This is Strauss' final opera, and like Ariadne auf Naxos, it's a meta-opera, though in a different way. So it's the eighteenth century, and the Countess has two suitors, Flamand, a composer; and Olivier, a poet. Also present are the Countess' actor brother (were nobles able to be actors back in the day? Seems like it would be felt to be beneath them); Clairon, an actress; and La Roche, a theatrical director. The Countess can't decide which of her suitors she prefers, and they all have a more or less friendly debate about which takes artistic precedence, words or music? It's symbolic, you see. After this peters out, the Countess commissions a new opera, which is going to be about the argument they just had, with characters like them. Whoooooah, man. Everyone leaves, but they request that she tell them what ending she wants. Who will it be, the musician or the poet? Is there a good way of resolving this, or does the force of the argument lie in its being unresolved?
Gorgeous music, far moreso than the nazis deserved. I mean, granted, what they deserved was off-key shrieking accompanied by literal nails on a chalkboard, pumped at deafening volume into their ears, but eh. Strauss' artistry is not in question. Granted, very little actually happenshere, and at times it does get a little dry; I could forgive an audience member for shouting "FOR GOD'S SAKE SOMEBODY STAB SOMEBODY" during the argument. But basically it's great; no denying it. This Met production features Renée Fleming as the Countess, and hey, nothin' wrong with that. I may have seen some of the others here or there, but none are super-familiar to me. Everyone's good, though.
The production transplants the action to the 1920s, which is fine, although a little bit momentarily confusing when the libretto refers to Gluck and Rameau and you realize, oh, wait, they're supposed to be talking about contemporary or near-contemporary composers. Also, what REALLY confused me was...IS it meant to be the eighteenth century? I sure think it is, but the libretto sure does refer to people leaving in coupes and limousines. I can't imagine that the Met would modify it, so it must be just an anachronism. Or so I think.
We have to talk about the fact that this opera premiered in Nazi Germany at its height (depth), or at least I want to. You can read a longish section about "Strauss in Nazi Germany" on his wikipedia page. In summary: he did try to work with the nazi government in the early- to mid-thirties before remaining aloof from their ideology became obviously untenable. He never personally evinced any anti-Semtism, and in fact protected his Jewish daughter-in-law and grandchildren from the Holocaust (the fact that that was even possible modifies one's view of the time and place somewhat--we have this image of it as an all-encompassing evil, and that's not inaccurate, but at the same time, celebrities could apparently go against the grain without suffering personally). You can see he could've/should've done more, but I really don't think you can judge someone in a situation like that as long as they aren't actually pro-genocide. He's basically okay.
Still, it does give one slight pause that, in the quotes from his letters on that wikipedia page, his main beef with the nazis is that they were "untalented" or "incompetent. I mean, sure, but...there's a quote from a letter to his (Jewish) libretticist Stefan Zwieg: "Do you believe I am ever, in any of my actions, guided by the thought that I am 'German'? Do you suppose Mozart was consciously 'Aryan' when he composed?" and you think yes! This exactly! This perfectly encapsulates the idiocy of white supremacists pointing to the likes of Shakespeare and, yes, Mozart as evidence of white supremacy. But then he goes on to conclude: "I recognise only two types of people: those who have talent and those who have none," and you think, weeeell...okaaaay...but, just to be clear, you'd be against industrialized murder even if the victims had no discernible talents and the death camp administrators were musical geniuses? Right? I mean, I have no doubt that he would have been, I don't believe for a moment that he was in any way sympathetic to nazi ideology (such as it was), but this dividing people into "talented" and "talentless" seems like a weirdly inhuman way to frame it. Possibly being a genius twist your thinking a little.
Anyway, so, this was first screened for Nazis, which does not make you want to shout, COOL. And yet...I dunno. I really don't know. This all seems especially relevant in light of current events. Don't you imagine that in Nazi Germany there must've been a fair few people who abhored the regime but, well, were still basically living their lives. For whom, in spite of everything, life still seemed "normal." I mean, what are you personally doing about children being ripped away from their parents and locked in cages? What am I doing? The answers are jack and shit, and supporting a Democratic is NOT adequate. But what are we SUPPOSED to do? Do we have an obligation to break laws? Did they have an obligation THEN? It may be argued that the US in 2020 is not Nazi Germany, and that's obviously true, but not terribly helpful. The whole point of "never again" is to not let a nazi-like regime arise, but if you're not allowed to criticize anyone for moving in that direction until you have full-on death camps, then...well, you actually just meant "again," didn't you? You weren't interested in actually stopping it. Well done. Point being, I don't know how to judge those people. And I don't know how history will judge us, if there ends up being history.
Boy, that got dark and off-topic. Well, here's the final paragraph of that section of the wikipedia entry, which I find kind of moving regardless of the issues surrounding it:
In April 1945, Strauss was apprehended by American soldiers at his Garmisch estate. As he descended the staircase he announced to Lieutenant Milton Weiss of the U.S. Army, "I am Richard Strauss, the composer of Rosenkavalier and Salome." Lt. Weiss, who was also a musician, nodded in recognition. An "Off Limits" sign was subsequently placed on the lawn to protect Strauss. The American oboist John de Lancie, who knew Strauss's orchestral writing for oboe thoroughly, was in the army unit, and asked Strauss to compose an oboe concerto. Initially dismissive of the idea, Strauss completed this late work, his Oboe Concerto, before the end of the year.
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