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 20th 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 20th 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.
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
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