Fidelio. Characterization of the characters... How?

As a layperson, I have a fundamental question: do you think Fidelio is an opera? I ask because it is actually based on a story that I don't know how theatrical it is.

It certainly has its absolute unity, its characterization of characters, its drama and its happy ending. It seems to me that the dialogues serve to stitch together the parts of the story, not to fragment it, but this does not work "against" the "opera," and even Carmen has a version with spoken dialogue (which are quite boring, to be honest).

What do you think?

To the question you pose, Luca, it would have been nice if Barenboim had answered, and thus, in the absence of the maestro, I will try, undeservedly. Although I think anyone who knows this work and knows much more about music than me could do it far better.

I will therefore start from Barbara's question because, consequently, I will be able to link it back to yours.

Fidelio, in fact, is not an opera that can be understood within the scope of Italian melodrama; it is a German Singspiel. The Singspiel was born towards the end of the Baroque era in Germany and, precisely in opposition to the then-prevailing Italian melodrama—and following the line of the French opéra-comique, which instead approached the already existing tragédie-lyrique (“Carmen” belongs to the opéra comique and for this reason, initially had spoken recitatives).

The Singspiel was characterized by the narration of everyday, adventurous, or even historical events, but not mythological or tragic ones. The recitatives were exclusively spoken—and thus not sung as in Italian opera—and the vocal pieces were simple and strophic, just like in Lieder.

With the arrival of Mozart, things changed: “Die Entführung aus dem Serail” and “Die Zauberflöte,” while having spoken recitatives, introduce symphonism and, at least in part, Italian vocalism into the Singspiel.

And so we arrive at our Fidelio. Its legacy, and its debt to “Die Zauberflöte,” is totally evident; Beethoven himself defined it as a “Die Zauberflöte” set not in a fairy-tale world: the theme is the same—which is also the typical theme of the Enlightenment and Freemasonry of the time—the victory of light over darkness. But, in it, symphonic tradition mixes with operatic tradition and, within the latter, opera buffa and opera seria overlap, between Singspiel and the French opéra de sauvetage.

For this reason, it is very important that the conductor who decides to interpret it knows how to integrate these particularities, always creating continuity rather than fractures between the various aspects of the opera. The orchestra is entrusted with the dual task of unifying and differentiating the various parts: it does not merely accompany, but assumes a priority role in telling the story.

While Marzelline and Jaquino are two characters belonging completely to opera buffa and thus, as such, musically and scenically definable, the figure of Rocco is much more complex.

Rocco is, from a strictly musical point of view, a “basso buffo,” and this role is inherent in the writing of his entire part. However, he must succeed in expressing the various facets of the character only through the modulation of the voice: his relationship with Leonore and her daughter Marzelline, the internal conflict he feels toward Pizarro's orders, and finally, pity for the prisoner Florestan. It sounds easy, but it is not at all.

The difficulty in interpreting Don Pizarro lies in being able to convey the monumentality of evil to the listener. Pizarro must appear extremely wicked, inflexible, completely without any trace of humanity, and in this, the phrasing accompanied by an impeccable interpretation makes the difference.

Absolutely difficult, on the other hand, from a vocal—and therefore musical—point of view, is Leonore's part due to a writing that insistently hits the treacherous area of the register break (passaggio), which moves with extreme ease from natural 'si' to notes below the staff, and more.

The musical figure of Florestan is given, above all, obviously, by the recitative and aria “Gott!! Welch Dunkel hier!...”, which is absolutely treacherous even for the tenor, who should blend completely with the sound of the orchestra to such an extent that his singing seems to come from the pit that houses it and take expressive power from being in unison with the violins, from whose piano he explodes into a desperate and dramatic cry coming from the dark prison; because the work on sound that Beethoven does in almost this entire opera, and particularly in this moment, is never an end in itself, but always has precise dramaturgical purposes. And it is above all on this particular detail that the relevance of this score lies, which recalls certain techniques used in the 20th century such as Schönbergian Sprechstimme.

But the relevance of the composition and more generally of Beethoven's production, as we know, is not perceptible only from the point of view of musical language, but also from that of History in a broad sense. Everything that happened in the last century and even what is happening in this century is its most glaring demonstration, unfortunately, and it is for all this that Fidelio rises as a symbol that is never out of date.

«Everything that happened in the last century and still happens in this century is its most glaring demonstration, unfortunately, and it is for all this that Fidelio rises as a symbol that is never out of time».

