Let me just start by saying this: I
do not know how I first came to know Richard Strauss. He is not a composer
whose work (operatic or otherwise) you get to hear often in Greece in general,
let alone my tiny hometown (which can brag about having one state symphony
orchestra, but not the endurance to play or hear Strauss). So, truly, I do not
know what tipped the scale towards him. Was it an opera? Some of his lieder?
One of his more famous symphonic works? I wish that I could answer all these
questions. But I can’t. It wasn’t part of my familiar environment either. I
mean, we did not sit during lunch at home and say: “Let’s put some Strauss on!”
Nope! And I know for a fact that my father, for example, isn’t really a fan. My
mother is an altogether different story, in that she studied musicology under
one of the most renowned Strauss experts in Germany and maintains contact with
him even today! But this doesn’t mean that she is as crazy about the guy as I
am either. So, it’s just me. And to me it feels as if this was always this way
– as if from the very beginning I shared a connection with the great master.
And that’s enough explanation for me. Some things are better left undisturbed.
This is one of them.
By now the only thing you might have
extrapolated from this opening soliloquy is that I am going to talk about an
opera by Richard Strauss. And you would be right! Finally – some of the more
observant of you might even add; considering that it is 2014 and a Strauss
anniversary and I haven’t yet made any comments about him. That is about to
change with today’s contribution (and, who knows, we still have one more number
to go, or don’t we?) You might guess as to my choice too. There are quite a few
operas that might come into question actually (I wouldn’t be a true Strauss
fan, if I didn’t like them pretty much all), but really only two are the
absolute contestants for this list. I’ll be revealing the first one today. The
other will have to wait – by the way, this was a major spoiler alert as to what
lies on top of the list, but who pays any attention anyway?
THIS TIME I AM NOT GOING TO WARN YOU
ABOUT TAKING THE TIME TO WATCH THE OPERA FIRST AND COME BACK LATER,
and the reason for that is quite
simple: according to a very fine German book called „Der einzig wahre
Opernführer“, Ariadne auf Naxos (which
is the subject matter of this post) has no significant plot whatsoever. Which
in turns is extremely wrong, but the book is a funny book and when it says that
there is no significant plot whatsoever, it simply means that the plot is so
convoluted and writhe with hidden messages that you cannot possibly begin to
explain it in just a few lines. That is the truth of the thing and for this
reason I will not give any plot summaries this time. Take a moment (well, about
one hour and a half to be exact) to watch the opera first, in case you haven’t
already and then come back.
Today I will try something
different. Instead of analyzing the plot in terms of its occurrence, I will
give a very personal insight into why this opera means so much to me, through
its core characters. Then, if all goes well, I will address some key questions
this brilliant piece of theatre poses and hopefully I will reach some kind of a
conclusion. I have to apologize upfront for any inconvenience this post might
cause to you, my dear readers, because today it will get very personal and I
don’t do well at subjects that are close to my heart.
The first character that needs to be
mentioned is the Composer. His onstage presence and music in the libretto take
up about 15 minutes of the whole thing. One might say that he is a minor
character in terms of the time allotted to his person. But that would be an
understatement of the grandest proportions ever! In the magically crafted text
by Hofmannsthal, these 15 minutes are more than enough to explore the depths of
a truly tragic hero, who, in a sense is the first original emo (I doubt that
most emos out there are even aware of that…) The Composer is a trouser role.
Strauss composed it for a soprano and the original cast of 1916 had Lotte
Lehmann personifying the part. Today, it is usually mezzos who take up the
challenge, which kind of makes sense. My personal favorites from my generation
of singers are Daniela Sindram and Sophie Koch. But that is enough advertising
for the moment, back to the character. The Composer is, by all appearances, the
typical antisocial, secluded, totally emotional and sensitive archetype of an
artist. He is aloof, does not understand how the world around him operates and
his only motivation for doing what he does is his commitment to Music. His only
friend is his mentor, who makes sure his pupil gets a commission. He is a
loner. But he craves for human affection and most importantly, love. He just
doesn’t know it yet. His worldview includes only one thing: Music and at the beginning
of the Prologue (I will get back to that part later on), he is frustrated that
no one understands the importance of his composition. His appearance in the
beginning is quite comical and emphasizes in a very eloquent way his lack of
worldly experience. The Composer treads in uncharted waters and what is most
striking about this experience is his honesty about everything. Obviously this
honesty gets misunderstood by everyone around him, because the real world is
not accustomed to honest people. There are two turning points: the first one
comes with the realization that he has to compromise in order to see his work
performed and the second one when he meets the comedienne.
