THE OPERA LOVER’S NEWSLETTER for Students in Opera Appreciation Classes taught by Jim Furlong at Hudson Guild, Stein Senior Center and 1199 Retirees

March 30, 2020

Dear Lovers of Opera,

Today’s newsletter is about the origins of opera. Did you ever wonder who “invented” opera? Well, in the late 16th century, a group of intellectuals from Florence called the “Camerata” were deeply interested in classical Greek and Roman works, believing them to be superior to the art of their own time. (I guess they weren’t seeing Shakespeare in translation yet.) The members of the Camerata came to believe that the chorus – and even perhaps the principal characters – in Greek tragedy chanted or sang the lines. So they decided to attempt to create their own versions of Greek myths with singing and musical accompaniment. Those became the very first examples of opera as we know it today.

Around 1597, Jacopo Peri composed music for a text based on the myth of Dafne. That is considered by many to be the first opera. Though that work is lost, his next opera from 1600 based on the tale of Euridice survives and is performed on rare occasions as a curio. “Euridice” is noteworthy for introducing the use of recitatives between arias and choruses. They moved the action along and led to the idea of a through-composed method which characterizes all subsequent operatic works.

Claudio Monteverdi is the earliest composer whose operas are still regularly performed today. Monteverdi was a more accomplished, sophisticated composer than Peri, and created complex, moving works which set a template for every opera to follow. His first was “L’Orfeo” (1607) which like Peri’s “Euridice” was based on the myth of Orpheus and Euridice. She went walking carelessly barefoot in a field, was bitten by a snake and died young. Her devoted husband Orpheus, a musician, went searching for her in Hades (the underworld – not hell – more abstract). Orpheus struck a deal with the gods enabling him to lead her back to earth, playing his magical music along the way. The only stipulation was that he had to resist looking back at her during the journey. Alas, he grew impatient and couldn’t resist taking a glance at her beautiful face. And so, she was lost to him forever! (However in some versions, the gods forgive him anyway, and she survives.)

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I’ve been forthright over many years of teaching opera appreciation that I am not a big fan of operas written prior to Mozart. (With one exception being Gluck’s magnificent “Orfeo et Euridice.”) I find most of those early operas to be stiff and unvaried in tone – a little boring in fact. However, one can’t be a serious student of opera and ignore the body of work written between 1600 and 1780. And when you look more carefully at it, you perceive the haunting, poetic yearning underneath the repetitive, restrained musical forms of those early works.

It’s not surprising that two of the very first operas were about a musician. Orpheus is also a character in a brilliant comic operetta by Offenbach written in the 19th century, while Philip Glass has taken a stab at the myth in the 20th century. Last year’s Tony winner “Hadestown” is yet another new version of the tale. Obviously, the story is good material for a musical stage work.

I have my own hypothesis about the birth of opera. Isn’t it interesting that Peri and Monteverdi started that art form just as Shakespeare was rounding out his great career in written drama? Perhaps Will pushed prose to such heights of musical poetry, that the only logical next step meant adding continuous music and song to the mix. The history of art has always been about pushing contemporary forms to new heights of ecstasy and depths of feeling. Opera certainly fills that bill.

The excerpts which I’m forwarding to you by links include the brilliant, unforgettable opening which Monteverdi created for a small but muscular ensemble dominated by a variety of aggressive horns. Next is the happy wedding scene, followed by the finale where Orpheus takes Apollo’s advice and ascends to heaven to comfort himself by gazing at Euridice’s likeness in the stars. This production seeks to evoke ancient pastoral style with subtlety and finesse. The palate of colors for the costumes evoke for me different flavors of sorbet – orange, raspberry, lemon and lime. Everything is soft, elegant and resonant. I suspect the members of the Camerata would be pleased.

As I like to say, opera never lets me down. Even in these difficult times, there is much inspiration and beauty to take away from so many of the great works which we explore together.

With affection,

Jim

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