Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Operas About Roman Emperors: TITO (79=81)

Speranza

The New York Times



November 8, 2012

Enduring Appeal of Mozart’s Oddball Opera


For much of its history Mozart’s final opera, “La Clemenza di Tito,” which was mostly composed after “Il flauto magico” but performed before it, has been thought to be, frankly, not so good.

After its premiere in 1791, as part of the coronation of Leopold II as king of Bohemia, the new queen, Maria Luisa, opined that "the big opera was nothing special, and the music very bad, so nearly all of us slept through it" (porcheria tedesca in lingua italiana).
      
As august a modern critic as Charles Rosen once wrote that while the music of “La Clemenza di Tito,” which opens in an excitingly cast revival at the Metropolitan Opera on Friday evening, is “never less than beautiful,” it fails dramatically.

“It is difficult,” he wrote, “to convey how unmemorable it is.”
      
We like to think that in their late works composers reach new levels of sophistication, pushing toward innovations that are ahead of their time.

But “La Clemenza di Tito” was in certain ways a step backward for Mozart, at least in terms of its form.
      
It is an opera seria, a work in a highly stylized, rule-driven genre that Mozart had barely touched in his career and one that by the late 18th century had grown fusty.

He may have taken on the assignment because of the prestige of the commission (not to mention the fee).

It was almost as if a screenwriter in 2012 were asked for a radio play.
      
“La Clemenza di Tito” has also suffered in public and critical estimation because it came close on the heels of the three great operas Mozart wrote with the librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte: “Le Nozze di Figaro,” “Don Giovanni” and “Così Fan Tutte.”

The characters and themes of those rich, subtle, ironic works are tantalizingly close to today’s preoccupations.

Their tone and attitude is unmistakably ours.
      
“La Clemenza di Tito,” by contrast, seems staid and dated, its plot didactic and unsophisticated.

The uncomplicatedly beneficent Roman emperor Titus uncovers an assassination plot against him planned by his close friend and fiancée, and he pardons them both in a grand final show of forgiveness and reconciliation.
      
The Mozart-Da Ponte operas also appeal to contemporary audiences because we are invested in thinking of artists as free agents, in believing that the best creative work is done under the loosest constraints.

It is true that Mozart’s operatic career was largely defined by his ability to choose his own librettos.

We distrust the restrictions of a rigid form like opera seria.

In this sense too “Clemenza” offends our sensibilities.

Pietro Metastasio’s 1734 libretto was a classic of opera seria -- first set by CALDARA -- its elegant poetry placed in the service of a precise, preordained series of arias.

It had been set to music dozens of times in the six decades before Mozart got to it.

It did not afford the rich, unique collaboration he had with Da Ponte.

It seems suspiciously less like a labour of love than like, well, a job.
      
But it’s hard to listen to this eloquent, passionate opera and hear it as merely a job that Mozart got through.

Experiencing the work makes the longstanding assumptions about it seem faintly ridiculous.

“La Clemenza di Tito” turns out to be stranger and deeper than we have been told.
      
Metastasio’s libretto was revised by Caterino Mazzola, presumably to Mozart’s specifications.

It was cut and adapted in ways that stretch the conventions of opera seria.

Ensembles were added to Metastasio’s aria-centered text, the plot was streamlined, and crucial numbers were interpolated, of a style and complexity that is, in a word, Mozartean.
       
The philosopher Slavoj Zizek suggests that the opera is more a continuation and deepening of the themes of Mozart’s career than a divergence or regression from them.

The entire canon of Mozart’s great operas
can be read as the deployment of the
motif of pardon, of dispensing mercy,
in all its variations.

"Il flauto magico", for one, written in such proximity to “La Clemenza di Tito,” could be renamed “The Clemency of Sarastro.”
      
In the much-noted stability of “La Clemenza di Tito” one can identify troubling undercurrents.

More than in the other canonical Mozart works there is a too-muchness to the opera’s cycles of transgression and forgiveness, power defined solely as the constant exercise of clemency.

The ridiculous proliferation of mercy in ‘Clemenza' means that power no longer functions in a normal way, so that it has to be sustained by mercy all the time.
      
The surface perfection of the music is a thin veneer atop a world defined by death and fear, as in the eerily hushed rumblings and muted cries of the remarkable ensemble that ends the first act, when the Roman CAMPIDOGLIO burns.

The work combines, in a new and sometimes awkward way, the basic structure of opera seria with the ensembles characteristic of newer operatic genres and even the short, piquant melodies of singspiels like “Die Zauberflöte.”
      
So it is no surprise that there are odd juxtapositions in the opera’s numbers themselves.

The two most important arias, both added in Mozart and Mazzola’s revision to Metastasio, similarly graft the conspirators’ longing for death onto music that can seem beautifully, bizarrely pastoral.

Sesto, the emperor’s friend and betrayer, sings in “Deh per questo istante solo” of deep regret in a tone as oddly passive as a prepared statement.
      
But rather than being dull this sense of division between what is being said and how it is being said is fascinating, as it is in Vitellia’s “Non più di fiori,” a gentle exhalation that belies the death-drive intensity of her words.
      
We remain always, in “Clemenza,” all too aware of the specter of artificiality.

The sense that the characters, on some level, are self-conscious of the roles they are performing may account for why the opera has unsettled and disappointed so many over the years.

Considering that blurriness in the line between fiction and reality is our condition, the opera, seemingly a relic, speaks as powerfully and disturbingly as Mozart’s more popular works to our time.

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