Accepting compromise is a painful
process for him. He does it very reluctantly and in the end (which end though?)
he regrets it altogether. His dramatic recount of a prophecy received as a
child testifies to that painful realization. The Composer sees things in black
and white – there are no in between shades for him. What he believes to be
right, must necessarily, in his opinion, represent the view of every single
person in the world. His venture into society forces him to see that things are
not this way. His pure imagination becomes tainted by the corrupt system of the
aristocracy and all that goes with it. His ideals receive a fateful blow. But,
instead of making this a tragic story about a person unable to cope with
society, Strauss and Hofmannsthal do one better: in the Composer there is hope.
It is never openly expressed nor do we actually see it fulfilled. But the hope
is there for two reasons: first, because he never loses his faith in Music as
the holiest of things and second, because for a brief moment he finds Love
(that brief moment is open to interpretation by the various directors who have
staged this work throughout the years; I’ll come back to that point as well).
This finding of Love is the second
turning point, mentioned above. The Composer’s meeting with Zerbinetta, the
young girl who sings and dances and fucks through life, theatre and men is one
of the sweetest, yet at the same time most heartbreaking moments in the history
of opera. If the Composer is the absolute symbol of an antisocial hero,
Zerbinetta is the exact opposite. She knows everybody, is known by everybody
and has a very cheery disposition. Essentially these two are the two sides of a
single coin – and that is why, theoretically speaking, they would make the
perfect couple. Opposites attract, obviously and this situation here is no
exception. But while Zerbinetta has a larger-than-life kind of on stage
existence and spreads her antics through both the Prologue and the actual
opera, the Composer is left behind (or is he?).
Zerbinetta is the second most
important character in this play. For one because she is there from beginning
to end. She also has the showpiece aria of the opera – a pyrotechnical scene
that requires brilliant coloratura, perfect timing and an accomplished actress
– which has been called by Diana Damrau “the Mount Everest of coloratura
sopranos”. Diana Damrau is one of those rare performers who make the role of
Zerbinetta their own and I am truly glad I got to see her perform this live in
what is arguably the greatest interpretation of this work ever made (more on
that later). Now, as I have already mentioned, Zerbinetta is a comedienne and
someone who has a very open minded stance towards romance and relationships. In
the words of the Dance Master, she has no problem in improvising her appearance,
because she always plays herself, which, as it turns out is true. Let me say
here, however, that Ariadne auf Naxos is
an extremely complex work and it would be unfair to its heroines to limit them
to such comments only. In typical Strauss-Hofmannsthal fashion, this work is
about change, about the potential of transformation within each of us, the
ability to realize our true self, through experience. The Composer undergoes
such a change, as mentioned already. But does Zerbinetta follow on that line or
is she truly a one sided character, who only plays herself?
Depending on the staging, the answer
to this question varies. There are two reasons for that. The first is her
central scene in the Prologue with the Composer. In that she “confesses” to him
that in truth she is a lonely individual who puts on a smile and faces life
that way, making everyone around her believe she is always happy and satisfied.
But can this “confession” (the “” both times are consciously placed around the
word) be accepted as an honest one or is it a cleverly employed trick she uses
on the Composer, to convince him to accept the changes in his work? The scene
is way too short to provide us with a definitive answer. Therefore, there are a
number of ways to interpret this. One way is to see the Prologue and the
ensuing opera as one work, in which case Zerbinetta’s great aria in the opera
negates her “confession” and proves the Dance Master’s statement. In this case,
Zerbinetta’s scene with the Composer in the Prologue is a clever trick – she
knows what kind of power she exacts on men, and uses that to fool the Composer
into believing she actually might have feelings for him, when in truth she only
wants the play to get going, so that she doesn’t lose her paycheck. That is the
absolute realistic and opportunistic reading of this scene. The second way is
again to see Prologue and Opera as one, but this time to really open the doors
for a possible romance between the two characters. In such readings, the
Composer usually remains on stage, even though the Prologue has ended and his
presence is not mentioned throughout the rest of the opera. In this second
reading, Zerbinetta is truthful about herself and reveals herself to be more
like the Composer and less than a femme fatale. If you believe in fairy tales
and happy endings, then this is the way for you to interpret this scene.
