Elisabeth Das Musical: The Wagner Connection

 

To appreciate modern works of opera and musical theatre is to appreciate Richard Wagner.   His ideal of the gesamtkunstwerk led to the formation of composition and staging techniques that largely reformed the medium of theatre.  By arguing that drama told through music was the purest form of drama, he provided a strong countermovement to realism.   He allowed for character emotion and stories to unfold in deeper, more complex ways than had previously been achievable, perhaps most notably through recurring musical passages called leitmotifs that were identified with particular characters or events and symbolically expressed their inner psyche and personal growth.  Although Wagner did not create the leitmotif, he was the first to make use of it so powerfully.  His music dramas, among them Tristan und Isolde and the four works comprising the Ring Cycle , are prime examples of his many ideals coming together in one work of art, arguably leading the way to 20^th century music.  Many popular theatrical and classical composers have built upon his ideals to this day, from Andrew Lloyd Webber to Stephen Sondheim, to Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg.  In particular, Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay’s pop-opera Elisabeth is an ideal example of Wagner’s lasting influence.  An examination of Elisabeth, its musical compositions and staging techniques, will reveal lasting traits used to express not only characterization but also symbolism: that is, exploration of realistic events in non-realistic ways.  In addition, it can show how pop operas tend to deviate from Wagner’s ideals.  A thorough examination will highlight the strengths and weaknesses of pop opera when compared to the founding principles of the gesamtkunstwerk.

 

Considering his contempt for commercial art, it is perhaps ironic that Wagner’s biggest influence has been in the worlds of cinema and musical theatre, two of the most commercial entertainment forms to become popular in the 20^th century.  Author Patrick Carnegy notes that “Wagner’s reforms have been so successfully assimilated into accepted modern theatre practice that one can easily lose sight of how radical his ideas were in his time and how hard he had to fight for them” (6).  Wagner would no doubt be mortified that Andrew Lloyd Webber, as commercial a composer as one can find, not only incorporates Wagnerian musical ideals into his works but also presents them at his own version of Bayreuth: Sydmonton Court at his Hampshire estate (Sam Staggs, Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard, 322).  The biggest difference between Bayreuth and Sydmonton is that Webber mainly uses his venue to test how viable his shows’ commercial prospects are, instead of immersing the audience in a total work of art.  Whether or not Wagner would approve is beside the point; his influence is felt in music heard everywhere today, even though most are not aware of it.  Perhaps audiences failed to notice that Che Guevara and Eva Perón’s two big numbers in Lloyd Webber’s Evita, “Oh, What a Circus” and “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, respectively, share the same melody albeit with different tempos, orchestrations and, of course, lyrics.  The tune is a leitmotif, and can be interpreted to indicate the biting contempt the antagonist feels for the protagonist, as well as her increasing dominance as a public figure. 

 

Wagner’s musical ideals thus prove themselves to be perfect not only for opera, but for pop-opera as well: for expression of character, emotion and symbolic interpretations of literal-minded events.  In Boublil and Schönberg’s Les Misérables, for example, the ghost of Fantine appears in the final scene, singing a reprise of the same leitmotif she sang on her deathbed, this time aimed at Jean Valjean directly before his death.  The scene is made much more powerful and moving by the use of music and symbolism than it would had Valjean simply passed away silently, for Fantine’s presence and the music heightens the reality of his death and raises him to salvation.  It is through techniques like these that Wagner has perhaps elevated certain aspects of modern commercial entertainment to a level of complexity that might not have otherwise been attainable.  As author Ethan Mordden notes, “pop opera is not a pop version of opera.  It’s an opera version of pop: building opera’s intensity out of the vernacular musical idiom” (82).  While many pop-operas can be viewed as such, some tend to be more operatic in nature than others.

 

A prime example of the sophistication the pop-opera genre is capable of is Elisabeth.  Considering Empress Elisabeth of Austria lived during Wagner’s lifetime, it is ironic his artistic ideals would go on to influence her musical biography.  Even more ironically, her cousin, King Ludwig II of Bavaria, was the major financer of Wagner’s Bayreuth Festspielhaus, and would one day himself become the subject of a musical.  The tragic story of the “Reluctant Empress”, burdened by duty when all she wanted was to be free, would seem the perfect subject for romantic melodrama.  Indeed, some of the films based on her life have oversimplified her to cartoonish proportions, but lyricist Michael Kunze and composer Sylvester Levay had a different approach.  Although some would categorize their work as just “another of those romantic continental spectacles with a pop-opera score such as [North Americans] never get over here despite their tremendous success in Europe” (Mordden, 230), its cleverness and strong Wagnerian influence should not go unnoticed.  By creating a piece of music drama, to be staged with mainly precise recreations of period décor and costuming, Kunze and Levay attempted to tell the story of ‘Sisi’ in a balanced and honest way, while using the benefits of musical composition to explore her character in greater depth.

