, coupled with his big baritonal timbre, makes for a brilliant Papageno. Rita Streich as the Queen of the Night and Mario Petri as Sarastro are serviceable, but not as good as their colleagues. As for the musical direction, it’s typical of Karajan’s pre-Berlin approach – exciting, energetic and vigorous.
This live recording from 1960 (Golden Melodram) is worth listening to for two reasons. The first is Joseph Keilberth’s conducting, as he is one of the few who can strike the right balance between the serious and light moments of the work. His interpretation is detailed and nuanced, and his strong rapport with the Wiener Philharmoniker is evident. The second reason is Fritz Wunderlich’s Tamino, undoubtedly the best performer of the role in recorded history. His rich and beautiful voice, combined with his intelligent and passionate interpretation, makes him the perfect Tamino. As for the rest of the cast, Walter Berry is an always effective Papageno and Gottlob Frick a solid Sarastro, while Lieselotte Fölser as Pamina and Erika Köth as the Queen of the Night are somewhat anonymous but complement the cast adequately.
Dialogue-less Masterpieces
The following four recordings have all been hailed as references for Die Zauberflöte, and rightly so – they are all artistically first-rate in their own right. However, they all have one major flaw in common: the lack of dialogue. This omission makes it impossible for any of these recordings to be a top recommendation, as they not only exclude an essential part of what makes a singspiel, but also lose the context of what happens between the musical numbers.
Sir Thomas Beecham’s recording is the first complete attempt at Die Zauberflöte (Naxos, 1937-38) and set a bar so high that, almost 90 years later, few recordings come close. The English maestro firmly embraced the fairytale aspects of the work over its Masonic elements, resulting in a jovial and light-hearted reading of the opera. Helge Rosvaenge makes a fantastic Tamino; his voice, more dramatic than usual for the role, adds a heroic quality rarely encountered. Gerhard Hüsch’s Papageno is brilliant, his warm tone perfectly suited to the character and his comic timing spot on. There is an interesting dynamic between Tiana Lemnitz’s Pamina and Erna Berger’s Queen of the Night: while Lemnitz’s vocal control and line are excellent, her voice sounds slightly mature, and Berger hits all the notes with ease, but lacks dramatic intent and sounds too light, giving the impression that the mother-daughter roles are reversed. Wilhelm Strienz is a solid Sarastro, but could do with more depth in his voice. The mono sound holds up remarkably well, especially considering the early date of recording.
Herbert von Karajan’s first recorded reading of the opera, in mono sound (EMI/Warner, 1950), is spirited and vibrant in a manner similar to Beecham’s, but with greater emphasis on the more solemn elements of the work. Four of the five principal singers – Dermota (Tamino), Seefried (Pamina), Kunz (Papageno) and Lipp (Queen of the Night) – also appear on the live Furtwängler recording discussed earlier in this guide, and while their performances here are largely similar, Karajan gives them more freedom, for better or worse. Erich Kunz, for example, takes these liberties to an extreme in a negative way, resulting in an overblown and hyperhistrionic portrayal of Papageno, while Irmgard Seefried and Wilma Lipp use their liberties to positive effect, sounding less static and more in character. Dermota’s interpretation remains largely unchanged, but his impeccable phrasing is more evident in the longer lines of the Furtwängler version. Ludwig Weber is sensational as Sarastro. Another remarkable aspect of this recording is the exceptional talent in the minor roles, including Emmy Loose as Papagena, George London as the Speaker, Sena Jurinac as the First Lady and Günther Treptow as the First Armoured Man.
The first of two studio recordings of Die Zauberflöte conducted by Karl Böhm (Decca, 1955) is very intellectual in its approach. The Austrian maestro’s vision of the opera undoubtedly tends towards the ritualistic and solemn, which is at times at odds with the Wiener Philharmoniker’s approach to the work. The orchestra seems better suited to a more light-hearted approach such as that of Karajan (pre-Berlin), Szell or Levine, with Furtwängler being the only exception, resulting in some parts of this recording sounding overly thin. As for the cast, Léopold Simoneau’s Tamino is a highlight – delicate and tender, almost a polar opposite to Rosvaenge under Beecham, but equally valid. Hilde Güden is also fantastic as Pamina; her beautiful, almost transparent voice is a perfect complement to Simoneau’s Tamino. Walter Berry is once again an ever-reliable Papageno. Of all of Wilma Lipp’s Queens, this is clearly the least successful; there’s an obvious widening in her vibrato and her high notes are sometimes unpleasant to listen to. Kurt Böhme’s Sarastro sounds too Wagnerian, lacking the kindness and nobility that are essential characteristics of the role. In the minor roles, Emmy Loose as Papagena and Christa Ludwig as the Second Lady stand out.