Finally, there is the third way, which is to remain entirely faithful to the
text and separate Prologue and Opera altogether. In that case, what Zerbinetta
says afterwards in her big scene in the opera, has no bearing in her scene with
the Composer and therefore that scene is just a small, but beautiful – in
musical and textual means – blip. The Prologue represents real life, the Opera
the illusion. But, doesn’t Zerbinetta always portray herself according to the
Dance Master?
In order to fully explore
Zerbinetta’s change – if indeed there is one – we have to consider her showcase
scene in the opera itself. Considering that she has only two major scenes in
total – the one with the Composer and the one in the opera – it is important to
see the scene in relation to the other characters on stage at the time. I have
already gone into the first scene in detail. Here, Zerbinetta’s counterpart is
Ariadne, the protagonist of the Composer’s opera. But, in contrast to the first
scene with the Composer, where both characters express themselves, here Ariadne
remains silent. One way to explain this is of course to see it as an impossible
moment for Ariadne, since Zerbinetta’s intermezzo is improvised and does not
belong in the original plot. But that would be the pragmatic way of
interpreting the silence.
Let’s focus on what Zerbinetta
actually says in this scene. She begins rather playfully, even by making japes
at Ariadne. Seeing, however, that they do not bring the desired effect, she
then tries to establish a different form of connection with her, by saying that
she knows what if feels to be abandoned and that Ariadne is not the only one. And
then she says this immortal line: “Men are unfaithful!” (Do pay attention to
the exquisite changes of mood in the music itself during the entire first part
of this scene – they vary from happy-go-lucky to dramatic to playful to
painful…) But instead of continuing on the line of male unfaithfulness, she
does something even better: by accepting that as a given, she does the same to
them. She plays with men (almost) the same way men play with women and she
enjoys it immensely. Zerbinetta loves men – nothing will ever change that for
her; she cannot hold back from them. But instead of moping around when she gets
dumped for someone else, she does the dumping! Her actions are perfectly
justifiable to her. What follows is a recount of some of her amorous
adventures, delivered in a very sensual and rather explicit musical way. It is
important to note one thing here: Zerbinetta, by today’s standards would be
called a slut. But there is nothing slutty about her. Quite the contrary, she
does what she does out of conviction and – yes – love towards men. She is aware
of the fact that she is attracted by them, but instead of waiting for the
“right” one, she takes every chance she has to satisfy herself. In this we find
yet another gender barrier broken: if a man today acts the way Zerbinetta acts,
he is considered a playboy and is admired by his male peers and craved by the
ladies. The prodigious Don Juan is a positive symbol for both men and women.
However, if a woman behaves the way Zerbinetta does, even if she is unmarried,
she is immediately labeled as a slut, a whore etc. Men do not care for such
women much – oh, they do like to fuck them, obviously, but they are still
judgmental of them – and women, in their infinite jealousy, will shut someone
like that from their social circle and make everything in their power to make
sure such a person does not come anywhere near their men. Isn’t that
incredible? I believe it is. Which of course is a completely wrong
interpretation of Zerbinetta altogether, but that is what would happen were she
not a fictional character. Zerbinetta breaks gender boundaries and in her
capacity as a comedienne, she cannot be criticized by either men or women.
Her next scene, which comes right
after her big aria, is another part of the play in which she interacts with the
men in her troupe. This scene can have multiple readings as well. One, it is
the troupe’s final intersection with the drama, where they play their part of
cheering the audience up with some comic relief. Two, it continues exactly
where the previous aria left off, simply to exemplify Zerbinetta’s lose morals.
Three, it seals any open doors for the romance of Zerbinetta and the Composer,
by openly showing who Zerbinetta really is.
