Domestic Violence: Carnage at the Opera




You may have read my last blog on Florence, Italy.  I did not mention that I attended the New Year’s Eve concert at the Maggio opera theater.  I noticed that Bizet’s opera Carmen was programmed for the beginning of 2018.  Its performance was a bomb to be thrown in the rarefied world of opera.  As an anti-violence-against-women protest, the male director changed the end of the misogynist plot, the first militant action of the #Times Up age.  Instead of being stabbed to death, Carmen shoots her would-be murderer, her dejected ex-lover Don José.  Carmen, mezzo-soprano Veronica Simeoni, liked the alternative ending.  This plot twist received mixed reviews, but the opera run was sold out.   Does crime against women no longer pay?  In Italy, women are so frequently murdered that a name has been coined for this social crisis: femminicidio or femicide.

Carmen is one of the world’s most oved operas and a favorite of first-time opera-goers. The libretto is based on Carmen, a famous 19th century drama by Prosper Mérimée.  Carmen is a free -spirited, feisty gypsy who seduces a gullible soldier, Don José, in order to escape from jail.  Madly in love with her, he abandons his regiment.  Now an outlaw, he follows Carmen and her band of smugglers to the mountains.  In Seville, she dumps him for the flamboyant and handsome torero Escamillo.  After stalking Carmen, scorned loser Don José stabs her to death. 



                                                                               This was before
Another noteworthy victim of domestic violence is Desdemona in Otello by Giuseppe Verdi.  The insecure Otello is led to believe that his wife Desdemona is having an affair with a younger man.  Despite her claims of innocence, enraged and jealous, he strangles her in their matrimonial bed.  Another horrible femminicidio is committed by the cuckold Canio, the clown in Pagliacci (clowns in Italian) the verissimo opera written by Ruggero Leoncavallo.  Canio stabs his wife Nedda to death during the show they play together.  And for good measure, he also dispatches the lover with the same knife.

Additionally, wicked family decisions drive women nuts, and ultimately to death.  The wretched heroines die of despair and exhaustion or commit harrowing suicides.  In the death register, opera plots are both imaginative and preposterous.  These provoked deaths fall into two broad categories: paranormal deaths and outlandish suicides.  In the first category, one can list the courtesan Thais of Jules Massenet’s opera of the same name; the naïve country girl Marguerite of Charles Gounod’s Faust and Leonor, the mistress of the King of Castille in La favorite of Gaetano Donizetti.   Depreciated by men, and exhausted by their spiritual struggles, these women die delivered of their “sins”.

In the wacky suicide competition, opera stands second to none!  The inventory of creepy and spooky suicides is very long and this list is not exhaustive.  Fathers and brothers can be as cruel as husbands: they sacrifice their daughters and sisters to the altar of their selfishness and ambition.  These wretched girls are ultimately led to suicide.  Emotionally fragile Lucia di Lammermoor (Donizetti), the strong-minded Valkyrie Brűnnhilde of Richard Wagner’s Ring, and the love-sick slave Aida (Verdi) are the most renowned victims.  Aida is manipulated by her father to steal military secrets from her lover, who is consequently condemned to death.  At the end, she decides to be buried alive with him.  Lucia is driven to madness, and before dying she murders an unloved husband chosen by her brother in their wedding bed.  Leonora in La Forza del Destino, another Verdi opera, is victim of honor killing: her brother stabs her for loving a mixed-race guy.

In terms of opera’s “air time”, Brűnnhilde is unique among the doomed opera heroines: she is the soprano with the most singing time, and carries on for more than twenty minutes before her self-immolation at the end of The Ring[1].   Although she has a stronger personality than Aida and Lucia, she is not spared the blow of weak men’s trickery and treason.  She is the daughter of Wotan, the chief of a dysfunctional family of gods.  Wotan is a loving but covetous and dithering father who will bring disaster on the family in spite of his daughter’s travels.  Frustrated and fed up with her father’s hypocrisy, her husband’s deception and her suiter’s tricks, she returns the damn ring to its rightful owners and rides her horse into her lover’s funeral pyre, a fire she lit.  Valhalla, the gods’ kingdom, goes up in flames.  This is my take on the Twilight of the Gods.  Wagnerites may not agree with me, as they regard Brűnnhilde’s self-immolation as an act of redemption for the reckless gods and the dawn of an era of love.  

                                                                    A Walkyrie, opera version

Brűnnhilde shares the self-immolation/redemption privilege with Norma from the opera of the same name by Vincenzo Bellini.   Norma also jumps into a funeral pyre, but her goal is more prosaic: to drive the Romans out of Gaul.  A Druid High Priestess, she was abandoned by the father of her children, a Roman commander.  In 19th century dramatic operas, suicides with a purpose provide a pretense of merit for the heroines.  On the other hand, damaged for loving the wrong men, Butterfly, Tosca, Gilda in Rigoletto, la Wally, Elektra, Senta in The Flying Dutchman and Dido in Berlioz’ Les Troyens commit selfish, hence wasteful suicides.  As pointed out by many essayists: “Opera is the most misogynist art form.”[2]  Women are doomed and disposable, and exit the scene in the most horrible way in about 80 % of dramatic operas.