Otto Klemperer’s 1964 recording for EMI/Warner is rightly hailed for its grandeur and gravitas, and indeed Die Zauberflöte has rarely sounded so majestic and holistic. Yet unlike some of Klemperer’s other operatic recordings, not an ounce of comedy or lightheartedness is sacrificed, even at the slower tempi favoured by the German maestro. It’s remarkable how he achieves a perfect balance between the contrasting aspects of the opera and, in my opinion, no version of this work is better conducted. The cast is equally impressive: Nicolai Gedda’s voice captures all the qualities of Tamino, Gundula Janowitz’s Pamina is flawless and Walter Berry delivers a typically strong Papageno. A very young Lucia Popp sings the Queen beautifully, though she lacks the weight and dramatism in her voice that is crucial to the role, while Gottlob Frick’s Sarastro is somewhat convincing, though he sounds too old and rusty. Among the minor roles, Gerhard Unger’s Monostatos stands out and Franz Crass’ Speaker is extraordinary, while Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Christa Ludwig and Marga Höffgen form a very luxurious trio of Ladies. It’s a shame that the dialogue is missing, as with it this recording could have been the definitive Flöte, given its unrivalled artistic quality.
Good choices
Ferenc Fricsay’s readings of Mozart are always theatrical and expressive, and this 1955 mono recording for Deutsche Grammophon is no exception. It sounds as if it has been taken straight from the stage and put on disc. This is also the first recording to attempt to include the dialogue, albeit in a shortened version. This is significant because, for the first time in the history of studio Flöte recordings, we have the crucial context of what is happening in the story between the musical numbers. The cast has two clear standouts: Ernst Haefliger, a favourite of the conductor, delivers a very intelligent and nuanced Tamino, while Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s first recorded Papageno is witty and highly comic, if at times too refined for the role. The mother-daughter dynamic with Maria Stader (Pamina) and Rita Streich (Queen of the Night) is reminiscent of Beecham’s, with both singers performing decently enough but the daughter sounding more mature than the mother. Josef Greindl’s Sarastro, as in the Furtwängler live recording, lacks the vocal qualities to be truly convincing in the role.
Otmar Suitner’s 1968 recording for RCA has always been something of an underrated gem. It features the Staatskapelle Dresden, perhaps the orchestra most adept at performing Mozart’s Germanic works, and under Suitner’s meticulous direction they manage to bring out every nuance of the score. As for the singers, Peter Schreier’s intelligent Tamino, Helen Donath’s lovely Pamina or Günther Leib’s theatrical Papageno could easily be singled out for praise, but the recording’s greatest strength lies in the cast’s ability to function as an ensemble, creating a most solid and convincing Zauberflöte in both artistic quality and interpretation.
Without reaching the same heights, Bernard Haitink’s 1981 EMI/Warner recording comes closest to Klemperer in approach and interpretation. The result may not be as epic or majestic, but the beautifully luminous sound of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra compensates somewhat. The cast performs admirably, with Siegfried Jerusalem delivering a heroic Tamino in the mould of Rosvaenge, Lucia Popp’s Pamina showing immaculate phrasing and expression, Wolfgang Brendel offering a lush, rich-voiced Papageno and Edita Gruberová providing an exciting Queen of the Night, though she could delve deeper into the interpretive aspects of the role. Roland Bracht’s Sarastro, on the other hand, is rather wobbly and sounds tired. In the secondary roles, Heinz Zednik’s Monostatos deserves praise, as do Peter Hofmann and Aage Haugland as the Armoured Men. The inclusion of two Mozart experts from the 1940s, 50s and 60s, Waldemar Kmentt and Erich Kunz, as the First and Second Priests, is a welcome touch.
