Echo: Castrato Virtuosity Recaptured
Echo:
Castrato Virtuosity Recaptured
Silviu Purcarete’s 2012 Production of Leonardo Vinci’s Artaserse
Every
opera performance occurs in a unique historical and
cultural context. Despite this, it is possible for a performance to honor the
spirit of the work’s era while effectively imparting that spirit to an audience
of a different time.[1] Leonardo Vinci’s Artaserse, a setting of Pietro Metastasio’s popular libretto,
however, offers particular challenges for modern audiences. A dramma per musica, its musical conventions
and betrayal plot were designed to highlight the effusive virtuosity of the
five castrati (and one tenor),
playing both male and female characters, in the cast of the 1730 premiere.[2] Despite
their high vocal range and emasculate characteristics, castrati were perceived more as otherworldly or inhuman than
effeminate due to their enormous proportions and mastery of singing that went
beyond singers of “normal” fächer.[3]
Without access to castrati, modern reproductions risk losing the
opera’s existential core, the music’s inhuman castrato virtuosity. Silviu Purcarete’s 2012 production at Opéra
National de Lorraine, boasting a cast of five countertenors and one tenor,
parries this hazard. Clever casting ties characterization to vocal timbre
rather than vocal range, presenting gender trait stereotypes in both male and
female characters to create the perception of a genderless, virtuosic voice
capable of almost inhuman versatility. Supporting this, exaggerated costuming technically
assigns character gender, nevertheless accentuates blurred gender
characterization, and is itself virtuosic. Finally, Verfremdungseffekt forces these countertenors-as-castrati into the showcase of the theatre
through revealed performativity.[4] The
Purcarete production captures the soul of Vinci’s Artaserse, offering audiences an echo of the otherworldly castrati virtuosity that in 1730 evoked
such awe, while questioning the hunger, then and now, for that virtuosity.
While in
mounting Artaserse several accepted
methods of handling castrati roles are available, the selection not only of countertenors but of the particular
countertenors in the Purcarete production undermines reactive gender biases,
emphasizing the virtuosic experience of the castrato
performance. Standard practices reviving castrati
roles utilize either women, tenors, or countertenors.[5]
Purcarete’s decision to use countertenors automatically reflects the castrato experience of the premiere, with
five men singing in female range regardless of their character gender. To
obviate modern perceptions of countertenor effeminacy due to range or timbre, casting emphasizes the dichotomy of a robust, ringing voice and a sweeter,
softer voice. This spreads stereotypical gender traits of aggressive
masculinity or weak femininity across both male and female characters, leaving
costuming to definitively determine their character gender and emphasizing
instead countertenors performing virtuosically across a huge dramatic palette,
just as the castrati did.
Both the
eponymous Artaserse and his best friend Arbace are male characters, played by
men, with vocal lines in the typically female range. Comparing just their first
arias, however, reveals starkly different countertenor voices that augment dramatic
context, tempo, and aria flavor to support characterization. Franco Fagioli’s
rich, woody voice is immediately thrown into rapid-fire coloratura in the renowned bravura aria “Fra cento affani,” staged
with him holding a sword (13:40-17:12).[6] Fagioli
even dips into the chest-voice portion of his range in order to demonstrate
Arbace’s exasperated conviction against his father’s cruel act of murder. The
slower B section of the aria emphasizes this throatiness further, allowing the
tone to expand before throwing Fagioli back to the presto da capo. Fagioli’s
dark timbre thus amplifies the aria’s heroic, stereotypically masculine tone, honorably
raging through highly ornamented coloratura
against a family member. Artaserse’s first aria, by contrast, is a stereotypically
feminine declaration of love for Semira. Philippe Jaroussky’s silvery voice
lacks the thrust and apparent size of Fagioli’s but virtually floats through
the andante “Per pietà, bell'idol
mio,” ornamented by sweet trills and pianissimi
instead of rending sixteenth note runs (25:42-30:57). Jaroussky’s voice, light
and angelic, characterizes Artaserse as a naïve new king who would prefer to
pursue his love of Semira but must (at first incompetently, resulting in the
death of an innocent) cope with the burden of a kingship surrounded by disloyal
enemies.
A survey of the leads’ remaining arias reveals
the development of this vocal characterization throughout the opera. Arbace’s
“Vo solcando un mar crudele” (1:09:20-1:16:32), also presto and invested by Fagioli with the greatest coloratura virtuosity in the opera, represents
a peak of his heroic strength. His later arias, “Mi scacci sdegnato!”
