OPERA The Italian Opera Company of Chicago

Sex and/or violence have always been at the heart of many, if not most, subjects in all the fine arts. This is certainly the case with opera. One need only browse through one of the countless collections of synopses of the works of the standard repertoire to determine the veracity of this claim. But what makes this relatively tiny group of operas endure, compared to all those that have been forgotten, is the beauty of their music. We, who consider ourselves so sophisticated and worldly compared to our forbears, can only chuckle when we recall how outrageous the subject of Verdi’s La traviata seemed when it was premiered in 1853. At first a colossal flop, the brilliance of its music conquered successive generations decisively so that today it is one of the most popular operas of all. Another opera that was despised by no less a critic than George Bernard Shaw and was described by another as a “shabby little shocker,” was Puccini’s Tosca.

It was not only Shaw that found the sex and violence in Tosca too depraved for public consumption, but many critics, even those who had hailed Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci as fresh and ingenious masterpieces, were dismayed that Puccini had sunk so low as to produce such a work. By contemporary standards, of course, the sex and violence that permeates the action of Tosca is quite tame. But even so, Tosca is still properly an opera for “adults only.” On some level, Puccini was probably aware that the dramatic material was ultra violent and sexual, even for him, so he composed a score that was somewhat different than his other masterpieces, La bohème and Madama Butterfly. In Tosca, as in these other works, Puccini’s compositional style is still quite the same. The scores of all three are mosaics of tiny musical themes, some of which are developed into grandiose climaxes at key points in the operas that emotionally and physically shake the listener like the music of no other composer. In La bohème and Madama Butterfly, he prepares his passionate explosions by contrasting them with rather sedate, almost pedestrian musical scoring. One cannot help but sense that if a number of bars in these quieter passages were eliminated, the totality of these works would not be harmed. In Tosca, however, the melodic intensity never flags. Like the operas of Verdi and Mozart, the score is tightly constructed and features one beautiful melody after another from beginning to end, all seamlessly fused with the drama.

Various recorded vocal collections usually feature only three numbers from Tosca - a couple of tenor arias and one soprano aria - but this does not indicate how much great music is in this opera, because most of the memorable music is instrumental, not vocal. Given that Tosca is one of the most popular operas of all, this just goes to show how important the dramatic element of opera came to be with Puccini.

Tosca begins with the satanic-sounding Scarpia theme, which recurs throughout the opera whenever this arch-villain appears or is even mentioned, almost like a Wagner leitmotif. Then comes the chromatically descending, agitated music that introduces Angelotti. As with so many passages in this opera, the music is subliminally ingested, as the viewer is gripped by the situation onstage. When Angelotti is hidden, we hear a passage of complete contrast, the bouncing and melodious grazioso of the Sacristan, which smoothly dissolves into the brief, (again contrasting), monotone religioso Angelus prayer song. A few bars later comes that beautiful 3/4 passage dominated by parallel fifths and fourths that introduces the first of two blockbuster tenor arias, most of which slips into the traditional 6/8 tempo, Cavaradossi’s gorgeous “Recondita armonia.” In all cases, the arias in this opera stop the action for an expression of emotion, as is customary in so many earlier operas. Puccini might have been modern for his time, but he was also unmistakably a faithful exponent of the Italian opera tradition.

When the Sacristan exits the music reverts to the chromatic agitato of Angelotti, whose conversation with Cavaradossi is suddenly interrupted by Tosca. When she and Mario are ostensibly alone, they sing a typically Puccinian love duet. Besides the familiar melodic ebbs and flows, the music here establishes a recurring theme for Tosca and her love for Mario. As the tenor aria in the first act of La bohème sets the table for the rapturous duet, “O soave fanciulla,” the climactic theme of the first-act Tosca duet is a melodic setup for the even more explosive climax of Tosca’s “Vissi d’arte” in the second act. The now familiar Angelotti music encases a third and final parlante passage for escaped prisoner and artist that is highlighted by the ominous Scarpia theme. In the next episode this theme actually introduces the villain in a manner reminiscent of Margaret Hamilton’s first appearance as the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. As he enters with his henchmen, Scarpia’s powerful chords totally disrupt a rollicking passage of childish exuberance as the beleaguered Sacristan tries to whip the young altar boys and choristers into a semblance of order. There is no real aria, but the spectators’ attention is riveted on Scarpia as he conducts some insightful detective work, set to some appropriately sinister music.

Once again, traditional Italian opera comes to the fore with an act-ending pezzo concertante, the music of which features an obbligato solo by Scarpia and mainly revolves around just two chords but is an extremely powerful and effective musical accompaniment to a spectacular church procession. The last notes of the act are the ones that began it - Scarpia’s theme.

The second act of Tosca is a miracle of melodic invention. (This is also the act that contains most of the opera’s objectionable goings-on that offends some of the gentler souls among us.) Puccini has been roundly criticized for not composing better music for Scarpia, but some individuals just cannot grasp that Scarpia is in fact a very powerful musical presence. His music is not scored for song, but in a number of orchestral passages that vividly depict the utter blackness of his soul. When the act begins, a rather placid melody accompanies a relaxed Scarpia, who proceeds with his “Credo” ala Verdi’s Iago (Shakespeare's villain is actually referenced in the text), who is plainly comparable to Scarpia – a villain with absolutely no redeeming virtues. The music here is hardly memorable, but this is exactly what the composer wanted. It is the words here that are important, and Puccini never lets music get in the way of important statements. What we hear is also purposely bland because it does not prepare the audience for what follows, thus making the ensuing music all that more striking.