Purtroppo è vero Daniele.

Per il resto, per quanto concerne gli aspetti musicali, ti ringrazio.

Reading Luca's question, I would have liked to suggest an in-depth study on the development of opera seria and buffa in the early 1700s and how they evolved after the mid-1700s with reference to France; indeed, reading Daniele's intervention, there are explicit references:

danielescarpetti wrote:

If Marzelline and Jaquino are two characters belonging completely to opera buffa and thus, as such, musically and scenically definable, the figure of Rocco is much more complex.

Rocco is, from a strictly musical point of view, a "basso buffo" and, this role of his, is inherent in the writing of his entire part. However, he must succeed, solely through the modulation of his voice, in expressing the various facets of the character: his relationship with Leonore and her daughter Marzelline, the internal conflict he feels towards Pizarro's orders, and finally, pity for the prisoner Florestan. It seems easy but it is not at all.

The issue, however, is somewhat complex and as always much space is needed, and I will unfortunately be prolix; it is important to know the production system of opera in the early 1700s and how the role of the singer and the composer fits within it.
It is fundamental to know the structure of the libretto and to digest the works preceding Fidelio. I don't know if Zeno, Metastasio, and Hasse suggest anything; various arguments can also be made regarding form.

These could be the premises for understanding the theatrical development in Parma and Vienna, and we are almost there.

Obviously, we are talking about Ranieri de' Calzabigi and C.W. Gluck and of a reform that has more of the flavor of "transformation." One can understand what happens within the scope of Opera Seria and why it arises, how it develops, and what impact opera buffa has.
Consider that despite speaking of two genres, the performers are the same. The destination changes:
- Opera seria $\rightarrow$ intended for an aristocratic audience
- Opera buffa $\rightarrow$ intended for a bourgeois or popular audience

Thus, it is necessary to mention musical comedy, which is of broad dimensions and is based on defined characters and roles, where scenes of daily life of a playful character were represented. Consider also the fact that the success of all this also derives from the fact that the costs of staging were decidedly low. Money commands and has always commanded, and indeed this new genre occurred thanks to the fact that it could be performed by a company made up of only a few members.

The new theaters specialize in the staging of opera buffa, and the most important ones stage works of both genres.
The composer assumes a more important role as the intervention of the virtuoso soloist, which no longer conditioned compositional choices, is limited.
The composer must commit to composing pieces of different character: duets, arias, ensemble pieces, strictly linked to the scenic action and the psychological characteristics of the characters.
J. J. Rousseau also appreciates the naturalness and simplicity of Italian opera buffa and, stimulated by this new genre, wrote "L'indovino del villaggio" (Paris, 1752), considered the prototype of opéra comique.
The first production of these intermezzos for two buffo characters (a man and a woman) was presented in Venice at the beginning of the 1700s.
From 1720 to 1730 in Naples, the musical comedy tradition with a more complex structure in 2 or 3 acts was formed, which preludes to the dramma giocoso (Hasse, Vinci, Leo, and Pergolesi).

Here we enter the heart of the matter:
The librettos do not have great literary merit, where the plot, the interplay of parts, and disguises were important; the mechanisms were perfect for scenic functionality, and the plots are strictly linked to verbal-mimic action.
The characters are 2 or at most 3; the story unfolds amidst squabbles, deceits, and misunderstandings that resolve happily.
The subjects are drawn from commedia dell'arte:
- such as the prevarication of the clever servant over the foolish master
- that of the clever young girl who deceives her husband or lover. See also the theme of the jealous husband or the unfaithful wife who eventually reconcile.

The recurring theme is the contrast between passion and class prejudice; the emblematic character is the maidservant who, with cunning and charm, seduces the rich master and convinces him to marry her.

An example is "La serva padrona" by Pergolesi, written for a bass, a soprano, a third character, and strings.

It goes on stage as an intermezzo of another opera seria, also by Pergolesi; the structure of the intermezzo is formed by recitatives, 7 closed pieces, 2 duets, and 5 arias.

