T-8: Wagner-rok

So, this is new! Completing an entry twice in one month! But I think I can explain the urge: it feels like every day might be the end of the world, kind of. All you have to do is go to a news channel and read the news. Somehow it seems that we are only one tweet away from a nuclear holocaust, so, I guess, since I have nothing else to leave behind, at least I should try and finish this list. And, my subject today speaks of a doomsday, so it is somewhat fitting. And by saying that, I have already spoiled the story for everyone, so today, breaking with tradition, I will not warn you about spoilers.

The other week I went to see “Thor: Ragnarok”, which was a very pleasant film, even though the subject is not. And it reminded me of a beautiful scene from “Penny Dreadful” (canceled after three seasons and just as things were really heating up) between Vanessa and Cat (yet another phenomenal casting of both characters, with chemistry that went through the roof, but cancellation…) where the newly introduced thanatologist Cat (played by Perdita Weeks, who, next to Sasha Alexander’s Maura Isles somehow succeeded in making death sound sexy) enlightens Vanessa Ives thusly: “The end of days is the one universal constant in thanatology. All men… all cultures that have ever trod the earth, have foreseen the apocalypse. But, no matter the language, the drama always ends the same way: the curtain falls on a stage bedecked with bodies and there is nothing but silence, and Death holds all dominion.” Which, in essence, is what happens in Richard Wagner’s fourth installment of his Ring-Tetralogy “Götterdämmerung”. Now, I will not go into details about what happens in this opera, because this, along with pretty much everything that Wagner has composed, I truly hate. I will however advise you to watch the following video of Anna Russell, who was a brilliant performer and could make even Wagner sound fun!

Now, here’s the deal: As I’ve mentioned, I hate Wagner. And I know I am not alone. Wagner is one of those things that are black or white – there is no in-between. Or is there? If Wagner were alive today, he would probably be considered a perverted eccentric with anti-Semitic views. But, aside from his very problematic character and position in the history of music, one has to acknowledge a few contributions he made: first of all, no movie soundtrack (especially the ones that accompany science-fiction and historical epics) would ever exist – and, yes, one iconic scene of film would also not exist without Wagner’s input (https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=apocalypse+now+helicopter+attack). He also solidified the musical idea of the “theme song”, officially called the “leitmotiv” and used it extensively in his operas.

Barring these accomplishments, Wagner’s operas – because let’s face it, that’s pretty much everyone knows of him (the Wesendonck cycle being a possible exception) – are terrible on a number of points. First, and this is quite surprising, since he was such an ardent lover of the fair sex, his female characters are incredibly weak and stupid. Even Brünnhilde, the infamous Valkyrie, doesn’t come off unscathed, especially in the third and fourth installments of the Ring cycle. And what’s with the name “Elisabeth” and its variants? From a man who fell in love with a “Cosima”, one might expect more when it comes to naming his female protagonists! And don’t get me started on his male heroes… They are the absolute epitome of the patriarchy and those that fall through the cracks (just the one, really, Tannhäuser) are no fun, at all! They demand fidelity from their women, they hate change (and those that try to promote it, are clear misfits, e.g. “Meistersinger von Nürnberg” plot, and yes I know that Wagner saw himself as the misfit in this plot) and they are cunning, cruel and pure egotistical bastards – essentially, Wagner himself. Then, of course, we have the poetry, which Wagner wrote himself, because no one could do it better (or so he thought). As a result, his operas, even the early ones, easily clock at a three and a half hours of music, because Wagner had never heard of an editor… As for the plots themselves, well, you saw the video with Anna Russell – it doesn’t get any better, believe me.

Now, here’s the deal: Wagner may have been a lousy human being (he was), but he was a talented composer. The problem I have with his music, however, is that for the really phenomenal moments, you have to wait for a very long time. Case in point: “Götterdämmerung”. If there is one piece of orchestral music that contains all the gravitas and pain of death in it, then it is the funeral march for Siegfried. I mean, even I get misty eyed and goosebumps when I listen to it! Forget about the silly plot, the moment this starts playing, all you can do is let yourself go in its darkness.

So, there you have it: Wagner makes the “end of days” sound… important, I guess? But this excerpt (and a few others) will never make me like him, period.

T-9 Dry Spell

Well, hello there! This is your unreliable blogger returning after more than a year of silence. Do I have any serious excuses as to why this dry spell lasted this long? No. Also, believe it or not, since my last entry, my circumstances have not changed one bit. Boring, right? Or convenient, you choose. Anyway, I will not go into details, because there are none at this point and instead jump right back into my countdown of operas I love to hate. Today I present to you W. A. Mozart’s singspiel “Die Zauberflöte” or for the readers not versed in the German language “The Magic Flute”. The usual disclaimer follows…

SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT!