Scarpia’s questioning of Spoletta is accompanied by a sharp rhythm-dominated figure that perfectly evokes a vision of a desperate search. Shortly before this the sound of an antique gavotte is heard, with Scarpia proclaiming his thoughts in harmony with the offstage music. This device is used again in the following conversation between a momentarily polite Scarpia and Cavaradossi, but this time it is a baroque style chorale, ultimately with a solo by Tosca, that establishes the harmony for the dual recitative. The genteel mood created by the chorale is shattered for good when Scarpia abruptly shuts out the sound of the offstage music by closing the windows. From here on, the music is dark and threatening. When Cavaradossi is led off to be interrogated and tortured, a simple march melodically implies the agony that follows. Throughout the next several passages we have the textbook example of operatic parlando - the characters’ vocal lines are incidental to the “real” music played by the orchestra. The most prominent example of this immediately follows when Scarpia gives the signal to begin the torture (Insistiamo!) And the 6/8 passage that ensues is indeed “insistent.” This is the music of violence, unlike any other. But what could be better for this situation? And on top of that it’s actually a nice tune!

Yet another passage that is considered musically feeble is Cavaradossi’s solo beginning with the brave A# “Vittoria.” But Puccini didn’t want a memorable aria here, just a break in the horror. The real aria is the soprano’s “Vissi d’arte,” that depicts the hopelessness of Tosca’s situation (she must decide whether to give her body to a “monster” in order to save her lover’s life), especially pathetic because she sees herself as undeserving of such a fate. Musically, the melody of this aria takes the theme of the first-act duet to its ultimate extent (“perche, perche Signor”), like the full blossoming of a gorgeous flower. This aria is made even more dramatically effective as it is preceded by a simple and repeated figure on a muffled snare drum that lends a feeling of time running out to the already desperate circumstances.

After Tosca agrees to Scarpia’s filthy bargain (which, of course, he has no intention of keeping), she demands a written assurance of safe-conduct for her and Mario, and Scarpia sits at his desk and begins writing. Like the letter writing scene in La traviata, this lull in the action is accompanied by a truly beautiful melody. At this time, while the melody unreels, Tosca sees the knife on the dinner table and realizes what she must do. This languorous F# minor andante sostenuto played on the G-string of muted violins is one of the great musical moments in the opera and will be thankfully repeated. But this does not happen until the righteous, but brutal stabbing of Scarpia by Tosca, which is preceded by a brief musical figure that suggests a clock ticking towards midnight. After the andante recap, the “ticking” figure returns in the bass instruments and the act ends with a minor chord over an ominous drum roll, reminding us that although Scarpia is dead, he is not yet finished with Cavaradossi.

Act III begins with the horns blaring out a theme that will be optimistically sung in unison by the lovers a bit later. But almost as soon as the brass figure ends we hear a hauntingly beautiful song of a shepherd boy sung in Romano dialect – yet another great musical moment sans the principals. The lyrics of this song, in a whole-tone colored melody, speak of hopeless love, anticipating the events to follow. Also in this prelude to the action at the crack of dawn, recalling the opening of Act III of La bohème, is the pealing of church bells as heard from the top of the forbidding Castel Sant’Angelo. (Puccini actually researched this effect on this very site.) Now the strings render yet another beautiful passage before sounding the theme from the approaching tenor aria. This is followed by the now familiar melody from the Act I love duet, sounded by one of the favorite instrumental ensembles of the great Italian composers – the cello quartet! Then the solo clarinet plays the melody of “E lucevan le stelle” before the tenor begins the great aria with a series of notes of the same pitch (exactly like Rodolfo with the “Che gelida manina”). No one takes issue with Puccini’s melodic genius with this sublime, yet emotionally wrenching aria.

Immediately (after the usual audience ovation) the mood changes abruptly from one of gloom to joy, as a bustling string introduction announces the entrance of Tosca, who comes bearing good news. With numerous quotes from the music of the previous act, the soprano begins another typical multi-movement love duet. Although the piece ends with a sweeping burst of optimism on the theme that began the final act, one of the movements, the andante amoroso, betrays the falseness of the lovers’ hopes. Its harmonies and childlike rhythms are simply not of this world, a fantasy that is perceived as such by the audience, thus deepening the tragedy to come. One more instrumental passage rife with dramatic meaning is now played - the mournful march of the firing squad, sounded before and after Mario is blown away. Finally, there is the controversial instrumental conclusion, to the tune of “E lucevan.” This passage is often singled out to show how shallow was Puccini’s understanding of drama. “Why not Tosca’s, or even better, Scarpia’s theme here?” wonder the critics. They forget the words sung to this melody – “E non ho amato mai tanto la vita, tanto la vita.” Besides the fact that this ending sounds great, what better sentiment could you express to finish off an opera like this?

It is deeply puzzling that so many have found Tosca lacking in musical appeal. Perhaps they are so transfixed by the sex and violence that they can’t take notice of the work’s considerable wealth of melody. Fortunately, the opera goers, who know great music when they hear it, always have the last word.