This is only my second Lehár, but I probably should rewatch Die lustige Witwe--I remember not liking it much, but it might've just been the production--also, towards the end, after the titular widow is going to get married, her love interest remarks (paraphrasing) "we'll be very rich--but we'll be happy," which enraged my inner Marxist (who's kind of the same as my outer Marxist, come to think of it), and I snarled "fuck you" at the screen--not a useful or productive reaction, I will readily grant, but there you are.
Anyway! This one is very different from that. The first act is set in Vienna, where there's a Chinese delegation. Count Gustave wants to marry Lisa, but she's not into it. She and the Chinese prince, Sou-Chong, fall in love instead and determine to go back to China together, which moving is fast-tracked when he receives news that he's been appointed President of China (?!?). They go back, but the Chinese ways are very different from the European, and Lisa isn't feeling it. Gustave comes in pursuit, and himself falls in love with Sou-Chong's sister, Mi. But ultimately, it is determined that the cultural differences are insurmountable, and Gustave and Lisa leave sou-Chong and Mi heartbroken--though he reminds her that their tradition is to always smile ("Lächeln"="smile"), though your heart is breaking.
An interesting thing, this: obviously any piece of this vintage centering on China is going to be rife with Orientalism, to one degree of cringiness or other. And yeah, there's some of that here. Sou-Chong and Mi are treated as sympathetically as the European characters, but there's the very clear implication that China, overall, is kinda barbaric compared to the Occident, and BOY are there a lot of references to the alleged teachings of Confucius (it's been a long time since I've read The Analects, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember if he'd said anything about interracial marriage). The librettists clearly knew very little about the culture in question. Still, given the time and place, I don't really hold that against them. The question is...are we supposed to see the two couples breaking up as the operetta itself believing that these things just can't work out, or is it rather an indictment of cultural closed-mindedness? It might be some combination. I don't know. One data point that may or may not be helpful is that in Jaromír Weinberger's operetta Frühlingsstürme, there are (as usual) also two romances, one between a Japanese man and a European woman, and one between two Europeans, and guess which of these ultimately fails? Two examples certainly doesn't establish a pattern--for all I know, there could be counterexamples that I haven't encountered--but it makes you wonder.
Regardless, though, for all that some of this may run counter to our contemporary sensibilities, it's easy to see why it's so popular: Lehár's music is fantastic, occasional inevitable "Oriental" flourishes and all, and I ultimately found the story emotionally effective. Whatever it has to say about intercultural communication, it's still a human story. As usual from Seefestspiel Mörbisch, an effective production; very colorful. And hey, they even got actual Asians to play most of the Chinese characters (although they're all Japanese except for one Korean--should I be offended by that?), and a real Chinese dance troupe to bring some color and kinetic energy to the proceedings.
Very good stuff. I'll definitely pursue Lehár futher.
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