Now that’s out of the way, let’s dive right in, shall we? (Stupid) Young and (usually) good-looking prince is being chased by a giant serpent (stage directors always have interesting takes on that one…) Even though he is a prince, however, he clearly never paid any attention at “serpent killing 101” at the prince academy, because he faints, instead of fighting. Not a very princely attitude, am I right? To his great humiliation, he is rescued by three women, who immediately faun over him as he lies there, unconscious and shitting his pants (ok, not, he doesn’t do that, but he did faint). Eventually, the three mysterious ladies leave and all of a sudden a bird-man appears out of nowhere. He is even less useful than the prince, by the way, but he does provide a great deal of comic relief throughout the plot, so we will excuse his incompetence. Anyway, the prince, Tamino his name, comes to and believes that the bird-man, who goes by the name Papageno, is his rescuer. Papageno does not deny that feat, which causes the three ladies to punish him for lying by putting a lock on his mouth (wouldn’t that be a wonderful way to punish all liars?) They then proceed to explain to Tamino that their Queen, ominously named the Queen of Night, is in dire need of a prince such as himself to go rescue her daughter, Pamina, out of the clutches of an evil mastermind who has kidnapped her. They show him a painting of said Pamina and (surprise, surprise) Tamino falls immediately in love with her and vows to free her from the monster that has her captured. Do you see the pattern here? Spineless prince suddenly gets infatuated with a painting and grows his balls! He clearly never heard of online dating before, where we all know that what you see isn’t necessarily what you get… Anyway, let’s make a long story short: Sarastro – said monster – is only trying to protect Pamina from her evil mother, even though he is a) not her father and b) clearly hates women in general; Pamina is pursued by Monostatos, a very politically incorrect by today’s standards depiction of a black man; both Pamina and Papageno attempt suicide at one point, but both of their attempts are foiled by three young boys whose only use in this story is to be the deus ex machina; curiously, the magic flute that Tamino is given by the Queen of the Night is the only thing that can protect him from the final tasks he has to go through, in order to become “worthy” and enter into the service of Isis and Osiris (and marry Pamina obviously). As our German friends would say: “Ende gut, alles gut!” or “And they lived happily ever after!”

Now, don’t get me wrong: Like any other opera lover, “Die Zauberflöte” was one of the very first operatic experiences I had. If my memory serves me right, it was the second opera I saw as a child. And since then, I have seen it many other times in various productions. My favorite is an old one by August Everding in Munich – a very traditional staging, but always entertaining and enjoyable. But as I grow older and become more and more involved in the idea of a strong female representation in every aspect of human life, I cannot ignore the blatant attacks the female antagonists suffer at the hand of the male protagonists.

The plot is clearly divided in dualities: Man vs. Woman, Light vs. Dark, Good vs. Evil. Let’s examine Man vs. Woman. In terms of strength, the female heroes come out as stronger, especially when it comes to using one’s intellect. It is telling that in the task of silence that Tamino and Papageno must go through, it is the women that break the silence. Of course, one is meant to interpret this scene as the first step of Tamino’s success and Papageno's failure (but keep in mind that Papageno never asked to be involved in this rescue mission in the first place – he is an unwilling participant); it proves Tamino's resoluteness to join Sarastro’s ranks. But why must he remain silent? Nothing was ever accomplished by staying silent – only in activities that are traditionally associated with men, such as hunting and war, is silence gold. By not discussing things, however, civilization does not move forward. Language is a founding stone of civilization and by demanding its negation as a task, Sarastro essentially ensures that the men he allows in his ranks, can obey him, without questioning his authority. Isn’t such a despotic behavior what has brought mankind to the place it is today?

Light vs. Dark then. Clearly, the men are supposed to represent the light and the women the dark. But, apart from actually naming the Queen, “Queen of the Night”, and the revenge aria she sings in the second act, we are never given any reason to believe that she is truly dark (maybe slightly megalomaniac, but not dark). In fact, her ladies in waiting rescue Tamino from his serpent problem. By contrast, the light side of the men is terrifyingly dark. Not only must one undergo terrible tasks in order to be accepted into the ranks of Sarastro’s disciples (keeping quiet for a few hours is actually not as bad as having to go through fire and water), the kindness that supposedly is extended to every man living in the temple, is withheld from Monostatos, who is punished by Sarastro. Yes, he did attempt to rape Pamina, but it is questionable that Sarastro would have done the same if Monostatos had in fact been white. Oh, and, by the way, Monostatos’ libido reaches such extremes only because Sarastro excludes women from his temple…

Finally, there is the ever present division of Good vs. Evil. Let me just lay out a few facts and I will let you decide what is good and evil here: Sarastro kidnaps Pamina from her mother (undisputed fact, confirmed even by one of Sarastro’s disciples); Sarastro excludes women from his temple, because he equates them all with his rival, the Queen of the Night (yet kidnaps Pamina from her); the Queen of the Night demands that Pamina kill Sarastro in her name and if she fails, she will disown her; both Sarastro and the Queen of the Night lie to Tamino about the other. Think about those facts for a moment…

There is one thing that most people fail to see and that has to do with Pamina’s origin. Her father was the leader of the cult before Sarastro. He had a daughter with the Queen of the Night. He was also the one that actually built the magic flute, which he entrusts in the care of the Queen for the off chance that someone might need it to go through the fire and water tasks. Sarastro kidnaps Pamina because he feels he has a debt to repay to her father somehow. And in the end, the magic flute provides protection to both Pamina and Tamino as they go through the fire and water tasks. It all starts with him, because at the time of his death, he says to the Queen that her place is to obey "wise men". He leaves everything he owns to her, except the source of his power, essentially rendering her powerless. It comes as no surprise that the Queen then searches for that power elsewhere.

Here’s the deal: Most everyone knows that Schikaneder and Mozart wrote this opera and (allegedly) exposed a ton of secrets of the Freemasons, which they both belonged to. And it is only for nitpickers such as myself, who enjoy trying to discover the other side, to ruin a perfectly good singspiel for everyone else. Because that’s what it is: a sing – spiel. A game! The “Magic Flute” will never win the award for most logical and concise plot structure. Does it make you feel good when you listen to it? Absolutely, because it’s Mozart. Should you keep in mind that the characters are not perfect and by today's standards fail on a number of scales? Definitely! And is it wrong to feel your blood rush through your body as the Queen sputters out her infamous aria? No, go right ahead! These are just a few of the reasons why “Die Zauberflöte” will always have a place in the repertoire…