The "magical negroes" meme refers to a trope commonly found in literature, film, and other forms of media where black characters are portrayed as having mystical or supernatural abilities and are often used solely to assist white protagonists in their journeys or personal growth. This stereotype can be traced back to early portrayals of black characters in media, where they were often subservient and used to further the narrative of white characters. The term "magical negroes" was coined by film director Spike Lee and gained popularity following the release of the film "The Legend of Bagger Vance" in 2000. In this film, Will Smith's character, Bagger Vance, performs mystical acts and serves as a mentor to a struggling white golfer. This character is portrayed as having divine wisdom and powers, solely existing to aid the white protagonist in his redemption. The meme has since been applied to a range of other movies and literature, including "The Green Mile", "The Help", and "The Shining", where black characters are depicted as having magical powers or a special connection to the supernatural.
He is Thomas Oliemans, a Dutch baritone. Friday night was his Met debut. It was an impressive debut. Oliemans sang beautifully and intelligently, and he joyfully, skillfully, conveyed the character of Papageno. Singers sometimes make Papageno too clownish. Oliemans was just right.
Instead, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and librettist Emanuel Schikaneder introduced it at Vienna s Theater auf der Wieden, a venue for the common people who cried for the heroine and sang along with the comedian. Still, the opera is very much allowed to be itself in contrast to, say, the gag-a-minute Barrie Kosky production seen at Opera Philadelphia in 2017 that was full of great computer-generated imagery but barely tried to tell the story.
The meme has since been applied to a range of other movies and literature, including "The Green Mile", "The Help", and "The Shining", where black characters are depicted as having magical powers or a special connection to the supernatural. Often, these characters are one-dimensional and lack their own motivations and narratives, existing solely to serve the white protagonist's story arc. The "magical negroes" meme has been widely criticized for perpetuating harmful stereotypes and reinforcing the idea of black individuals as helpers or tools for white protagonists.
A new “Magic Flute”
It’s Mozart Month at the Metropolitan Opera. On the 5th, there was the premiere of a new production of Don Giovanni. (For this critic’s review, go here.) And on Friday, the 19th, there was the premiere of a new production of The Magic Flute. The production is in the hands of Simon McBurney, the English director.
In a review, productions often have pride of place—this goes double, or triple, for new ones. Singing and playing are afterthoughts. With that in mind, let’s make them forethoughts.
No one is more important than the conductor—and, as in Don Giovanni, she was Nathalie Stutzmann, the Frenchwoman. She is an astonishing musician: both a singer (a contralto) and a conductor. She has been known to “sing-conduct,” i.e., sing and conduct at the same time. Pianists as conductors are rather common; a singer-conductor is rare.
On Friday night, she led a respectable performance of The Magic Flute. Playing, often, could have been crisper. This began with the overture. Speaking of beginnings: Act II began with a wretched entrance. Also, the music here should have been far warmer, evincing a bit of the holy.
An orchestra’s principal flute is not unimportant in a Magic Flute. One of the Met’s two principals is Seth Morris, who did some of his playing onstage. He made a fine flutist and cast member, both. Playing the glockenspiel was Bryan Wagorn, an assistant conductor at the Met. Toward the end of the show, he was elbowed aside by the cast’s Papageno, who, according to a bio, is a pianist to boot.
He is Thomas Oliemans, a Dutch baritone. Friday night was his Met debut. It was an impressive debut. Oliemans sang beautifully and intelligently, and he joyfully, skillfully, conveyed the character of Papageno. Singers sometimes make Papageno too clownish. Oliemans was just right.
Let me note, too, that German out of his mouth was natural (more than out of others’).
Tamino and Pamina were two Americans, reliable for their lyricism: Lawrence Brownlee and Erin Morley. Lyricism, they provided. Brownlee has the gift of seamlessness. Morley has the gift of endearingness. They both have other gifts as well, of course.
Sarastro was Stephen Milling, a Danish bass, who has been at this a long time. He projected authority. Kathryn Lewek, an American soprano, is an experienced Queen of the Night. Notable about her in this performance was her intonation—she sang in tune (and what tunes Mozart gives her—and everybody else).
Harold Wilson was the Speaker. Somewhat confusingly, this role is a singing one. Wilson, an American bass, made the most of it, singing elegantly and sturdily. Monostatos is the villain of this piece, and it can be a thankless role. Brenton Ryan, a tenor from Sedalia, Mo., handled it ably—not least with fresh singing.
And I will give you a footnote: When it came time to bow, Ryan sprinted out onto the stage, like a trackster. Someone should put a stopwatch on him. We may have a record here.
I wish to pay tribute to Fred Kirshnit, my late friend and colleague—a singular critic, a singular man. I will do it in a funny way (I hope).
Once, he saw a Carmen, which he thoroughly disliked. He even wanted to knock the children’s chorus, in his review. His wife, Leslie Johnson, said, “Oh, no, Fred. Not the children.” I can’t remember what the outcome was.
