This is Tchaikovsky's last opera, and it's the third and final of his operas, along with Eugene Onegin and Queen of Spades, that's regularly performed. So I thought I ought to take a look.
It's a fairy tale piece, about a blind princess who's being kept in a cabin in an isolated forest. Her dad, King René, wants to hide her there so her fiancé from childhood, Duke Robert, won't know about her condition. Also, he's determined that she not know she's blind--that she not be aware of the very concept of seeing. the King comes by with a Muslim doctor (his religion is incidental; I gather the idea was just that these are exotic people who maybe have mystical knowledge), who says that her vision can maybe be restored, but first she has to be appraised of the fact that she's blind and that there's something TO restore. The King is unsure about what to do. A bit later, Duke Robert and his pal Vaudémont, who's another duke or something, stumble onto the scene. Robert doesn't want to marry Iolanta because, well, he's never seen her, and also he already has a sweetheart. But Vaudémont, natch, immediately falls in love, and, realizing that she's blind, reveals the truth. The King is annoyed about this, but hey, now that she knows, maybe her vision can be fixed. Probably not, says the doctor, because she doesn't seem to really want it that badly. So the King incentivizes her by announcing that if she's not healed, Vaudémont will be executed (don't worry; it's just a trick, he wasn't really going to have him killed). Well, anyway, she ends up being able to see. Lord Robert renounces his claim on her so she can be with Vaudémont. Hurrah!
I mean, it's a fairy tale, so it probably doesn't pay to think too hard about the logic here, but it's hard not to have a few questions: if the King thought Robert wouldn't be willing to marry his daughter if he knew about her blindness, why did he think keeping her hidden would help with this? He's gonna have to know eventually! And even if you accede to that somewhat dubious logic, I still REALLY don't see the point of not letting her know about her own condition. What possible purpose does that serve?
Still, never mind. I watched this Met Live in HD production. At one point, host Joyce DiDonato remarks that "this is what opera should be," and on the one hand I don't think that opera "should" be any one thing, and on the other, I had found myself sort of thinking the same before she even said it. Certainly it's the kind of thing that can make you fall in love with the form all over again. Iolanta's and Vaudémont's big love duet, MY GOODNESS, so passionate! Yeah! And you've gotta love Anna Netrebko and Piotr Beczała in the roles (Ilya Bannik is also notably good as King René). The production features the house as a cube in the middle of the stage, rotating as need be, with the forest all around it. Very effective.
There's also, perhaps--not that I'm an expert--what seems to be to be a surprisingly progressive disability rights meta-narrative here: when Vaudémont first realizes that Iolanta can't see, he completely freaks out and pathologizes the hell out of her condition: OH MY GOD YOU CAN'T SEE THAT'S SO AWFUL. But she's like, no, I don't need to see, I can still experience the beauty of the world with my other senses, and he's like, yeah! You're right! It's no big deal!...but still, maybe it would still be nice to be able to see, perhaps? He learns and moderates his stance. So, I mean, I'm sure you can find aspects of it to criticize, but it seems like it could've been a lot worse in that regard?
Well, in any case, this was great and I loved it. I should definitely dig into Tchaikovsky's lesser-known operas to the extent that they're available. I am a fan.
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