Zerbinetta is the most elusive
character in the play. She stands in contrast to both Composer and Prima
Donna/Ariadne. It is unclear whether she undergoes any kind of metamorphosis
throughout the opera. There is no way to pin her down. She remains a mystery
and therefore she absolutely steals the show, which is exactly what the Prima
Donna fears…
The last remaining female character
in this opera is the diva. Her character is also present in both the Prologue
and the Opera and her character is probably the easiest to interpret. First
things first: in the Prologue she acts entirely as one would expect from an
opera diva, even by today’s standards. She is extremely proud, has certain
psychological problems – namely, she needs to be the one and only and when that
is threatened, she becomes a bitch – she needs constant pampering, has no
scruples bribing people to get what she wants and generally is a master at
overreacting in the grandest of fashions (most stage directors like to have
their Primadonnas faint at a certain point in the Prologue). What this
portrayal makes of her is this: the Prima Donna does not care about the music
or the character she is about to embody, but only about her fame. Which, I suppose,
is true. There is no genuine interest on her part about the score that is being
mutilated; only about the amount of music she will end up singing (the more
music she has, the greatest impression she will make on the audience).
By the time the actual Opera begins
and she has transformed into Ariadne, the convention is simply that she is no
longer the Prima Donna, but the main character of Ariadne auf Naxos an opera by the Composer. It is exactly what
happens every night in every theatre around the world: the diva, no matter how
over- or underpaid she is, how likeable or detestable she is in real life, she
transforms into something else; usually the tragic heroine who ends up winning
the sympathies of the audience. You know what I mean, if you have listened to
even the slightest amount of scuttlebutt regarding opera singers. But there is
a problem, even here: Strauss’ music for Ariadne is so deep, only Renée
Flemming can sing it without meaning it (yes, you get it right, I do not like
Renée Flemming in Strauss – she should stick to the alternative things she
occasionally does, like that “Dark Hope” album). Take a moment to appreciate,
for example, the aria “Es gibt ein Reich” performed by THE Ariadne of the previous
generation Jessye Norman. If you do not get moved to your core by the music,
the words and the interpretation, then you do not deserve to be called a member
of the human race!
Ariadne the heroine undergoes a major change by the end of
the opera. That change is not brought on by Zerbinetta’s intermezzi, but by the
arrival of Dionysos, who, through Ariadne, realizes his divine potential. Those
last twenty minutes of the opera contain some of the most hopeful and
comforting words for every broken heart out there; and the music is simply
perfect in all its exuberance and eloquence.
By all accounts then, the Prima
Donna/Ariadne character is the least surprising in the triad. Nonetheless, she
remains the central character of this work, by being the embodiment of transformation
(a necessary feature in pretty much every Straussian opera) for the female
soul.
There are some other characters as
well; probably the most important one is the Tenor/Dionysos one. But I am being
feminist today and I will leave the male part of this opera out of this
discussion. And, let’s be honest
people, they hardly make an impression on us here! They simply are a collective
representation of the real men in our lives, ranging from kind hearted, lonely
and outright understanding to egotistical, drunk and only interested in a quick
shag (the three girls singing the Nymphs in the opera, while they have some really beautiful music written for them, do not ever become real characters, so they are not really worth mentioning).