 

The musical opens in purgatory.  Luigi Lucheni, her assassin and the narrator of the piece, is being questioned as to why he murdered Elisabeth one hundred years before.  Lucheni then calls forth the dead aristocracy to sing about the life and legacy of Elisabeth.  As originally staged in Vienna at the Theater an der Wien in 1992, and subsequently in its 2003 revival at the same venue, Lucheni mounts a lowered platform that proceeds to rise, as the dead aristocracy rise from beneath the stage.  It is here that the first leitmotif is heard: the theme sung by the aristocracy that will be presented again throughout the piece to emphasize the power Elisabeth held over the collective consciousness.

 

The benefit of telling Sisi’s story operatically is that the music can help symbolically represent very real aspects of her life.  In examples of her poetry, Sisi stated that her only true love was death itself.  Therefore, “Der Tod” is presented as a character, personified in the form of a handsome young man who saves Sisi’s life at an early age, leading to a lifelong fascination between them both.   Máté Kamarás, who played Death in the Vienna revival, sees his character “as having thousands of faces.  Elisabeth is the only one who sees the face of Death in this piece” (Máté Kamarás, Backstage Elisabeth).  Personifying Death as a man allows for onstage interaction between him and Elisabeth: a physical representation of her inner turmoil and struggle with life.  Death’s main leitmotif appears on his first entrance, and reappears at his intrusion into Elisabeth and Franz Josef’s first dance together.  In “Der Letzte Tanz”, he ominously and seductively declares that her final dance belongs to him alone.

 

Another song associated with Death is “Die Schatten Werden Länger”, which associates itself with the drastic measures Death takes to win the full affections of Elisabeth; if she ignores him, the shadows will continue to grow over her life.  It first appears in Act I upon the death of Elisabeth’s daughter, Sophie, as Death reveals the corpse of her baby lying within the confines of his carriage, flanked by his winged minions.  He has taken her life as a message to Elisabeth, who becomes enraged and even more determined to ignore his future advances.  Death then forms a close bond with Sisi’s psychologically fragile son, Rudolf, and shares a duet reprise of the song with him in Act II.

 

Rudolf, coincidentally also the subject of his own musical, has a small but symbolically rich role in Elisabeth.  His troubled nature is revealed early in Act II with the song “Mama, Wo Bist Du”, where the frightened and lonely child wonders why his mother never has time for him.  Death appears and comforts the small boy, forming a bond with the child to serve his own ends.  Later on, an older Rudolf is finally ready to embrace Death after a harsh confrontation with his mother, and dances to the “Mayerling Waltz”.  Death and his minions, dressed to represent Rudolf’s lover, Mary Vetsera, dance with him, and Death convinces him to commit suicide by gently handing him a revolver.  At Rudolf’s funeral, a crestfallen Elisabeth sings a reprise of Rudolf’s leitmotif, this time entitled “Totenklage”. 

 

Leitmotifs are also used to contrast altering emotional states in Elisabeth.  The love between Franz Josef and Elisabeth and its eventual loss are expressed through the same theme.  It is first heard in the duet “Nichts ist Schwer”, where the two declare that nothing matters now that they are in love.  Over time, however, Elisabeth begins to see her marriage for what it is, and grows apart from her politically-minded and overbearing husband.  Shortly before the final curtain, after many years have passed and Elisabeth has faced much hardship and loss, the theme reappears as a second duet called “Boote in der Nacht”: this time with Franz Josef begging Sisi to return home, but with her lamenting that they are ships passing in the night, and that love cannot heal the pains of their past.  Likewise, Sisi’s first song, “Wie Du”, where the carefree fifteen-year-old happily tells her father that she wants to be exactly like him, is reprised in Act II: this time with the aged, hardened Sisi hearing the voice of her long-departed father, still wishing to be like him, and having no desire to communicate with the living any longer.  The “Wie Du” reprise is made even more haunting by having Elisabeth and her father sing the song in a major key, with the orchestrations alternating between major and minor.  This reprise is a good example of the powerful effect transforming leitmotifs can have.  By having Sisi sing in a major key, it reflects the same happy longing that she had the first time she sang it.  By having the orchestrations in major and minor keys, it shows that her wishes are futile: she will not be granted her desires during her lifetime.

