Recently (and happy belated New Year all around, by
the way!), I was asked by a conductor – who shall remain anonymous, for his own
discretion – what it was that appealed to me so much about baroque opera. And I
explained that thanks to baroque opera and its Affektenlehre, I had a
life-changing experience; a revelation, if you want to call it that. And here,
finally, after many many months of silence, I will attempt to describe the
opera that caused this. Of course, one might ask: “Why, on Earth, is a
life-changing experience on spot number 8, rather than number 1?” Well, if the
answer to that question isn’t obvious… let me make it obvious: Clearly, an even
stronger experience lies in the first spots of the list! And let me make yet
another warning, before we move on to the actual spoilers: Though I am a
mediocre writer, not a genius, but at least I know my way around the written
word, and can write about pretty much anything, when it comes to describing an
extremely personal experience that involves a lot of emotions, the words simply
fail me. That is probably what will happen in this case as well, so, I would
beg of you, dear reader, to be less criticizing about this entry, than of any
other.
WARNING: SPOILER ALERT! IF YOU DO NOT WANT ME TO BREAK THE SPELL ABOUT
THIS PARTICULAR OPERA, CHECK IT OUT BEFORE READING ON!
In case the title of the entry isn’t making it clear
to everyone about which opera I am talking about, here it comes: it’s Ariodante! For some reason, the first
five years of the 1730’s for Handel, drew inspiration from Ariosto’s brilliant
epic “L’ Orlando Furioso”. Within three years he composed three operas based on
episodes from that poem, with his first one – “Orlando” – being a flop, because
the composer decided to stretch the boundaries of opera seria and music to the
extremes, thus alienating his audience and his company! Obviously, “Orlando” is
considered a groundbreaking composition by today’s musicologists… But, and even
though I have seen a pretty awesome production of this particular opera,
“Orlando” is not my concern here. In my mind it falls under the category of
light entertainment, despite its’ mad scene and sci-fi themes.
Let me start by summarizing the plot in a simple and
concise way: Act 1 plays out in the castle of the King of Scotland. His
daughter, Ginevra, is courted by the Duke of Albany, Polinesso, a real badass
and a noble knight, Ariodante. Needless to say, Ginevra despises the first one
and is in love with the second. Thankfully, Ariodante reciprocates the feeling
and because the King is also happy with this union, preparations are being made
to marry the happy couple. Of course, Polinesso has other plans, and he uses
the blind love of lady-in-waiting Dalinda, to make sure Ariodante gets out of
the way. This unhappy woman is on her turn being courted by Lurcanio,
Ariodante’s brother. Just as his sibling, Lurcanio is honorable and noble and
he too truly loves Dalinda, but, as is the case, she sends him packing… Anyway,
Act 1 concludes with dance and relatively happy music, as the lovers prepare
for the wedding that is to take place on the next day. Act 2 then begins
outside a secret passage to Ginevra’s apartment, where Ariodante is waiting,
unable to sleep. At this point Polinesso comes and mocks him, telling him that
Ginevra is only pretending to love him and that, in truth, she prefers the
Duke. Ariodante doesn’t believe him, but when the Duke enters the Princesses’
apartment and is welcomed with… warm feelings, the world shatters around
Ariodante. Lurcanio also chances by this scene – which begs the question of how
secret this passage to Ginevra’s apartment truly is – and tries to convince his
brother not to commit suicide. He takes the latter’s sword away and leaves him
alone in his desperation – which is yet another extremely clever thing to do,
right? Ariodante disappears into the night, with thoughts of suicide still
circling in his head. The next morning arrives and the news of Ariodante’s
death reach the King of Scotland. He fears for his daughter’s wellbeing, but
Lurcanio arrives and accuses Ginevra of infidelity, thus explaining the sudden
urge of Ariodante to leave the country and perish at sea. Again, how it is
possible to find a ship in the middle of the night ready to disembark, get on
it, then have witnesses to the ship’s destruction in a storm, eludes me, but
that is opera seria for you! Anyway, the King is flabbergasted by this
accusation, but unfortunately he has to uphold the law and therefore places
Ginevra under arrest, without explaining exactly why he is doing this. Ginevra,
is of course innocent and understands nothing. She only knows that Ariodante is
dead and she is being accused of a crime she didn’t commit, because – and here
comes the clue – the “Ginevra” Ariodante thought he saw the previous night, was
in fact Dalinda, dressed up as Ginevra. The act closes with Ginevra having
nightmares. The third Act then begins by the seashore, where – surprise,
surprise – the tormented hero is washed out by the sea, because not even the
gods are willing to let Ariodante perish. He does demand an explanation from
them, but they remain mysteriously silent; only dropping Dalinda in his path,
who is being chased by two bad guys, intent on killing her. They obviously work
for the Duke. Ariodante sends them packing, Dalinda is thankful and reveals
everything and a rejoicing Ariodante takes the unhappy woman with him and they
go to the palace. There, Polinesso appears as Ginevra’s champion against
Lurcanio, hoping thus to win both the woman and the throne – not necessarily in
that order. Again however, since Polinesso is in the wrong, Lurcanio subdues
him, at which point a mysterious knight in shining armor appears wanting to
defend Ginevra’s honor as well. But, Polinesso does the right thing in the end
and just before he draws his last breath manages to confess the whole plot to
the King’s confidante. The mysterious knight is none other than Ariodante –
where he got the armor I do not know, because he wasn’t wearing it when he
emerged from the sea! Happily the King declares his daughter innocent and
leaves with Ariodante to the dungeons to free her. Lurcanio and Dalinda linger
a while behind and in their sweet final scene we see that there is hope for
them yet. Ariodante is reunited with Ginevra, their torments are past and all
happily sing and dance of the joys of chaste and honorable love that defeats
all evil! Happy endings all around us!