Alright, so now that we are done
with the main – and only – characters, I suppose it is only right to address
some of the more serious questions. First and foremost, what are we to
understand under this peculiar division of the work into a Prologue and an
Opera? Fascinating, isn’t it? What one single word can do? It does not say “1st
Act” or “Introduction” or “That part which comes before the middle”, no, it
says “Prologue”. And that means the world to this work. First of all, you can
expect to get some kind of exposition in this part of the play. And indeed you
get it. Secondly, you expect to meet some of the key players of the play,
obviously. And thirdly, you expect this to be relatively short, because
prologues are usually short, otherwise they wouldn’t be prologues. Again, you
are quite right. But then the question arises: is this the kind of prologue
that is insignificant to the rest of the work, or is something occurring in
that prologue going to come back in the future of the play or is it just a
whole lot of nothing, justifying its existence simply by the brilliant and
lively music it involves? I believe I have provided with some answers to those
questions in the above “treatise”. And the one that really matters is this:
this work is entirely left to the discrete interpretation of the director (and
occasionally the opera house) involved. For example, both productions I know
from the Metropolitan Opera in New York (the old one with Jessye Norman and the
new one with Deborah Voigt, both of whom I adore) treat the work as having two
separate parts. They even have the cast members not returning for the Opera
come and take a bow at the end of the Prologue! And then there are the “European”
readings where by an overwhelming 95% the work is treated as a whole and most
of the times the Composer remains present on stage. Now, as we all know, the
Metropolitan is the absolute stronghold of puritanic and perfectly clean
performances, which means that the directorial interpretations of Ariadne auf Naxos that can be found on
DVD’s are fairly traditional. Change continents and you get all sorts of
curious stuff, with the most curious one probably being the production from
Zurich, with Elena Mosuc as Zerbinetta. It offered an interesting reading on
the relationship between the Composer and Prima Donna/Ariadne, but it was
slightly farfetched, to be perfectly honest - you can get an idea from this trailer.
All kinds of things have been done
with this work, because it is so open to interpretation and because the main
characters are so fantastically drawn. Believe me when I say that I have seen many
different productions of this particular work. Most of them not live, but
recorded, but I am quite versed on the numerous interpretations out there.
There are two that I particularly like, one of them has been released for
posterity, the other one – while there is a recording definitely, it has not
been released and that is so so terribly sad. I do hope that the Bavarian State
Opera will someday make a Blu-Ray of it, because it is the most perfect
production ever made, in my humble opinion. The first one I mean is from
Dresden with Sophie Koch as the Composer. It was an unusual staging, but
actually very fitting for our times. The idea made sense and it was not vulgar - again you can get an idea from the trailer.
The one from Munich, was a production by Robert Carsen, with a stellar cast in
its day, Adrienne Pieczonka as Prima Donna/Ariadne, Diana Damrau as Zerbinetta
and Daniela Sindram as the Composer. I will only say this: when I first saw
this production during its original run in the Summer Opera Festival of Munich
in July 2008, I left the theatre in tears and I couldn’t stop crying all the
way back home! Since then I have seen it a couple more times – no Diana Damrau
both times, but you only get that lucky once in a lifetime – and I was equally
affected. Of course by the third time, I had finally the chance to grasp
certain details concealed in the staging, that revealed Mr. Carsen’s intention
for the Composer and Zerbinetta - here is the trailer for that production as well.
It has always been a dream of mine to stage
this particular work, but after seeing this production, I am afraid that I
would never dare to go near it, for fear of making a terrible copy of this
truly fabulous production. Now, the only thing left for me and this particular
work, is to have the pleasure of experiencing Anja Harteros in the role of
Prima Donna. I firmly believe that she has the potential to be THE Ariadne of
my generation.
So, there you have it. I am sure I
have failed to answer all the questions I originally asked. But I did warn you:
this work is so close to my heart, that I cannot possibly begin to put it in
words. The only thing I can urge you to do, is to either find the closest opera
house near you performing this work and go see it, or check out some of the
past productions on the Internet. You have to have your own opinion of this
work, I’m afraid…
P.S.: The very first paragraph of
this entry was written in July 2014, during a lovely open-air concert in
Munich, that included Diana Damrau singing some of Strauss’ Lieder. I attempted
to finish the entry during August, the time when the Metropolitan was having
some serious problems with its unions and the season was in danger of being
delayed or even cancelled! I had some rather ironic remarks back then on that subject. But, since it was
impossible for me to find the words for everything else, this point became moot
and therefore, I had to rework the entry multiple times. This one, I must say,
was a real bitch!
P.S. 2: This entry has double the
length of every other entry I have made thus far. In case you missed that little
detail!
Fan Fact: Natalie Dessay and Diana
Damrau (both exceptional Zerbinetta’s) have actually performed together in a
production of Ariadne auf Naxos.
Obviously they couldn’t both be Zerbinetta at that time and Dessay was the more
famous one, so she sang Zerbinetta and Damrau was one of the Nymphs! Cool,
right?