The commedia per musica was born in Naples, parallel to the dialectal prose comedy. Its structure is more complex and involves the presence of several characters who develop the plot in 2 or 3 acts.
Si

also presents the sentimental and melancholic element of the events in which serious and comic characters act, thus presenting different languages and a plurality of styles; the serious characters belong to the bourgeoisie, while the funny ones are of plebeian abstraction.
The work "lo frate innamorato" (Naples, 1732) by Pergolesi narrates the sentimental entanglements and planned and impossible marriages among several candidate brides and a male character.
From 1730 onwards, the text used will be in the Italian language.
In the dramma giocoso, themes of disguise develop, which is only revealed at the end of the show.
Respecting the veracity of the facts and the narrated events, the voices are real (not castrati).
The female voice interprets characters with specific nuances; the soprano voice is entrusted to characters of character, the contralto voice to characters such as the old woman or the mother-in-law.
The main male character was the bass or the baritone, a comic character with particular mimetic characteristics.
The tenor is entrusted with mezzo-carattere parts: the lover, the noble, the upper bourgeoisie.
The scenic action takes precedence over recitative and aria; the dialogue between characters is important. The famous concertati d'azione, often found at the end of the act, serve to contrast the various characters and make the scene dynamic, and the act finales often coincided with the culminating moments of the story.

Here you can trace the characterization of the characters.

What happens next in opera buffa?
- The spread of opera buffa is favored by the encounter between Venetian and Neapolitan music.
- Thanks to the Venetian playwright and librettist Carlo Goldoni, author of 15 intermezzi and 55 drammi giocosi, which are set to music by various composers with the structure defined in 2 or 3 acts.
The structure of the libretto is varied and presents caricatural situations, along with an increase in serious characters.
He contributes to the development of the sentimental component of the dramma buffo (commedia lacrimosa).
In Goldoni's libretti, comic, ironic, and historical effects are present, based on the contrast of styles, and the constant theme is the contrast between social classes (nobles, peasants, and artisans) and their romantic conflicts.
The libretto "Il filosofo di campagna" is set to music by the Venetian Baldassarre Galuppi, a composer who set 20 of Goldoni's comic dramas to music.
An interesting example is represented by the libretto "Arcadia in Brenta," where theater within theater manifests itself—that is, the story of a group of vacationers preparing to perform a comedy.
The sentimental tendency of opera buffa is present in the libretto "Cecchina," or The Good Daughter, set to music by E. Romualdo Duni and Nicolò Piccinni (the opera was a success with several revivals in different opera houses).
A new genre called semi-serio emerges, where 3 stylistic levels linked to different social backgrounds are distinguished.
- The serious parts entrusted to nobles
- The mezzo-carattere roles for lovers
- The comic parts for plebeian characters
The three stylistic levels contrast in solo pieces and overlap in ensemble concertati.
The serious parts are entrusted with da capo arias, of a virtuoso nature and rich in expressiveness.
The comic characters express themselves in a simpler way and with more immediate language.
Composers of the era pay particular attention to the concertati placed at the end of the acts; see, for example, also the concerted finales of serious operas ("Clemenza di Tito" by Mozart, Prague 1791).
Ensemble pieces are also placed in other parts, for example, at the beginning of Act I or II.

That being said, one should also understand what happens in France. I consider it fundamental because Daniele's intervention reaches its conclusion, but Beethoven's work is the result of a journey that I think is useful to explicate.

As they used to say, l’opera–comique....
The evolution and transformation of French opera occur thanks to the maturation of the literary/musical style of the opera-comique (the adjective comique indicates the presence of acting).
The new genre of spectacle is formed by arias, duets, etc., and spoken dialogues without musical accompaniment, often alternating with orchestral music. Before 1700, this was a more theatrical than musical genre, with more dialogue than music and with the use of simple, popular melodies called "vaudevilles" and the insertion of arias taken from Tragedie Lyrique.
In the second half of the eighteenth century, sung parts increase, and under the influence of the literary genre of "dramma lacrimoso," the comic and satirical tone is surpassed in favor of sentimental, serious, or semi-serious subjects. The opera-comique, in its most mature phase, is also called "dramma mescolato di arie" and uses the following