Well, that was that. The very simple plot, that is so
see-through we know from the very first bar what is to happen. Good guy vs. bad
guy; good guy wins and marries the trophy wife. End of story. So, what’s so
special about this particular rendition of the all-to-familiar tale? Obviously,
the music. It has a very dark and highly ironic character and the drama and
pain of every hero is described magnificently through every aria. From
Ginevra’s very first arioso, to Lurcanio’s and Dalinda’s final duet, no
character is left undefined. And while one could even compartmentalize the
heroes according to their music – Ariodante, Lurcanio, Ginevra and the King
being the righteous ones, as opposed to Polinesso and Dalinda representing
deceit – every individual has his own voice. The characterization is simply
fantastic, with both the libretto and the music working towards a common goal:
representing human passions in the most realistic of ways (no, it is not
verismo yet!).
Still, even that, some might argue, has been achieved
in a much better way by other composers. So, again, what is it that makes this
opera so important to me? Apart from the fact that all art is a totally
subjective kind of thing, it is the main protagonist of this particular story
that is so very intriguing. Obviously he is the dream guy even I would accept
to marry… He is honorable, valorous, truthful and a courteous lover. He is not
interested in power and is reluctant to accept it – which makes him all the
better. And – in my dreams of course – he is also extremely good looking! *
Side note to self: Though many counter-tenors have sung this part, curiously,
it is the mezzos that actually bring it to life for me. And when those mezzos
have the looks of a Vesselina Kasarova or a Joyce DiDonato… well… I’d flip for
them for sure! * And then, there is this tiny (ehem) little (ehem ehem) aria he
sings at the beginning of act 2, that simply blows my mind away every single
time I hear it.
In order to explain this feeling, I must make a
digression. Before my experience with Ariodante
in Munich, I had seen a number of operas since my childhood – even some one
might consider slightly odd for a kid, like Lucia
di Lammermoor (twice) or The Turn of
the Screw. And I loved every crazy part of it – especially the death
scenes. I mean, what can be more hilarious than the protagonist being stabbed
to death and singing and singing and singing, without dying and then,
eventually, drawing a last breath. Hilarious! No matter the music! So, this
(mis)conception of mine made it impossible for me to feel during the opera. I
simply expected the death scene, in order to delight in its absurdity. I never
ever expected to be blown away by an opera, to be moved to tears by a hero,
simply because I only saw the (tragi)comedy in the drama.
Enter Ariodante and his “Scherza infida”. That was
that. The most simple of arias – because it is simple in every way – turned my
whole world upside down. The simplicity of the orchestration, the numb melody
on the bassoon (a brilliant choice by Handel by the way), the breath like
accompaniment on the strings throughout the first section, the dynamic, elegiac
tone of the second section, the – usually – very slow performance rhythm the
conductors choose for it; all these things amass to an unexpected explosion of
emotions in the attentive and open listeners’ soul. Add to that the truly
sublime performance of Ann Murray that night and you can only begin to
understand what I went through for fifteen minutes! I was a wreck, literally,
when she finished. I couldn’t move, I was crying and applauding at the same
time, I wanted this to never end, I wanted to stay in that moment for ever. And
Ariodante wasn’t even dying in that scene! Hell, no, he returned triumphant and
victorious; but not before singing yet another gripping piece of music: the
sublime “Numi! Lasciarmi vivere?” a violent and accusing arioso towards the
unkind gods, who refuse to allow the hero to perish. In Ariodante’s case, of
course, the gods know better… Just as the listener does. Tragic irony in its
best form. Simply glorious.
So, yes, a life changing experience at the opera house
it was (hm, I should refrain from playing “Angry Birds: Star Wars” so often,
I’m channeling Master Yoda…) An experience which, apart from opening my eyes to
a whole new world and my ears to the magical world of baroque opera altogether,
has had the added effect that I cannot go to the opera anymore and not cry.
Even in comedies… I get crying at “La Traviata”, but crying at “Le nozze di
Figaro” shouldn’t happen, right? Oh, well, I don’t care. And why should I?
Opera is, after all, the greatest art form mankind has ever produced – and the
goal is exactly that: to move people to tears and laughter, through the
combination of music and word. There’s no shame in crying when something is so
divinely said. And God knows Handel had mastered the trick of moving people to
tears, whenever he felt like it…
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