Enough said.
But if I have to say more, I was utterly fascinated by the interpretation of Shakespeare's Othello into opera. The 4 act structure is particularly striking because it seems somehow, uneven, or without a central point. Though each plot point of the story is pretty decently hit, the pacing feels drastically different. I suppose this is because the plot points become simply an impetus to get to the arias and quartets. I think, to some extent, this idea can be found in the original play as well. Soliloquies and intimately passionate scenes often stand out more prominently in Shakespeare than the overall story in which they are involved. In opera, their vocal equivalents seem to even more fully comprise the piece. Particularly in Otello, the arais seem to expound upon a theme, idea, or characterization, rather than story or plot. For example, a little recitative between Cassio and Iago (plot) launches us into Iago's "Credo in un Dio crudel," (I believe in a cruel god) a moment which seems to wholly absorb the act which encases it.
The opera comes off as pointedly dependent upon its source play. It's as if we the audience know the characters and events so fully, that the opera seeks to take advantage of our knowledge, taking us through songs to real illumination of moments where Shakespeare is more subtle. Two such moments stand out in bold relief. One in Iago's "Credo in un Dio crudel" (stated above) in which the blatant demonic nature of Iago is revealed to the audience early on and to a drastic extent. Shakespeare's Iago of "I hate the Moore"-a motiveless villain aligned with hell, and yet ever subtle in his nature, as if constantly eluding our comprehension- is literally given voice with the rich, deep, soaring melody in which he announces proudly "I am evil because I am a man; and I feel the primeval slime in me... Death is Nothingness. Heaven is an old wives tale!" The second moment comes at the close of the opera, in Desdemona's "Willow Song" and "Ave Maria." Here, the heroine seems fully aware of her death at a time when Shakespeare's heroine seems unprepared. Othello's line "have you pray'd tonight, Desdemon?... I would not kill thy soul," is given a resounding answer in the opera. Her prayer comes after a bitterly sad, and surprisingly quaint song of self awareness, aligning herself with a poor maiden forsaken by her lover. These songs involve mournful repetitions and brief dying bursts into the soprano's lightest range. Their poignancy, in part, derives from what we as an audience know of Desdemona's fate. She is given the last word that we wish she had in Shakespeare's play, where her passing seems so abrupt- "put out the light."
In both cases, the opera seems to grant us a kind of wish fulfillment while relying on the audience's knowledge of the text to support a dramatic moment. I was therefore surprised to read in my production notes that Italian audiences only became familiar with Shakespeare in the 19th century. (Verdi's Macbeth of 1847, it tells me, "predated the play's first Italian performance.") Reading on, I find that Verdi himself, however, was very familiar with Shakespeare, claiming "'I have had his works in my hands since my earliest youth. I have read and re-read him constantly.'" It seems, then, that it is perhaps the composer's wish fulfillment which finds realization in the opera- a wish for Iago to be a true demon unleashed from hell, and Desdemona an angel, allowed to say her final prayer and let the audience morn with her before she is gone. I count myself lucky that Verdi gave these wishes to us in more universal language than Shakespeare's English.
Also, Renee Fleming. I mean. really.
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