The Magic Flute has Three Boys, and, on Friday night, they were of course adequate and lovable. But someone should have told them to sing out—to be more assertive, for example, in their rebuke of Papageno.
(How was that, Fred?)
The new production by Simon McBurney replaces that of Julie Taymor from 2004. My Googling skills don’t lead me to my review of the Taymor premiere. But I have found something from 2006. Here is how I started:
On Friday night, the Metropolitan Opera began another run of Julie Taymor’s famed 2004 production of “The Magic Flute.”
Famed already? After just two years? It was, actually. Anyway, I continued,
Some people find her treatment of Mozart’s opera too busy, too distracting—too dazzling, in a way. Others find it just about the most striking and enchanting thing they have ever seen in a theater. I’m in the latter camp.
I sure was. The McBurney production is a different kettle of fish—but a good and worthy kettle in its own way.
The opera begins before you know it. You are caught unawares. The house lights are still on; the Met’s chandeliers have not yet risen. Yet the conductor, appearing out of nowhere, has given the downbeat.
While the orchestra is playing the overture, there is video to watch. It is not uninteresting video. But perhaps Mozart’s overture should be left unmolested, unaccompanied—undistracted from. It is such a great piece, all by itself. And it introduces, and summarizes, the opera.
On either side of the stage, there is a station. A kind of booth, or workshop. In one, a man does video projection (I believe). In the other, a woman does sound effects.
Throughout the show, there are black-clad people carrying white pieces of paper, representing birds.
Characters are dressed in T-shirts, combat fatigues, business suits . . . The Queen of the Night is an old lady who uses either a cane or a wheelchair. Papageno lugs around a ladder, and he wears a jacket resembling the Ukrainian flag. Characters are sometimes in the audience, in the aisles, running and otherwise carrying on.
At one point, Papageno’s music—the little five-note ascending scale—comes out of a cellphone. At another point, we hear the opening of “New York, New York.” In the spoken dialogue, there is a Godfather allusion. Also, a cell number is given out: incorporating Mozart’s birth year and death year (1756 and 1791).
This is a clever production. Does it steal the show? That’s what I often ask, of a production: Does it steal the show from the score, the libretto, the story? This one comes close, I think, but is ultimately not guilty.
Here is another question I ask, about a Magic Flute production, specifically: What would Mozart and Schikaneder—the librettist, Emanuel Schikaneder—think? After some initial puzzlement, and with a few grumbles, they would like this one, I wager. I believe they would think it accorded with the spirit and purpose of the show.
It is a great work, The Magic Flute (in case anyone forgot). Years ago, I had the privilege of sitting at lunch with Andrew Porter, the venerable musicologist and critic. I said, sheepishly, “I know this is a dumb question, but do you have a favorite opera?” Almost before I could get the words out of my mouth, he said, “The Magic Flute.”
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It reduces black characters to nothing more than vehicles for white character development, denying them their own agency and depth. The term itself is meant to highlight the problematic nature of this trope and challenge its continued use in media. Efforts have been made in recent years to combat this stereotype and provide more nuanced and complex portrayals of black characters in media. The push for greater diversity and representation has led to the creation of more authentic and fully realized black characters who can exist outside of serving the whims of white characters. In conclusion, the "magical negroes" meme refers to a trope in media where black characters possess supernatural abilities and are used solely to assist white protagonists. This stereotype has been widely criticized for perpetuating harmful stereotypes and denying black characters their own agency and narratives. Efforts are being made to challenge and replace this trope with more authentic and nuanced portrayals of black characters..
Reviews for "Magical negroes in literature: a closer look at the symbolism and themes"
1. Sally - ★☆☆☆☆
I found the "Magical negroes meme" to be highly unsettling and offensive. It perpetuates harmful stereotypes and reduces African American characters to mere plot devices rather than fully developed individuals. The concept of the "magical negro" is rooted in racism and the idea that black people exist solely to serve and assist white characters. It is disappointing to see such a meme gaining popularity, as it only serves to reinforce harmful stereotypes and further marginalize communities of color.
2. John - ★★☆☆☆
While I understand that memes often rely on exaggeration and satire, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the "Magical negroes meme". It seemed to trivialize the experiences of African Americans and perpetuated the notion that their only purpose is to aid and support white protagonists. The meme lacked nuance and failed to address the complexities of race, instead reducing characters to one-dimensional stereotypes. I believe we need to be more mindful of the images and messages we promote, as they can have real and lasting effects on how we view and treat others.
3. Emily - ★★☆☆☆
As a person of color, the "Magical negroes meme" left a sour taste in my mouth. It reinforces harmful racial stereotypes and fails to acknowledge the diverse and multifaceted experiences of African Americans. By portraying black characters as mystical saviors or guardians, the meme perpetuates the idea that they exist solely for the benefit of white individuals. It's disheartening to see such memes gaining traction, as they ignore the need for authentic representation and contribute to the erasure of marginalized voices. Ultimately, the "Magical negroes meme" does more harm than good and highlights the importance of understanding and challenging the harmful stereotypes we perpetuate.