                                                                  Another Walkyrie, comic strip version

A few opera heroines are not victims but perpetrators of domestic violence.  One can name the unspeakable infanticide Medea (Cherubini), the disreputable serial killer Lulu (Alban Berg’s opera Lulu) and evil multi-murderess Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk (Dimitri Shostakovich)[3].  

So why does this blogger, a committed feminist, love opera, which treats women so shabbily?  Let’s rephrase: an art form which lets men treat women so meanly.  Blaming opera for excessive violence, shameless betrayal, hopeless love but perfect death (TB, suicide and murder)[4] is misdirected.  One should address the root of opera plots, the authors hidden behind the librettists and the drama, in other words, luminaries like Euripides, Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller, Victor Hugo, Sir Walter Scott, Prosper Mérimée and Alexandre Dumas, to name the better known.  These writers reflect the mores of their days: a merciless and corrupt patriarchy for which women were either virtuous or lost.  They created heroines with highly emotional roles, either free-spirited, brave and resourceful or vulnerable and wretched.  Probably drained of inspiration, their male characters are one-dimensional, shortsighted, one-track-minded and often emotionally handicapped.  For a few hours, thanks to their arias, the heroines are allowed to captivate our emotions before being punished, murdered or led to suicide.  Like Antonia in Les Contes d’Hoffman, whose aria is a death warrant, they literally sing themselves to death. 

So why love opera? A masochist fix? Certainly not, it is a blissful emotional experience.  Novelists, writers and librettists rightly bet that women make better dramatic characters than men and that powerful drama delves into domestic violence.  On a concluding note, to be fair, opera’s heroines are not always doomed; many get the upper hand.  My favorites are femme fatale Cleopatra in Handel’s Guilio Cesare and tough cow-girl Minnie in Puccini’s La Fanciulla del West.  I nonetheless get my emotional fix when listening to Isold’s Liebestod aria.  The abstract purity of the love-death aria makes you forget that the lovers Tristan and Isold are dying.











[1] “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings”. A colloquialism born out of this scene.
[2] Charlotte Higgins, The Guardian, 26 February 2016.
[3] Medea is a 18th century French opera based on Euripides’ tragedy.  Lulu and Lady Macbeth were written during the 20th century.
[4] Opera is carnage.  Kristen compiled 42 operas on the topic of death.  Characters are either murdered (52%) or commit suicide (24%).  Illness comes third at 17%.  http://operaversity.com/culture-and-news/death-opera-visual-representation

Comments

  1. First comment from non-Google account friend: "I love it, and the pics are perfect! Alagna looks like a mad killer!."

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  2. I await for your first opera Beatrice😊 - change is brought about by leaders such as yourself who can visualize the bigger picture and develop a story outside existing ‘artificial” boundaries.

    I’d expect it to be fair, romantic and with a happy ending - no violence and lots of music😊

    BTW we saw Puccini's La Bohème on Saturday evening at the annual Perth Opera in the Park - the best way to watch opera with wine in hand🍷

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    Replies
    1. Poor Minnie, she died of TB like many other operas heroines. When In NYC, I also enjoyed opera in the park! with wine and bubbly!!! A few 21st century operas are written by women, we shall get there!

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  3. In the new production of Carmen in Florence, Carmen shoots Don Jose in self-defense. Obviously, by opera standards, it is anti-climatic! This is also what Barrie Kosky thinks (The Economist, Feb 3rd). He is directing his own Carmen at The Royal Opera House. "Opera is the ritualization of emotions through the human voice, it has nothing to do with realism." He goes further " Carmen is not merely a retrograde celebration of machismo, it is a tango between Eros and Thanatos...Carmen wants to self-destruct, to meet her death."
    Fine, but why only women want to meet their death in 19th century operas??? Should I ask him the question???

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  4. Another comment received from a friend in France: "Vos écrits sur les destinées féminines dans les opéras sont perturbants . Je n'avais jamais vu cela sous cet angle."

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  5. New comment: "Regarding operas where women are punished: Thais is the story of a courtesan who is made penitent by a puritanical monk, and goes off to atone for her sins in a convent, only for the monk to find that he is sexually obsessed with her. He follows her to the convent, fantasizing as he goes, only to find that she is dying from her austere life. She goes to heaven in a blaze of glory, while he is left to repine. It's the classic trope of the woman as dangerous temptress, who must be punished if she strays and rewarded (unfortunately, only in heaven) if she denies herself. Beatrice and I saw the opera in NY; we loved the music and the singing, but found the staging clunky and stiff, and the story strangely disturbing (like so many opera plots!). Loved the blog! "

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    Replies
    1. Dear L. Thank you for your contribution. Thais was enjoyable but I hated the end!

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  6. "Just to say I’ve been enjoying your blogs – a lot of thought goes into them and they’re very thought-provoking. Thank you!"

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  7. New comment: " Off the top of my head, I could only name Parsifal and Don Carlo as dramatic opera heroes. True, sopranos have more dramatic visibility, why? good question. Another blog Bea?" MC.