 

Archduchess Sophie is the primary antagonist of the piece, being an overbearing force on Elisabeth.  Her leitmotif first appears in “Eine Kaiserin Muss Glänzen”, where she provides strict rules that Sisi must obey, for an Empress must sparkle.  Directly before the Act I finale, Countess Eszterhazy, Sisi’s lady-in-waiting assigned to her by Sophie to oversee her education, sings the same theme, this time as “Uns’re Kaiserin Soll Sich Wiegen”, celebrating that Sisi is no longer a political threat as she has become too self-absorbed.  The theme is then heard again in Act II in a confrontation between Sophie and her son, Franz Josef, where she stands by her belief that Elisabeth was not meant to be an Empress.

 

Luigi Lucheni is one of the few characters to have any lines that are spoken, not sung.  He appears in nearly every scene to comment on the action and inform the audience on what is happening, usually as himself but occasionally in the guise of another to interact with the characters, therefore serving a function similar to Che Guevara’s role in Evita.  His primary leitmotif serves as the opening for Act II, “Kitsch”, where he snidely informs the audience of Elisabeth’s unfortunate commercial appeal.  It is reprised shortly before the final curtain as “Mein Neues Sortiment”, where he comments on his growing collection of Elisabeth “merchandise”.  The tempo is then made Rubato, and Lucheni foreshadows the ultimate fate of Elisabeth and Franz Josef’s relationship, which is revealed in the following scene in “Boote in der Nacht”.  His other major song is in Act I, entitled “Milch”, where he reveals to the citizens the reason as to why their access to milk has been cut off: it is being used to bathe the Empress.  The same melody is heard again in Act II as “Hass”, this time in a minor key, to represent another uprising by a sect of citizens: the hatred expressed by the Anti-Semites over Elisabeth’s decision to erect a statue of Jewish poet Heinrich Heine.  The song is performed entirely by the chorus and not Lucheni, and is chanted rather than sung, with the Anti-Semites dressed uniformly with porcelain doll masks and long braids.  In both cases, the song represents displeasure by a group of citizens over something Elisabeth has done.  This time, however, the crowd is in the wrong and Sisi is in the right.  It allows the audience to reconsider the negative connotations of its first use by portraying the Anti-Semites’ hate over a morally responsible decision made by Sisi; exactly the opposite meaning of its initial appearance.  It is a haunting image made even more potent by the harshness of the reprise.

 

The leitmotif associated most closely with the character of Elisabeth is first heard midway through Act I.  Lamenting the discipline being forced on her by her mother-in-law, Archduchess Sophie, at the Hapsburg court, she boldly declares that her life belongs to her in “Ich Gehör Nur Mir”.  It appears again in the Act I finale, first sung by Franz Josef as an apology to her for the discipline and limitations Sophie has been forcing on her.  Then it is sung by Elisabeth as she makes her entrance, wearing the famous white dress with her hair studded with diamonds, an image immortalized in the portrait by Franz Xaver Winterhalter.  As a symbolic homage to this portrait, the Vienna staging presents Elisabeth standing within a gold frame, in the exact same pose as in the portrait, before stepping out to assert her independence to both Franz Josef and Death.  Fittingly, since this is the music associated with Elisabeth’s desire for freedom, it also serves as the musical’s finale.  Both characters have achieved their through-actions: the assassinated Elisabeth finally embraces Death and the long awaited freedom that only her own death could provide, while Death declares that she belongs to him at long last, creating a powerful juxtaposition of their respective desires.  The final image is of Lucheni hovering overhead and tying a noose around his neck, preparing to embrace death as well.

 

As fittingly Wagnerian as Elisabeth is in many respects, it does not entirely conform to his musical ideal.  “Ich Gehör Nur Mir”, for example, has its longest rendition in Act I, when Sisi first sings it.  In its first incarnation, serving not so much to further the plot as to comment on Sisi’s desires, it is more akin to an aria than the through-music Wagner utilized.  The story pauses to allow Sisi to express her innermost thoughts, and the song is arguably written so as to showcase the vocal talent of the actress singing it.  It is therefore more of an opera seria moment, the type of opera Wagner loathed most, than an example of dramma per musica.  It is here that pop-opera proves itself to have opera seria tendencies, as most, if not all pop-operas, do include numbers specifically designed to show off the strengths of the singer, and are also carefully designed to be performed as stand-alone singles.  Given Wagner’s disdain for commercialism, he would not approve of this.   The song’s later renditions, however, are more Wagnerian in style, as they are shorter and actually work to advance the plot rather than just comment on it.