Outstanding recordings
Karl Böhm’s approach to his second studio recording of Die Zauberflöte (Deutsche Grammophon, 1964) is very similar to his first, but this time it’s properly executed thanks to the Berliner Philharmoniker, who seem to be more accustomed to Böhm’s heavier reading of the opera. The result sounds logical and coherent, unlike the Austrian maestro’s first attempt. Fritz Wunderlich is absolutely brilliant; in his last and most complete recording of Tamino, he delivers a perfect interpretation of the role. The beauty of his timbre is complemented by his heroic yet elegant phrasing and a deeply studied understanding of both the work and the composer. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s intellectual approach to Papageno, which seemed somewhat at odds with the musical direction of the Fricsay recording, works perfectly here, its refinement and musicality matching well with Böhm’s more ritualistic interpretation. Franz Crass as Sarastro is equally brilliant and, along with Kurt Moll, is one of the finest interpreters of the role in recorded history. The female cast, however, is less convincing. Evelyn Lear is at best an adequate Pamina and Roberta Peters fails to capture the dramatic depth required for the Queen of the Night. Friedrich Lenz is a very musical Monostatos, as is Lisa Otto’s Papagena. Hans Hotter as the Speaker, James King as the First Armoured Man and Martti Talvela as the Second Armoured Man are also very welcome additions.
From the first note of the overture it is clear that this is the same Sir Georg Solti who famously conducted Wagner’s Ring for Decca, a far cry from the mellower and more refined Solti of the 80s and 90s. The Hungarian maestro’s first studio reading (Decca, 1969) is notable for its intensity – an intensity that, while occasionally superficial and glossing over both the Masonic and light-hearted aspects of the opera, is nonetheless thrilling. The cast is superb: Stuart Burrows as Tamino comes very close to Wunderlich, while Pilar Lorengar’s beautifully sung Pamina is vulnerable and touching. Hermann Prey follows Fischer-Dieskau’s line as Papageno but is more spontaneous and communicative, with better comic timing and Martti Talvela’s Sarastro sounds very good here, much better than in the Levine recording. Christina Deutekom deserves special mention – yes, she can sing the high notes, and yes, she has the agility, but more importantly, she brings the dramatic weight and maturity needed for the Queen of the Night, something many performers in the discography lack, even if her timbre isn’t to everyone’s liking. Fischer-Dieskau returns to the work, this time as a fantastic Speaker, while the Two Armoured Men, René Kollo and Hans Sotin, are outstanding.
This is another recording of the great Staatskapelle Dresden, this time conducted by Sir Colin Davis (Philips, 1984). While Suitner conducts the orchestra in a meticulous and calculated manner on his previously discussed recording, Davis takes a more luminous and colourful approach. Margaret Price’s Pamina is a highlight of the recording, with an absolutely beautiful and lovely soprano sound. Mikael Melbye, though not on the level of Prey or Fischer-Dieskau, delivers a lively and engaging Papageno, while Luciana Serra’s Queen of the Night is exciting but lacks some dramatic weight. Kurt Moll, as already mentioned, offers one of the two finest Sarastros on record – his noble, aristocratic, yet kind and understanding portrayal is truly one for the ages. The weakest link in the principal cast is Peter Schreier’s ageing Tamino, but his intelligence as a singer allows him to navigate the role commendably. The sound quality of this record is fantastic.
Top recommendation
My most highly recommended recording of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte is Sir Neville Marriner’s 1989 performance for Philips with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, a chamber orchestra. This performance follows the ‘mixed approach’ mentioned earlier in the guide, but Marriner breathes life into the magical elements of the work like no other conductor with a reduced orchestra, achieving a perfect balance between the fairytale and metaphysical aspects of the opera. Francisco Araiza’s Tamino comes closest to Fritz Wunderlich’s (along with Burrows in the first Solti recording). Though less vocally robust, he carries the role with elegance and nobility. Kiri Te Kanawa’s Pamina brings a richness of voice rarely heard in the role, while Olaf Bär’s Papageno leans deep into the comedy in a fantastic way, maintaining a very light yet captivating baritone. Cheryl Studer continues the tradition of Moser and Deutekom as a Queen of the Night with the dramatic skills necessary for a convincing performance. To complete a main cast without a weak link, Samuel Ramey’s Sarastro is so good it’s hard to believe he’s never sung the role on stage. In the minor roles, Eva Lind’s Papagena is delightful and José van Dam’s Speaker is magnificent. This is also the best Zauberflöte in terms of sound quality.