(1:23:30-1:30:30), “Per quel paterno amplesso” (2:04:29-2:10:28), and “Perché
tarda è mai la morte” (2:29:35-2:32:36) slow from andante to tempo giusto
to grave e staccato as he clings to
his honor but becomes increasingly helpless. Conversely, Artaserse’s “Deh
respirar lasciatemi" (49:00-53:25), “Rendimi il caro amico”
(1:17:43-1:21:33), and “Non conosco in tal momento” (2:20:53-2:24:54) increase
in speed from moderato to allegro to an allegro with more coloratura
as he affirms his faith in Arbace, gaining kingly decisiveness by freeing his
friend. When they are reunited with back-to-back arias, Arbace’s andante “L’onda dal mar divisa”
(2:34:30-2:40:25) is slower than Artaserse’s allegro "Nuvoletta opposta al sole” (2:41:11-2:43:55) but both
arias are immensely virtuosic, employing lengthy melismatic passages. Arbace
has not declined; rather, he has endured captivity and condemnation without
abdicating morality. Meanwhile, Artaserse has risen to become a capable king of
both morals and strength. As these developments occur, a softer, sweeter, more
stereotypically effeminate voice demonstrates both naïveté and strength and a
stronger, darker, more stereotypically masculine voice demonstrates both
heroism and helplessness. Both voices relate more distinctly to character
development than to gender by executing virtuosity in both controlled, sweet
arias and raging torrents of song.
The rest of
the countertenor cast also supports this strategy of tying voices to characterization
rather than gender, in this case across a range of different static rather than
similar dynamic characters. Both women’s first arias mourn parting with their
lovers. Max Emanuel Cencic’s balanced, brightly virile voice fits Mandane’s
first allegro aria “Conservati
fedele,” (10:32-12:38), a secure, almost masculine affirmation of love for
Arbace. Valer Barna-Sabadus’ lighter voice, ranging from slightly smokier than
Jaroussky in the low range to pristinely flute-like in higher registers, fits Semira,
a character frequently put in a weak, stereotypically feminine position. Her
first aria "Bramar di perdere troppo affetto" (37:09-41:42) is essentially
a controlled, andante lament of
Artaserse’s absence. When Semira learns of Arbace’s perceived betrayal, she
responds meekly, asking for proof of innocence in the allegro “Torna innocente e poi,” (58:17-1:03:17). In contrast,
Mandane explodes in the presto torrent,
“Dimmi che un empio sei,” (1:04:49-1:07:21) going to the extreme of declaring
her former lover an enemy. Only Semira’s presto
coloratura aria “Se del fiume altera l'onda” (1:53:20-1:57:26) appears to
possess more verve in one dramatic moment than Mandane’s preceding aria, in tempo giusto, “Se d’un amor tiranno” (1:45:20-1:52:24).
Barna-Sabadus’ softer voice, however, belies Semira’s sense of confusion, while
Cencic’s more robust tone supports Mandane’s driven sadness at her lover’s
perceived betrayal. In their final back to back appearances, Cencic’s voice
possesses a piercing, crystalline quality that heightens the sharp floridity of
Mandane’s second passionate, presto
outburst, “Va’ tra le selve ircane,” (2:11:35-2:14:01), which contrasts with
Semira’s allegretto “Per
quell'affetto” (2:14:36-2:19:55), which is also accusatory, but lacks the same
causticness, a difference emphasized by the difference in timbre. Megabise’s
two declarations of lust for Semira, the allegro
tour de force “Sogna il guerriere le
schiere” (33:36-36:17), marked by martial rhythms and predatory imagery, and
the allegro, “Non temer ch’io mai ti
dica” (1:38:53-1:43:15), as well as his violent support in the presto “Ardito ti renda”
(2:45:30-2:48:40) of Artabano’s plan to poison, Artaserse are augmented by
Yuriy Mynenko’s slavically dark voice, the most bitingly steely of the cast. Thus,
of these three countertenor roles, the parallel characters Mandane and Semira are
both women played by men but demonstrate masculine and feminine traits based on
vocal timbre. Meanwhile, Megabise is played by the steeliest, darkest
countertenor voice, highlighting violent masculinity despite high range.