 

Certain numbers are only heard once.  Though most do flow cohesively into one another and work to advance the story, and their lack of repetition is a deliberate choice, their singularity distances them from Wagner’s idea of a cohesive score.  “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will”, for example, was written nine years after the opera’s premiere as an addition to the first production mounted in Germany, in Essen.  Ethan Mordden notes that people “hostile to pop-opera could adduce [such] endless retooling to their charges of insubstantial composition” (79).  The song’s contribution to the piece should not be underestimated, however, as it is the only true duet Elisabeth and Death have together, but it is more a comment on their love-hate relationship than a plot-moving device and is also a prime vocal showcase for both actors.  Pop-opera cynics may argue that it was only added as incentive to buy the Essen cast album to hear the “big new song”, and Wagner would undoubtedly loathe the idea of adding music only to boost commercial appeal instead of benefitting the work.  However, “Wenn Ich Tanzen Will” manages to strengthen the audience’s understanding of Sisi’s relationship with Death by showing her forcefully oppose his advances in addition to being entertaining.  It therefore inadvertently associates itself with the best of both opera seria and dramma per musica.

 

Whether he would have liked it or not, Richard Wagner’s theatrical reformations proved an invaluable resource to the development of future works of entertainment.  In any case, an idea as grand as the gesamtkunstwerk should not be meant to solely please the elite.  The splendor of all forms of art coming together into one spectacular whole could surely be appreciated by even the most uncultured of civilians.  Works like Elisabeth, chronicling the life of a famous historical figure, can educate as well as entertain.  This strengthens their appeal to a wider audience, for art can be valued by everyone in different ways.  In the end, it is up to each member of the audience to take what they will from theatrical works, and if one person, and one alone, finds total satisfaction with what he has seen, then the gesamtkunstwerk has been achieved.

 

Works Cited:

 

Borchmeyer, Dieter. Richard Wagner: Theory and Theatre. Trans. Stewart Spencer. Oxford: 

Clarendon, 1991. Print.

Carnegy, Patrick. Wagner and the Art of the Theatre. New Haven and London: Yale UP, 2006. Print.

Mordden, Ethan. The Happiest Corpse I've Ever Seen: The Last Twenty-Five Years of the Broadway Musical. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Print.

Elisabeth: Das Musical - Live aus dem Theater an der Wien. Dir. Harry Kupfer. By Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay. Perf. Maya Hakvoort, Máté Kamarás, Serkan Kaya, André Bauer, Else Ludwig. HitSquad Productions, 2005. DVD.

Kamarás, Máté – Backstage Elisabeth.  HitSquad Productions, 2005. DVD.

 Wagner, Nike. The Wagners: The Dramas of a Musical Dynasty. New York: Phoenix House, 2001. Print.

Byrne, Debra, and Michael Ball, perf. . Les Misérables: The Complete Symphonic Recording. By Alain

Boublil, Claude-Michel Schönberg, and Herbert Kretzmer. 1988. CD.

LuPone, Patti, and Mandy Patinkin, perf. Evita: Premiere American Recording. By Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. 1979. CD.

Staggs, Sam. Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard: Billy Wilder, Norma Desmond and the Dark Hollywood Dream. New York: St. Martin's, 2002. Print

Sunset Boulevard & William Archer: From Screen to Stage

In his Play-Making: A Manual of Craftsmanship, William Archer sets forth specific instructions and examples of how he feels plays should be executed.  Two crucial elements addressed by Archer are those of climax and anticlimax, as well as character conversion, for both of which he pinpoints the importance of proper execution.  While Archer does take issue with many plays’ treatment of these aspects, there have been attempts that align more closely with his views.  Andrew Lloyd Webber, Don Black and Christopher Hampton’s adaptation of the film Sunset Blvd., for example, reinterprets the story for the stage, and arguably incorporates aspects of Archer’s ideal into its structure.  When addressing the finale and character conversions in Sunset Boulevard, one will see aspects that Archer would indeed agree with.  A close analysis can highlight the specific relations to Archer’s ideal.