forms:
1. The romance is a solo vocal piece with a strophic structure of a poetic/sentimental character, featuring simple harmonies, rhythms, and melodic turns.
2. Solo vocal forms in rondo form, with refrains in the same key and same text alternating with stanzas in different keys.
3. The vaudeville final (Final song) with a series of stanzas performed by individual characters and a collective refrain.
Egidio Romualdi Duni (1708-1775), a composer originally from Matera, trained in Naples, worked in Paris from 1757 to 1770 and composed 22 opéra-comiques, implementing a transformation through the insertion of elements from Italian opera buffa. Other authors dedicated themselves to opéra-comique such as F.A. Philidor, P.A. Monsigny, and N.M. Dalayrac, author of “Nina ou la folle par amour” (Nina or the madwoman for love - Paris, 1786). It is noteworthy that pathetic-sentimental tones typical of the 'commedia lacrimosa' were inserted. This opera achieved success also thanks to the score by G.B. Pergolesi performed at the Caserta royal palace in 1789.
Thanks to A.E.M. Getry (1741-1813), opéra-comique became similar to opera seria with the insertion of patriotic and liberal subjects such as Riccardo Cuor di Leone (1784) and William Tell (1791); this composer deserves credit for having used orchestral timbre to introduce and make the landscape or a particular situation expressive and realistic.

In the revolutionary decade and the Napoleonic period 1790-1815, operatic language was enriched with literary themes, and the production of large outdoor spectacles was favored to keep the population united through the representation of themes inspired by patriotism. Opera also opened up to the bourgeois and artisan public and was characterized by heroic shows and imaginative, extravagant scenes. The novelty was given by the insertion of "Gothic" or "dark" subjects with lugubrious events set in the medieval period. These subjects, especially from the novels of Horace Walpole (1717-1797), were transferred into opéra-comique with the insertion of the piece à souvetage, characterized by a plot involving an "in extremis" liberation of the protagonist from various perils (for example, the opposition between a tyrant and a hero who frees himself from unjust torture).

In this context, he found great favor in the story of “Léonore, ou L’amour conyugal” (Leonora, or conjugal love), set to music (1798) by P. Gaveaux and the source of subsequent works by Pear, Mayr, and Beethoven (Fidelio, 1805).

As we know well, the subject is based on a real event that occurred in a French prison during the "Terror," where a lady disguised in men's clothing manages to enter the prison where her husband is unjustly imprisoned and defends him, pistol in hand, against his persecutor while waiting for the arrival of the minister who will then free all the innocent prisoners (here the coup de théâtre/plot twist is introduced: unforeseen events that change the course of events and are inserted at key moments of the story).

The interesting thing is that the development of theatricality is extensively illustrated by the detailed scenic indications contained in the scores and librettos.

In another topic, the gunshot was discussed... a reflection should also be directed towards the technical realization of a coup de théâtre
http://www.pianoconcerto.it/forum/index.php?/topic/4224-domenica-7-dicembre-la-scala-apre-con-fidelio/

Frank wrote:

In another topic, the gunshot was being discussed... a reflection should also be directed towards the technical realization of a coup de theatre

http://www.pianoconcerto.it/forum/index.php?/topic/4224-domenica-7-dicembre-la-scala-apre-con-fidelio/

I agree with everything you wrote, Frank, but I have some perplexity regarding this last statement of yours.

It is one thing to speak of coup de théâtre and quite another to speak of directorial choices of an arbitrary nature which, as such, aim to convey a message that belongs solely to the director.

From my point of view, what happened in the Milanese Fidelio falls into the second category and, as such, must be judged, obviously, for better or for worse.

danielescarpetti wrote:

I have some perplexity regarding this latest statement of yours.

My statement is an invitation to reflection; in general, I don't think one can agree or disagree with an invitation; at most, one can decide whether or not to reflect.

But in other terms (I can imagine I was not very clear), I can say that I was unable to follow that direction, so I cannot comment on the gunshot, but for those who saw and heard it, the invitation was to relate comments to any plot twists, whether of good or bad taste. In this regard, must a direction take into account the time in which an opera is performed? And in this specific case, are we currently in a time of good or bad taste?

This question is closely linked to the contemporaneity of an interpretation, but it also applies to the world of composition.

... a choice can also be philological interpretation. In short, all elements for reflection.

danielescarpetti wrote:

directorial choices of an arbitrary character and that, as such, have the aim of sending a message that belongs solely to the director.

Don't you think the same could be said of Gould on Bach? And yet Gould's message is valid nonetheless. Besides, tastes aside, how far can the autonomy of an interpreter go?

Frank wrote:

are we today in a time of good or bad taste?

Frank wrote:

My statement is an invitation to reflection; in general, I don't think one can agree or disagree with an invitation; at most, one can decide whether or not to reflect.

... a choice can also be the philological interpretation. In short, all elements for reflection.

And indeed, there is food for thought regarding at least three different discussions.

