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Papageno: Emanuel Schikaneder

Emanuel Schikaneder, perhaps one of Mozart's best friends, made several entrances and exits during the composer's life. One such entrance led to the composition of Die Zauberflöte (K. 620) late in 1791. The opera's exotic subject and the timing of its premiere -- only months before Mozart's death -- could hardly have been more dramatic. It was an immediate hit and went on to become one of Mozart's most enduring works. But Schikaneder, Mozart's collaborator and librettist, remains a rather obscure and shady character.

The fact is, Schikaneder was very well known in Vienna, especially among the middle class audiences that he endeavored to attract to his theaters. He was a famous Shakespearian actor who could do a mean Hamlet, yet he also could perform the lowest of comedy, and often did. To pull in crowds, he didn't hesitate to make use of spectacular special effects. (The term "Schikanederei" was coined to describe those productions.) He assembled one of the most talented groups of singers ever to perform in Vienna. The Theater an der Wien, which he built, still stands.

Schikaneder's rise from itinerant entertainer to Vienna's most influential impresario makes quite a story, and Kurt Honolka tells it in a straightforward manner. He doesn't embellish his subject's career, nor does he serve as apologist: He makes it clear that Schikaneder rose to fame and fortune through hard work and a thorough understanding of his audience.

Honolka also provides an interesting snapshot of the rough-and-tumble world of Viennese theater. And he gives us some insight into how Mozart and Schikaneder (whose talents were very unevenly matched) were able to work together on their opera.

Schikaneder never again saw such success as he did with Die Zauberflöte. It became his biggest draw; according to Honolka, he gave 223 repeat performances. So perhaps the statue of Papageno that he had installed over an entrance to the Theater an der Wien was an acknowledgment of a debt of gratitude to the late composer.

Like Papageno, Schikaneder was pragmatic and self-reliant. In the end, he failed not so much because his power to create failed. He failed because increasingly sophisticated middle-class audiences -- which he helped bring into existence -- no longer found his "Schikanederei" quite so engaging.