When the Hero isn’t Quite Heroic

The Clueless Heroes in Classical Operas

by Maureen Buja, Interlude

Throughout most of the opera, there are certain tropes that repeat and repeat: the heroine will die of some wasting disease (La Bohéme, La Traviata, etc.), the hero will save the day (Die Zauberflöte), and so on. There are some operas, however, where it’s the idiot or the simpleton who saves the day.

Richard Strauss: Guntram

In Richard Strauss’ unsuccessful opera Guntram, our title character is a minstrel. He first dissuades duchess Freihild from drowning herself. He then goes to her husband, Duke Robert, a grasping tyrant, and sings a song to peace and generous rulers, which doesn’t go over very well, and then urges rebellion against the duke. The duke attacks our minstrel, who turns out to be a knight-minstrel and slays the duke. While imprisoned, Guntram realizes that, although he spoke of liberation, he was really acting out of love for Freihild. He decides that in atonement, he will spend the rest of his life in solitude, while gazing upon the benevolent reign of Freihild.

Guntram (Heinrich Zeller) and Freihild (Pauline de Ahna), 1894, Weimar

Richard Wagner: Siegfried

This is Strauss at his most Wagnerian, and the minstrel (perhaps standing in for the composer) was an unusual hero for an opera. However, if we look at Wagner, we have another idiot hero. Siegfried is a boy from the forest. Raised by Mime the dwarf, Siegfried despises his foster father and declares that he only stays until Mime tells him about his childhood. Mime tells him about Sieglinde and Siegmund and how Sieglinde died giving birth to Siegfried. Only Siegfried, the ‘one who knows no fear,’ can forge the great sword Nothung and after slicing Mime’s anvil in half, goes off to fight Fafner, the dragon left over from the first Ring opera.

Jay Hunter Morris as Siegfried (Metropolitan Opera)

Siegfried, raised only by Mime, is such an innocent that when he gets to his pre-destined role in this opera, rescuing Brünnhilde from the ring of fire her father has imprisoned her in, that he unwittingly utters the funniest line in the entire Ring cycle: “Das ist kein Mann!” (That is no man!), as he removes her armour. He’s one of the rare slices first, ask questions later opera heroes.

Modest Mussorgsky: Boris Godunov

The opera Boris Godunov has a character called a ‘yuródivïy,’ i.e., a fool for Christ. These Holy Fools act intentionally foolish, to ‘conceal their perfection from the world.’ The yuródivïy appears in Act IV, chased by children and singing a nonsense song. As the Pretender readies himself for his march on Boris, the yuródivïy sings a song predicting the difficulties that the country will soon face (Flow, flow, bitter tears!).

Sam Furness as the Holy Fool in Boris Godunov, 2019 (The Royal Opera) (Photo by Clive Barda)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Die Zauberflöte

In Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte, we have the unique character of Papageno. A bird-catcher by profession, he’s seemingly half-bird himself.

Emanuel Schikaneder, librettist of Die Zauberflöte, shown performing in the role of Papageno as shown in the first edition of the libretto

He’s not above lying to Tamino about how he killed the fearsome serpent, but when he’s pressed into service for our hero, he’s the first one to actually discover the kidnapped Pamina. Through the trial sequence, despite being told over and over to be silent, he can’t keep still. Banished from the test, he is saved by the appearance of his own half-bird woman, Papagena. We know that Tamino and Pamina will have a difficult intellectual life but that the two simpletons, Papagena and Papageno are only intending to have many, many, many children.

Papageno (Jonathan Michie) and Papagena (Hye-Jung Lee) and children (Florida Grand Opera)

Giuseppe Verdi: Falstaff

We could also consider Verdi’s Falstaff as the idiot hero – used to a life of pleasure when he hung around with Prince Hal, he’s no longer the center stage when Hal becomes King Henry. His attempts to seduce women end with him being thrown in the river with the laundry and his forest appearance as the ghost of Herne the Hunter, complete with stag horns.