Dear Frank,
your historical-theatrical excursus is useful, beautiful, not prolix (it is what it is), and it is also readable by a symphonic/chamber listener like me who knows practically zero about musical theater. However, rewriting the question that Dall'Ongaro asked Barenboim, "How does Beethoven musically characterize his characters?", I would have expected answers along the lines of the discussion 'the harmonic language of Brahms'.

In short: I wanted sea bass!
if you cook me gilthead seabream... I'll eat it anyway.

I like gilthead seabream; besides, you cooked it divinely!

From your intervention, I take away that, even in the theatrical field, someone like Beethoven is a child of his own era.

In other artistic fields as well, I find it very interesting to investigate the historical roots of a work. No one, no matter how great and innovative, is detached from their own artistic background.

And so... 'like this'.

danielescarpetti wrote:

I am fine with everything you wrote, Frank, but I have some perplexity regarding this last statement of yours.

It is one thing to speak of a coup de théâtre and quite another to speak of directorial choices of an arbitrary nature which, as such, aim to convey a message that belongs solely to the director.

From my point of view, what happened in the Milanese Fidelio falls into the second category and, as such, must be judged, obviously, for better or for worse.

Frank wrote:

My statement is an invitation to reflection; in general, I do not think one can agree or disagree with an invitation; at most, one can decide whether or not to reflect.

Frank, I did not write that I disagree with an invitation; I wrote that I am perplexed by that invitation and, I think, this is quite different and... legitimate.

I am perplexed—and I repeat myself—because I cannot consider the gunshot in the Milanese Fidelio a coup de théâtre, but rather an arbitrariness of the director; thus, you are inviting me (us) to reflect, from my point of view, on something that certainly deserves all the reflection one wants, but which has nothing to do with what actually happened.

You say you didn't see it, so allow me to recount the matter: after the chorus sings what I wrote above, Pizarro, in the Milanese production, is not taken away as the libretto says, but escapes; and once he has exited the stage, a shot is heard, the meaning of which leaves very little doubt, unless someone tells me it was a suicide, but I don't believe that.

Therefore, for me, it is not a coup de théâtre but an arbitrariness that the director took upon the text.

To cut to the chase, however one wishes to define it, from my point of view, it is an unfortunate choice—not because of the arbitrariness or the coup de théâtre, so to speak, but because of the message that results from it, and here I reconnect to the second part of this last intervention.

Frank wrote:

But in other terms (I can imagine I was not very clear), I can say that I could not follow that direction, so I cannot comment on the gunshot; but for those who saw and heard it, the invitation was to relate comments to any plot twists, whether of good or bad taste. In this regard, must a production take into account the time in which an opera is performed? And in this specific case, are we living in a time of good or bad taste?

This question is closely linked to the contemporaneity of an interpretation, but it also applies to the world of composition.

Here too, the right question to reflect upon, in my opinion, could be: what message does a director want to convey when staging an opera that was conceived a century or two centuries ago, in different historical contexts and with languages very different from today's? Fidelio is usually represented today as an anthem to marital love, passion, and justice. In the Milanese Fidelio, this intention is absolutely central throughout its entire staging. Modernization: the story takes place in one of those factories where labor from the third or fourth world could be exploited as slaves; when the prisoners climb up from the gloomy prisons to get some fresh air, it feels like witnessing the scene from Fritz Lang's Metropolis, when the workers enter their factory: the scene is almost identical. Then that gunshot which, in an instant—precisely—nullifies and overshadows all the good intentions expressed up to that point by the direction and scenography—which we must not forget, as in the staging of past works they play a role in symbiosis of intent—since there is no justice where the logic of the death penalty triumphs, even if what is killed is the most terrible of humans.

This is all that we should reflect upon, from my point of view.

Are we living in a time of bad or good taste?

I am inclined to give you this answer: all in all, if we think about it, we are emerging from the best period the history of the Western world has experienced since the Stone Age: 60 years of substantial peace and economic growth, which had never happened before; but we now find ourselves facing an epochal turning point, and what will follow will depend greatly on the choices made today. In this historical, social, and economic climate, Western Art has paradoxically often produced products of absolute bad taste. And we should reflect on this as well.

Tiger wrote:

Don't you think one could say the same about Gould regarding Bach? Yet Gould's message is still valid. Besides, tastes aside, how far can an interpreter's autonomy go?

Even here: a musical interpreter's autonomy—even Gould's—cannot disregard the written notes, whereas the autonomy of the director and the [text]...

a set designer can freely disregard what has been written. And this makes a big difference between the two things. No?