The casting decisions do not attempt to
subvert stereotypes of gendered characteristics. Rather, they manipulate those
stereotypes to subvert the inherent gendering of the countertenor voice,
instead showing that voice as capable of portraying both male and female
characters embodying a wide range of gender traits that both conform to and
flout character gender. Hence, like castrati,
countertenor becomes a voice type disassociated from a particular gender and
defined by its capability for the virtuosity Vinci’s Artaserse demands.
The
costuming of the Purcarete production visually aids the primacy of versatile,
gender-neutral virtuosity, defining character gender but supporting
cross-gender characterization. It channels period dress but makes that dress itself
virtuosic. Throughout the opera the ensemble of hoopskirts and rigid bodices worn
by both Mandane and Semira define them as women, relying, like the castrati, on external costuming to define
character gender rather than gendered characteristics inherent to the voice or
body. Additionally, the similarity of the costumes illustrates that, dramaturgically,
the two mirror each other, static, if very different, characters in love with
men of power. In Acts I and III the nuanced difference in feather headdresses, Mandane
with two “wings” and Semira with a single “mohawk,” helps further align the
characters while subtly differentiating them. Costume color builds on these
differences. Semira’s Act I outfit is pure white, representing her
stereotypically feminine position as a helpless, indecisive reactionary to the
actions of Artaserse and Arbace and her sexual objectification by Artabano and
Megabise. In contrast, Mandane’s outfit is a greyish-black, representative of
Mandane’s more stereotypically masculine declaration of love for Arbace and
bellicose reaction to his perceived betrayal. In Act II the two women’s
columnar hairdos mirror even more completely, highlighting Semira’s seaweed
colored dress against Mandane’s fiery red, reflecting Semira’s confused
reaction to events compared to Mandane’s resolute conviction. Finally, in Act
III, with the return of the headdresses and feathery skirts, Semira returns to
her white dress, anointed with gold. Meanwhile, Mandane’s costume is white and
blood red. Semira’s garb befits the anointed wife of a king while Mandane’s befits
the fierce lover of a warrior who saves the life of his best friend and ruler. Hence,
though costuming confirms both characters’ womanhood, it tracks with the
casting in highlighting both masculine and feminine characteristics. Additionally,
the costuming of the female characters in the Purcarete Artaserse, full of enormous outfits in bright colors with huge
hairdos and feathered headdresses, is itself virtuosically over the top, heightening
the perception of the countertenor voice’s function, like that of the castrato voice, as an inhumanly virtuosic
entity supported by the drama.
Costuming for the opera’s male characters
similarly defines their gender, represents their dramatic function, and is intrinsically
virtuosic. For the men, Act II serves as the keystone in a sartorial palindrome
in which the male characters’ appearances move from divergence to convergence
and back again, separating the dynamic heroes from the static villains.[7] Arbace
begins the opera in Act I wearing ashen floor-length robes that seem fitting
for a courtier, sartorially masculine and richly clothed but not overly
appointed. At the opera’s close, Arbace once again dons the same outfit, but in
gold. He has progressed sartorially, as he has vocally, from a man tied to a
murder at the beginning to a true, honorable friend who endured captivity and
saved the king. Nevertheless, the bulbous shoulders, slimming robes, and
outrageously tall hat reflect the over-the-top nature of the costume scheme,
emphasizing otherworldly virtuosity. Artaserse’s Act I costumes, a white shift
reminiscent of women’s Victorian undergarments and a goth outfit with a blade-like
black mohawk and spiked pauldrons, represent his indecisive, stereotypically
effeminate naïveté and the unjustly cruel violence it inflicts upon Dario. When
he returns in Act III he is clothed ostentatiously in a white-feathered shawl
that incorporates the mink so iconic of royalty and the largest headdress
(among many large headdresses) in the opera, sporting gold crown and enormous
black feathers. This costuming captures Artaserse growth into a capable,
autonomous king, which reflects the interaction between Jaroussky’s voice and
the role while itself reaching the pinnacle of visual virtuosity. By contrast,
in Acts I and III the two villains wear only their dark or metallic colored,
viciously predatory outfits. Artabano’s horned helment channels a bull or
minotaur and Megabise’s feathered pauldrons a bird of prey. Only as Artabano
must confess his guilt and Megabise returns from the dead in the victorious
final chorus, “Giusto re, la Persia adora” do their costumes change, with
Artabano’s pauldrons turned from black to white and Megabise in a golden
breastplate. Hence, their costuming, like their timbres, represents their
static villainy until the heroes force their repentance. Their costumes remain
in scheme, however, virtuosically representing villainy through clothing that
goes far beyond staid period accuracy.