Robert Smirke: Fallstaff with his horns

Idiots and half-men, religious fanatics and social innocents – all have their place in the world of opera.

Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767): From Hero to Zero

by Georg Predota, Interlude

It really is too bad that Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767) did not have a large social network following! Throughout his long and industrious career, he wrote well over 3000 works. It’s no surprise that 18th-century critics unanimously considered him among the best composers of his time. Leading theorists held up his works as compositional models, and his fame extended to Holland, Switzerland, Belgium, France, Italy, England, Spain, Norway, Denmark and the Baltic lands. Yet by the early years of the 19th century, appreciation of Telemann’s music was in rapid decline. The main criticism turned out to be rather tongue in cheek. “In general,” a music historian wrote, “Telemann would have been greater had it not been so easy for him to write so unspeakably much. Polygraphs seldom produce masterpieces.” And once his music was compared according to the very different aesthetic standards of J. S. Bach, Telemann was judged to be merely “fashionable.” Telemann’s music has gradually made a comeback beginning in the 1980s, so let’s continue to give two thumbs up for one of the most famous and versatile composers of his time!

During his career as a composer of church music Telemann wrote at least 1700 cantatas! Always imaginative in his handling of vocal and instrumental color, Telemann’s transparent counterpoint was highly valued by his contemporaries. As you might well imagine, his cantata settings embrace a wide range of styles, forms and employment of instrumental forces. Significantly, a substantial number of Telemann’s sacred cantatas were not exclusively tied to performances in sacred venues, but could also be used for domestic devotions. In the foreword to the second collection of the Harmonischer Gottes-Dienst (Harmonic Service to the Lord) of 1731 he writes, “Two instruments of dissimilar kinds are so arranged that one person of his own can make us of the clavier without the addition of another instrument.”

Telemann is known to have composed approximately 125 orchestral suites, 125 concertos, several dozen other orchestral works and sonatas in five to seven parts, nearly 40 quartets, 130 trios, 87 solos, 80 works for one to four instruments without bass and roughly 250 pieces for keyboard. Now that’s what I call a life’s work! For the most part Telemann wrote his instrumental works for small performing forces, making them appropriate for domestic use. Historically significant, Telemann popularized the French-style orchestral suite in Germany paving the way for the works of J. S. Bach and others. Telemann was a kind and gentle man capable of witty humor, so entire works or individual movements have amusing programmatic titles. The Suite Burlesque de Quixotte includes the famous attack on the windmills, and the Suite La Bourse offers a musical account of the Parisian stock market crash of 1720! 

In his autobiography of 1718, Telemann proudly declared, “I am no great lover of the concerto.” Yet his 125 efforts in this genre do represent the history of the concerto in Germany during the first half of the 18th century. Early works resemble contemporary works by Torelli and Albinoni, but gradually Telemann introduced the highly popular ritornello structure used by Vivaldi. Blending the Italian concerto with French stylistic elements produced works that focused on innovations in scoring, style and structure. And did I mention rather unusual instrumental combinations? The point is, Telemann absolutely hated empty displays of virtuosity, instead insisting that every note or unusual instrument serve the musical purpose of the work.

Although only 29 operas are extant today, Telemann claimed to have written more than 50 works over a period of three decades. While we may certainly mourn the permanent loss of so many works, historians have rightfully suggested, “Telemann was the most important composer of German-language opera in the first half of the 18th century.” And as you might already have guessed, he had a special gift for writing comic operas. The comic intermezzo Die Ungleiche Heirat zwischen Vespetta und Pimpinone oder Das herrschsüchtige Kammer Mägdchen “The Unequal Marriage Between Vespetta and Pimpinone or The Domineering Chambermaid” was first performed between acts of Handel’s Tamerlano in 1725. It recounts the timeless story of a young chambermaid who marries her old but rich employer, and in due course completely dominates the relationship. And if you have read my previous article “The Maid as Mistress”, you already know that the subject matter was a mirror of Telemann’s own marital situation. You can’t but admire a man who laughs at his own misfortune!