The idea that a character in an opera should have a “vocal identity” is relatively recent, mid-18th century, I would say. During the baroque, formulae would determine if the part would go to a soprano or an alto (male or female), a tenor or a bass. Other than this, baroque opera focused rather on situations than on characters, which tended to be nonsensical throughout the plot. If you think that Rodelinda (in Handel’s eponymous opera) would agree to marry her enemy Grimoaldo, for the dismay of all her friends, just to tell him in a public ceremony that she would rather die than marry him, it’s easy to see my point. This does not mean that there was not vocal characterization in 17th and 18th centuries. On the contrary, vocal expression was ruled by a rigid code of affetti that informed composers of how every emotion should be musically described. After a while, arias would be referred by the name of the affetto (emotion) in question. That means that baroque composers would describe rather the mood in a scene rather than the character’s impression of it. An aria di furia would show an idealized version of what fury is regardless of the character who is singing it. No wonder singers would borrow an aria from an opera and use it in another work without any noticeable consequence. That is probably why Handel’s “sorceress” roles are so successful with audiences today. Although they share the same profile (some of them were actually written for the same singer), it is a very striking one, with their extravagant arie di furie in military style and long, expressive arie d’affetto. Of course, if we involve Rameau in this discussion, we will find a fully developed character like Phèdre in Hyppolite et Aricie, but her uniqueness stems rather from the fact that the remaining characters (including those in the title) are rather formulaic.
In any case, French baroque opera was ahead of its Italian counterpart in terms of theatricality. No wonder the development to Classicism had its origins in Paris via Christoph Willibald Gluck. It is too early to speak of “vocal identities”, but at least we can easily recognize a musical-dramatic coherence. We have read here that Mozart’s employment of mezzo carattere aesthetics enabled him to show some sort of dramatic development in his characters – for instance, we see Donna Elvira’s career out of dissipation to the intent of atoning for her sins in a convent, by the way she starts to avoid irregular and large intervals and increasingly absorb Donna Anna’s “serious style”. Or Don Ottavio develop from feminine affetti (Dalla sua pace) and to a more heroic writing (Il mio tesoro), while Donna Anna leaves behind the imperious affetti of Or sai che l’onore until she softens in the noble Non mi dir. In Così fan tutte, Mozart goes a bit further in terms of characterization – the code of affetti is not used to depict social standings or stock situations. All characters wear and cast off affetti according to their own concepts and misconceptions about themselves. Come scoglio is who Fiordiligi is supposed to be, Per pietà rather who she is in spite of all constraints. Dorabella’s evolution is more evident – just compare the Gluckian Smanie implacabili with the divertimento-like È amore un ladroncello (the titles themselves say it all).
I am not able to affirm that Beethoven – who always wished Così fan tutte were more serious than it is – can be counted as a step further in our story. In Fidelio, it is clear that Leonore and Florestan sing differently from everyone else. They are idealized people and sing idealized music – their vocalità is just impossible, they writing is unfit for real-world people. But that is a very effective music-dramatic point nonetheless. I wonder if this was intentional. I mean, it is clear that this is an effect he wanted – the characters in the first version of the opera (the one we call “Leonore”) don’t have these superhuman vocal lines. In any case, in Italy things had taken a more conventional turn until Verdi dominated the local operatic scene (and the whole world of opera soon after that). In Verdi, each character has its way of singing – when we have Amneris and Aida singing together, it is never like Norma and Adalgisa doing each their take on the same musical ideas. In Aida, these scenes are a clash not only of personalities, but vocal styles. Even in the duet with Radamès, one can hear that Aida’s music has a different flavor from the straightforward lines sung by the tenor. However, it is La Traviata the work everybody refers to when speaking of Verdi’s ability to depict the psychological development of a character. Violetta is said to be a part “that requires a different singer for each act”. Yes, intoxicated Violetta sings coloratura, Violetta in love sings lyric lines and Violetta the victim sings almost dramatic music before Violetta the angel sings… angelic music. I wonder if this is why sopranos love the role in spite of all the schmaltz and the conventionality.
A friend once asked me if Tannhäuser is Wagner’s Violetta. The role has an ambiguous vocalità – when he does what he is supposed to (even in Venusberg), he sings Weberian lines. When he unleashes his full personality, it is bona fide Musikdrama. Well, yes, but we could say the same about Senta – good-girl Senta sings à la Weber, “demented” Senta sings Wagner. This does make sense, but Wagner’s vocal writing is so intimately related to the text and the dramatic situations that it would be impossible to think that Brünnhilde or Siegfried could sing in any other way. Would Wagner be then the nec plus ultra of vocal characterization? I wouldn’t say that, for there is Richard Strauss, who learned from both Wagner and Verdi in this department. In Die Frau ohne Schatten, not only does each character sing in a different vocal style – the orchestra itself changes color for each of them. It is more than a consequence of the text and the dramatic situations (although it is also there) – it is the vocal approach itself. It is rare to find a singer who sings both the Kaiserin and the Färberin in the same phase of her career. She would need an astounding technique to be able to shift from Aida one day to Amneris the next day.
rml, enjoyed reading this – particularly after listening to that Elektra from Salzburg broadcast last week. Learned a few things about myself. Elektra is probably Strauss’ most melodramatic opera, but musically (for me) it wears thin towards the end. I remember seeing it live for the 1st time when I was 22 years old (Amy Shuard as Elektra & ENRIQUETA TARRÉS as Chrysothemis) and it seemed to me more like a live staged version of a film noire with constant musical soundtrack. It seems to me that Strauss began the so-called 2nd Viennese school earlier than the others with Salome & Elektra, but as he honed his skills further through time I got my favorites out of him (Frau ohne Schatten, Ariadne & Arabella). Much of what I read about Strauss does not give him the credit he deserves for his innovative Salome ‘& Elektra – I’ve never heard anything nearly similar from that period. But I do enjoy listening to Schönberg’s Moses und Aron (no boring moments) more than Salome or Elektra.
– As far the last week’s Salzburg effort, like all performances of Elektra that I’ve ever heard I enjoyed it up until the recognition scene so I skipped to the death of Aegisth and listened to the rest of the opera. The two sopranos contrasted very well (both of them are Lithuanian) Grigorian’s tone velvety and smooth, Stundyte, as you note above, changing her tone to suit each different scene; Baumgartner sounded like a dedicated amateur.
Funny… I once took a friend who had never seen an opera by Strauss to see Elektra and her comment was “Now I see that it’s like a soundtrack to a movie… I’d rather listen to Elisir d’Amore” 🙂 In any case, nobody likes to give Strauss credit. He had too much of a sense of humour about himself to be pedestaled by pompous critics. Most Strauss operas – Arabella, Ariadne and FroSch included – have these “downbeat” moments. Strauss’s structures were too ambitious to be “perfect” – and at least for me that’s part of the fun. Elektra and Salome are short operas, so even the less exciting moments do not last long. I would rather say that the problem is more like a “withdrawal symptom” – the opera is set in such an intense level that one feels a bit in the hunger when it softens. At least, Elektra.
Salome is more all over the place. There are two scenes in it that feel self-conscious to me – the fugue (which I don’t like) and the dance (which I like in spite of myself). If I am not mistaken, Strauss had some trouble with it and one can see that. It is the very essence of kitsch – he tried everything at the same time, it’s like something golden, purple and glitter, and that is why it is so fascinating.