The Act II costume of white coat, stockings,
shoes, and wig worn by all four male characters represents a turning point as
Arbace and Artaserse develop and Artabano and Megabise do not. Arbace is the
first to don the outfit in Act I, scene xiv, losing the wig and neckpiece
almost immediately as he despairs his disgrace. Meanwhile, because Artaserse
remains in full regalia, his power over Arbace is clear. Once he also loses the
wig at the end of Act II as he reels from the pain of condemning his best
friend, the two have been reunited in sympathetic friendship. Indeed, at the
opening of Act III during the rescue we see them clothed the same, as equals,
before Artaserse offers Arbace his golden robes, restoring him with an upgrade
that matches Artaserse’s own glorious clothing in the finale. By comparison,
the villains spend all of Act II in the full regalia, with Megabise changing
only for his resurrection in the finale and Artabano changing only halfway
through Act III. These static villains are stuck in the rubric of the Act II
outfits, continuing in them long after the heroes have begun to shed the
scheme. This juxtaposition emphasizes in one act the development, or lack
thereof, of four characters representing a huge range of masculine and feminine
traits while clothing them in masculine attire matching their character gender.
Meanwhile, the pompous ostentation of the outfits, which channel Le Grand Siècle and Louis XIV, go even
further, giving “cat ears” to the wigs and representing the virtuosic opulence
of that period.[8]
Whether for
male or female characters, the effect of the exaggerated costuming in the
Purcarete production of Artaserse mirrors
the effect of the casting, showing an enormous palette of characterization
that, by blending stereotypical gender traits across character genders in
keeping with castrati capabilities,
emphasizes the virtuosity of the performers.
Lastly, the Purcarete Artaserse employs Verfremdungseffekt,
putting these cleverly cast and clothed countertenors on display. This
showcases their virtuosity so we may gaze upon it like voyeuristic observers
watching an exotic animal in a cage.[9] The
abstract set, with black turntable, Vitruvian
Man-inspired backdrop, and sliding panels pointedly eschews period style,
other than the clever pun. Instead, it is a space dominated by gaudy makeup
tables downstage and clearly visible lights and other “theatre parts”
backstage. Inhabiting the space are the “stagehands,” wearing backstage
“blacks” and headsets but with faces painted white, matching the performers.
This clear peeling back of the theatrical guise supports the Verfremdungseffekt principle of forcing
audiences to be aware that they are witnessing theatre-making and not suspend
disbelief by buying into the world of the drama. When the performers enter this
world for the first time during the sinfonia,
they are visible to the audience as costuming is donned, makeup is touched up,
and collegial words are exchanged. This Verfremdungseffekt
tactic supports gender-versatile virtuosity established by casting and
costuming by displaying it, but simultaneously reveals the dark truth that in
the ogled display-case of the theatre, the castrati
were forced into the limelight precisely because of their fascinating
inhumanness.
The Act I, scene xiv aria “Vo solcando un mar
crudele,” sung by the primo uomo
Arbace, is probably the opera’s showpiece and is the peak of the Verfremdungseffekt technique. A
virtuosic “storm-at-sea simile aria” supported by raging strings that paint the
stormy text and undergird the coloratura vocal
line, it goes beyond Arbace’s diegetically patient disconsolation and hope to
escape from condemnation, representing the virtuoso’s patient performing of his
gift and hope he can escape from scrutiny.[10] Before
the first A section of the ABCAB aria, Fagioli throws off his black cloak with
vitality, accepting the attendants’ proffered wig and makeup assistance. After
singing the entire text of the A section of the AB poem, even supporting it by
fluttering his hands to represent waves and incorporating pseudo-Baroque acting
gestures, he haughtily flips his jacket, thinking his job is done and heading
upstage. The attendants bar his attempted escape, with one returning him
downstage. When he sings the aria’s B section, a more virtuosic setting of the
A text, his gestures also increase. He once again attempts to escape upstage,
hoping he has fulfilled his duty but more attendants stop him, two returning
him downstage where he sinks to his knees and sings the C section of the aria,
which corresponds to the poem’s B section text, the most dejected. He ornaments
the final cadence of this B section, creating a cadenza of enormous range
worthy of an aria’s final cadence. Hoping this is sufficient but not trusting
the attendants, he attempts to slyly escape stage right and is captured once
more. Before beginning the A section of the da
capo, he gestures to the attendants with both hands up, as though saying,
“alright, once more.” This time, his ornamentation is exceptionally florid
while his gestures become increasingly erratic, if still Baroque-like. In his
final escape attempt, he throws off the wig, a clear gesture of finality.