In Chapter 18 of his Play-Making, Archer notes the difficulty of properly executing the final act of a play, especially the falling of the curtain.  The timing of the curtain fall is crucial, and “a playwright should never let his audience expect the fall of a curtain at a given point, and then balk their expectancy…”(34).  Black and Hampton made the wise decision to retain the film Sunset Blvd. ending for the stage, as both provide an ideal curtain moment.  The climax of the play occurs in scene 18, when all the main characters collide and their agendas become known, specifically Joe Gillis revealing the truth to Norma Desmond about her forgotten stardom and preparing to leave her.  The tension escalates until Norma, proudly proclaiming “I’m the greatest star of them all” (164), shoots Gillis dead.  While this effectively ends the climactic moment, it would be unsatisfying to have the curtain fall after the last gunshot rings out.  Archer would surely agree that audiences would not “feel the moment to be rightly chosen ”(34),  as there would be too much curiosity as to what happened to Norma immediately following the aftermath.  

The following scene, though short, provides a strong conclusion.  Norma has surrendered completely to her delusions and, believing she is in the studio making her cinematic return, declares: “And now, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up” (165), completely oblivious that the police are there to take her away.  It is at this precise moment where Norma’s delusions prepare to collide with reality, and to witness the actual collision would be inappropriate.  Audiences do not need to see what becomes of Norma after leaving the mansion.  Archer would surely commend Black and Hampton for not letting it “drag on when the audience feels in its heart that it is really over, and that ‘the rest is silence’ – or ought to be.” (34).  Norma’s ultimate fate should indeed remain silent, and it thankfully does so.  Film historian Sam Staggs concludes that Norma “came from the country of movie stars, a city-state outside the geography of our understanding.  And that’s where she returned in the end.” (Close-up on Sunset Boulevard, 362).  The final scene shows just enough to reveal what happened to her mind; her final destination is best left as an enigma. 

With the exception of her descent into madness, Norma is a largely consistent character.  Her primary desire to film her Salome script does not falter, nor does her fragile emotional state.  Joe Gillis, however, does undergo conversions of both will and sentiment.  When he first meets Norma, his main volition is to earn some desperately needed cash to make his car payments, lamenting that “if I lose that in this town, it’s like having my legs cut off” (141).  Even though he knew her script was a lost cause from the start, his desperation motivated his decision.  Not until the end of act 1 does he undergo a change in sentiment in his feelings for Norma, returning to her after their New Years party confrontation to console her and succumbing to her desires.  Even though he knew her script was hopeless, he was able to admit honestly that “You’ve been good to me.  You’re the only person in this stinking town that’s ever been good to me” (155), before passionately kissing her.  Director Susan Shulman, who helmed the 2^nd U.S. Tour of Sunset Boulevard, felt it crucial to fully express “that Joe [falls] in love with Norma, even if it’s for the briefest period of time” (Staggs, 361).   Since Archer felt strongly that changes in sentiment “should not merely be asserted, but proved” (35), the kiss Joe gives Norma serves as concrete proof of his present feelings.

These conversions, though important to the plot, are only fleeting.  The strongest conversion Joe makes is at the end of the play.  He has fallen in love with Betty Schaeffer by this point, a love far more honest and less shameful than his relationship with Norma.  Archer’s disappointment that changes in volition “are not always adequately motivated” (35) would assuredly not carry over into Sunset Boulevard.  Joe Gillis’s decision to free Betty Schaeffer and leave Norma is the culmination of the character’s journey; his shame at selling out and aiding Norma’s dementia becomes too great to handle, and he fully admits his regret in his final speeches to both Betty and Norma.  His change of will also incorporates a change in sentiment; his love for Norma was merely temporary.  Like her impossible screenplay, their love was a delusional hope from the start, a love that ultimately proved fatal to Gillis and maddening to Norma.

William Archer would probably find Sunset Boulevard to be satisfying on many levels.  The writers did not merely copy the film, but reworked it “to meet the demands of music and the stage” (Staggs, 321), structuring it with theatrical guidelines Archer himself believed in.  Though the play may not feature an original story, its plot and characters reflect the complexity of classic dramas that preceded it.  Most importantly to Archer’s guidelines, it presents characters that develop appropriately and culminates in an emotionally satisfying final curtain.

Works Cited:
Archer, William. Play-Making: A Manual of Craftsmanship - Dramaturgy Handbook. PP. 32-36
Perry, George. Sunset Boulevard: From Movie to Musical. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1993. Print.
Staggs, Sam. Close-Up on Sunset Boulevard: Billy Wilder, Norma Desmond and the Dark Hollywood Dream. New York: St. Martin's, 2002. Print.