Whenever I prepare a new production, I ask myself, “Why do this opera/play today?” CDs abound if one wants a pleasant listen, glass of sherry in hand. But what does it have to say to us now? What’s it about, other than an opportunity to make “innovative” production choices? And in this particular case, how do we communicate this most tranquil and optimistic of operas—composed almost 250 years ago and, most eminently, a product of its age—to an audience bombarded by media, three-second sound bites, deafening sound effects and daily news of terrorism and war?
There are four main characters in Gluck’s opera: Orfeo, Euridice, Love … and the chorus, or the community. The story tells us how they are affected by the loss of one among them, the grieving process, ensuing solace and a return to life. It’s about a community and its artist(s) dealing with the unimaginable: Death and, in the Calzabigi-Gluck version (as opposed to the traditional myth), humans actually coming out winners.
And that was the hard dramaturgical question: if Euridice comes back to life a second time, the iconic myth is dismantled and loses all meaning... at first sight. At the core of the problem is the puzzle of this Western theme about “not looking back.” It seems to be closely related to the “not seeking to know” dictum. Orfeo must not look back at Euridice after bringing her back to life; Lot’s wife must not look back to Gomorrah going up in smoke just as Psyche must not look at Eros after making love; Semele must not look at Jupiter; Elsa mustn’t ask Lohengrin’s name on their wedding night; the fairy Melusine’s husband must not look at her at night (well, she’s a Serpent during those hours, which might send the poor chap screaming into the night), etc. There are a myriad variations on this theme in our fairy tales and mythologies. But myths without profound meaning don’t take hold in cultures . What is the meaning of this one?
It seems to have to do with a failure of faith, the greatest sin in all theologies. Let us not forget that Socrates was condemned to death for impiety, lest we wax romantic about the Classical Greeks’ enlightened mindset. Calzabigi’s and Gluck’s worldview was Christian— most particularly, Catholic— and Catholic theology, unlike pagan theology, contains the possibility of redemption through suffering. Hades, for the ancient Greeks, did not contain a heaven or a hell and so, by extension, no Purgatory. Hades was the Underworld, the world of the Shadows, from where “no voyager returned.” Yet the Furies’ words in this opera imply that they are expiating transgressions—as in the old Purgatory notion—which might be a first sign of the possibility of Euridice’s final resurrection through the appalling suffering of Orfeo. (It was his fault she died a second time.) Thus it reminds the audience of the hope on which Christianity is based and thrived in the Western world.
There are four main characters in Gluck’s opera: Orfeo, Euridice, Love … and the chorus, or the community. The story tells us how they are affected by the loss of one among them, the grieving process, ensuing solace and a return to life. It’s about a community and its artist(s) dealing with the unimaginable: Death and, in the Calzabigi-Gluck version (as opposed to the traditional myth), humans actually coming out winners.And that was the hard dramaturgical question: if Euridice comes back to life a second time, the iconic myth is dismantled and loses all meaning... at first sight. At the core of the problem is the puzzle of this Western theme about “not looking back.” It seems to be closely related to the “not seeking to know” dictum. Orfeo must not look back at Euridice after bringing her back to life; Lot’s wife must not look back to Gomorrah going up in smoke just as Psyche must not look at Eros after making love; Semele must not look at Jupiter; Elsa mustn’t ask Lohengrin’s name on their wedding night; the fairy Melusine’s husband must not look at her at night (well, she’s a Serpent during those hours, which might send the poor chap screaming into the night), etc. There are a myriad variations on this theme in our fairy tales and mythologies. But myths without profound meaning don’t take hold in cultures . What is the meaning of this one?
It seems to have to do with a failure of faith, the greatest sin in all theologies. Let us not forget that Socrates was condemned to death for impiety, lest we wax romantic about the Classical Greeks’ enlightened mindset. Calzabigi’s and Gluck’s worldview was Christian— most particularly, Catholic— and Catholic theology, unlike pagan theology, contains the possibility of redemption through suffering. Hades, for the ancient Greeks, did not contain a heaven or a hell and so, by extension, no Purgatory. Hades was the Underworld, the world of the Shadows, from where “no voyager returned.” Yet the Furies’ words in this opera imply that they are expiating transgressions—as in the old Purgatory notion—which might be a first sign of the possibility of Euridice’s final resurrection through the appalling suffering of Orfeo. (It was his fault she died a second time.) Thus it reminds the audience of the hope on which Christianity is based and thrived in the Western world.
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| Performances of "Orfeo ed Euridice" are Apr. 13-15 in Phoenix, Apr. 21 & 22 in Tucson. For tickets, go to www.azopera.org or call 602.266.7464 or 520.293.4336. |
I don’t hold spiritual beliefs of any kind, but I do see this as a profoundly Christian version of the pagan story. I think it incumbent for directors not to impose their personal views on a piece of theater if they contradict the original intent of its creators. I see Elysium as the 18th-century Enlightenment’s vision of a Good Life: all arts, sciences and crafts applied in a peaceful society where harmony was the goal. The world of the Furies is that place where the unquiet souls reside and who are comforted and solaced by Orfeo’s Music. Music alone cannot relieve suffering but, in acknowledging it, can bring a degree of understanding—and so, comfort—to the suffering human heart. And isn’t that the function of all Art? — Lillian Groag
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