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  8. Another comment: "I loved your blog. It’s amazing how much interesting material you can put together, thank you!

    After letting it sink in, I realized I had never thought about the victimization of women in the Great Operas. I don’t think that this is because I am all that dense -- after all, if I saw films continually depicting this kind of sordidness, I would be disgusted, and certainly would not return to them again and again. Perhaps the reason I’ve had no such reaction to opera is that, in Italian opera at least (the genre with which I’m familiar), the women – whatever their fate – convey integrity, strength, grace, and a nobility that sours to the heavens and touches the heart. They and their music -- which of course are one and the same, and to which we never tire of returning -- are ‘affirming’. Is it because of the amazing beauty of the music and the human voice? I tend to think so.

    That’s all for me. Thanks for drawing me out of my pile of work to see this!" DC.

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  9. Another comment received thru WhatsApp!: "Really enjoyed reading this. A very thorough and well written article. Opera clearly shows women's place in society with their so many misfortunes." A.E.

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  10. Received this morning:

    "L'opéra? Je suis loin de m'y connaître comme toi en opéra. Je n'en connais que quelques uns. Et il est vrai que les femmes y tiennent toujours une place particulière. Souvent victimes. Mais presque toujours centrales. C'est par elles, pour elles, que l'histoire se déroule.

    J'ai été très intéressée par ta présentation des divers opéras où les femmes connaissent un destin tragique et où ca finit irrémédiablement mal pour elles. J'en connaissais certains, d'autres non. Merci de ce survol!

    Je comprends toute cette émotion autour de la place de la femme dans la société, et du harcèlement sexuel qui constitue une épée de Damoclès au dessus des têtes des femmes au travail, qui peut parfois mener loin comme une perte d'emploi ou un échec professionnel.

    Quant à la place des femmes dans les arts, mon opinion est claire. On ne modifie pas une oeuvre par "political correctness". C'est débile! Une oeuvre est une idée. Elle ne nous appartient pas. Elle appartient toujours à celui ou celle qui l'a créée. La modifier pour correspondre à des normes nouvelles est une sorte de révisionnisme de mauvais aloi. Dieu que les arts seraient ennuyeux s'ils devaient correspondre aux normes de moralité de l'époque!

    Je suis tout à fait d'accord avec ta conclusion: sans les drames, il n'y aurait pas de situation dramatique; sans les femmes, il n'y aurait pas de drame. Les gens heureux - et j'ajouterais "qui se comportent bien avec autrui" - n'ont pas d'histoire. Pour avoir une histoire il faut irrémédiablement que ça se passe mal. Dans toutes ces grandes oeuvres, il y a un ou des hommes et une ou des femmes et tout ce beau monde se fait mal, se trompe, s'attaque, se console ... et c'est charmant!
    Vive le drame! Vive l'opéra! Et vive la vie!" E.N.

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  11. A new comment: "A new take on the cause celebre of the moment. Sometimes we need to challenge what we always thought was just ‘lovely music’.". BE.

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  12. Another comment received yesterday: "J'ai lu avec beaucoup d'attention votre blog ; bien sûr que les femmes sont toujours sacrifiées, ou se sacrifient, pour l'honneur de leur Père, de leur Frère ou pour sauver leurs enfants ou leur people, mais n'est-ce pas ainsi dans la vraie vie ? Le mouvement dont vous parlez "balance ton porc" découle du même phénomène, des femmes qui ont sacrifié ce qu'elles avaient de plus intime pour sauver leur vie ou leurs rêves face à des types répugnants ; les opéras ont au moins le mérite de sublimer ces sacrifices.
    Pour en revenir à l'opéra de Bizet ce n'est pas la première fois (et surtout pas la dernière) qu'il est malmené ; les metteurs en scène de la nouvelle génération ne rêvent que d'une chose, s'approprier l'œuvre, je pense, entre autre à "Dialogues de Carmélites" à Münich où, à la fin, Blanche de la Force sauve toutes les religieuses et où elle est la seule à mourir !!.. (les héritiers de Poulenc ont fait un procès qu'ils ont perdu en troisième instance)."

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  13. Last (?) but not least: "J’ai relu ton blog Domestic Violence: Carnage at the Opera. Il fallait au moins cela car j’ai été bluffé je ne connais pratiquement rien à l’opéra . J’avoue avoir été abasourdi plutôt impressionné par ta science de l’opéra et ton analyse des héroïnes qui y sont campées est impressionnante. Au petit niveau qui est le mien ton analyse est des plus percutantes. Chapeau c’est du grand art. Carmen le premier opéra auquel j’ai assisté à l’âge de 14 ou 15 ans et dont je me souviens encore des airs m’avait fasciné à la fois par son début enjoué et sa fin tragique mais n’avait donné lieu à aucune analyse particulière de ma part. J’avoue que l’analyse à laquelle tu te livres donne à réfléchir et rend encore plus passionnant ces livrets d’Opéra. En tout cas Bravo je suis ébloui. "

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  14. Wow, cool post. I'd like to write like this too - taking time and real hard work to make a great article... but I put things off too much and never seem to get started. Thanks though. online dv classes,

    ReplyDelete
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