Still, the attendants capture him as he almost collapses, a virtuoso nearly
spent. For the final B section, the most highly ornamented of the performance,
they offer their arms to support him as he sings, helping him contain his even
more erratic gestures and supporting him when he again almost collapses
backwards. He even gestures to one attendant to return her arm to him, knowing
he relies on them at this point. For the final cadenza, he tears off his
neckpiece before soaring to a show-stopping C#5 in an ultimate show of
finality. The audience roars and, their appetites satiated too, the attendants
allow him to collapse back into their arms as they shower him with gold.
There is fame and adoration with acclaimed
virtuosity. Like Fagioli at the beginning of the aria, many of the castrati appreciated this as much or
more than modern performers.[11] The
performance expectations virtuosity creates can also be an immense, exhausting weight,
however, requiring consistent and even increasing feats to gratify listeners.
Purcarete’s use of Vermfremdungseffekt throughout
Artaserse puts virtuosity on display,
highlighting it like the casting and costuming but also raising the question of
its price. Indeed, no greater price
can be levied than genital mutilation in pursuit of virtuosity.[12]
In 1730 Italy when Vinci’s Artaserse premiered, the castrato
voice was admired for its sweet control, lightning coloratura, and unusual timbre, which in combination constituted
inhuman, otherworldly virtuosity. Capturing the essence of Artaserse outside of the 18th century castrato-influenced context produces
challenges. Silviu Purcarete’s 2012 production of Artaserse attempts to honor the centrality of castrato capabilities. Careful casting of five very specific
countertenor voices with distinct timbres reflects the versatile, gender
unspecific virtuosity of the castrati.
Costuming, meanwhile, helps technically define character gender while visually
reinforcing the versatility shown by the casting. Combined, these tactics
create the perception that the countertenor voice, like the castrato voice, is less a feminine voice
from a male body and more an otherworldly voice capable of singing across a
huge range of both male and female characters. Taking these countertenor voices
and putting them flagrantly on display through Verfremdungseffekt, the sense that the very purpose of these
performances is virtuosity itself becomes even clearer. Simultaneously,
however, the price of this exacting voyeurism that demands so much from these
virtuosos is also revealed. Purcarete’s Artaserse
pursues an echo of the 1730 experience of castrato virtuosity, but also warns of the dark cost of that
seductive echo.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bergeron, Katherine.
“The Castrato as History.” Cambridge
Opera Journal 8 (Summer 1996): 167-184.
Carlin, Francis.
“Artaserse, Opéra national de Lorraine, Nancy.” Financial Times, November 6, 2012,
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/3995611c-2807-11e2-afd2-00144feabdc0.html#axzz2uPeNNilD.
Dame, Joke. “Unveiled
Voices: Sexual Difference and the Castrato.” In Queering the Pitch: The New Gay and Lesbian Musicology, edited by
Philip Brett, Elizabeth Wood, and Gary C. Thomas, 139-153. New York: Routledge,
1994.
Feldman, Martha. Opera and Sovereignty: Transforming Myths in
Eighteenth-Century Italy. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2007.
Markstrom, Kurt Sven. The Operas of Leonardo Vinci, Napoletano.
OPERA Series 2. Hillsdale: Pendragon Press, 2005.
Schafer, Elizabeth. “The
male gaze in Woyzeck: re-presenting Marie and madness.” In Madness in Drama, edited by James Redmond, 55-63. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1993.
Taruskin, Richard. “The
Limits of Authenticity: A Contribution.” In Text
and Act, edited by Richard Taruskin, 67-82. New York: Oxford University
Press, 1995.
Troy, Timothy X.
“Brecht: The Life of Galileo.” Freshman Studies Lecture, Freshman Studies Lecture Series from Lawrence University, Appleton, 18 September 2013.
All score references and
markings taken from IMSLP.org at the links listed below:
http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/8/89/IMSLP87149-PMLP62065-Vinci_Artaserse_Act1.pdf
http://javanese.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/1/13/IMSLP87150-PMLP62065-Vinci_Artaserse_Act2.pdf
http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/c/c2/IMSLP87151-PMLP62065-Vinci_Artaserse_Act3.pdf
All timings taken from
now deprecated YouTube videos. At time of submission “Vo solcando un mar
crudele” is available at this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXmF6h3Yd_A
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