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Although the Takarazuka Revue is technically a musical company, its founder's ambition was to create a uniquely Japanese form of opera or operetta, merging elements from Western and Japanese forms. Like opera, and unlike musicals in general, trouser roles play a central part in the all-female Takarazuka Revue, and are typically cited as its main appeal. Research from a Japanese-studies perspective tends to discuss the Takarazuka Revue trouser roles, otokoyaku, as a gender-reversal of all-male kabuki, or put them in the context of androgynous or cross-dressing Japanese idols. This article addresses their connection to trouser roles in non-Japanese music theatre, specifically opera. It does so through three lenses: first, the Takarazuka Revue's opera loans and adaptations; second, the shared aesthetic appeal of trouser roles in these two theatre forms; and finally, the singing styles employed in the Takarazuka Revue, including their change over time and relation to classical singing.
Around 1900, Engelbert Humperdinck and Adelheid Wette's Hänsel und Gretel was one of the most widely performed operas in Europe. The critical discourse prompted by its Paris premiere provides an opportunity for exploring the political dynamics of nineteenth-century fairy tales and for elucidating the piece's considerable historical significance. Although Humperdinck's opera was a prime vehicle for perpetuating Franco-German cultural competition, a prominent strand of its Parisian reception emphasised transnational commonalities linking French and German cultural heritage – an emphasis facilitated by the fairy tale's nationalist ideologies. According to some Parisian critics, the opera's wildly successful representation of childhood explained its international success. Certainly, Hänsel und Gretel embodied an influential perception of childhood that also animated late nineteenth-century French literary and political spheres. In so doing, the opera also gave musical and dramatic shape to some highly restrictive aspects of the Romantic image of the divinely protected child.
This article considers the parallel histories of the opera houses in Cairo, Egypt and Cape Town, South Africa. Their respective stories reflect common and divergent experiences of the colonial and postcolonial and the emergent national and nationalist identities at the terminal cities of Africa. Considered separately from the content performed on their stages, the article traces the significance of the buildings as part of their cities. In each city the opera house has been destroyed and rebuilt, under new regimes with new purposes. The discursive value of opera houses is considered more broadly, with evidence presented for the houses as functionaries of the ‘operatic state’ or impresarialist institutions. Who is welcomed in and courted at the opera house is investigated as part of the phenomenon of a nominally public space with conventionalised issues of access.
Contemporary opera exhibits a wide range of motivations for and approaches to making musical allusions to the past, more so than in any other period in the genre's history. I find, contrary to common definitions of musical postmodernism, that allusions are typically meaningful and symbolic in recent postmodern operas. I briefly consider musical collage in operas that represent a proverbial ‘postmodern’ approach to the past, with operas by Cage and Corigliano serving as extreme cases. The core sections of the article are devoted to three of the most prominent contemporary composers whose operas illustrate the range of forms and motives musical allusion has taken over the past few decades: John Adams's Nixon in China (1987), Louis Andriessen's ‘film opera’ La Commedia (2008) and The Exterminating Angel (2016) by Thomas Adès. By detailing musical allusion in these works, I offer evidence in support of a revisionary understanding of these operas and the aesthetic stances of these composers, who each engaged extensively in musical allusion to varying degrees. I conclude with rather unexpected examples of operatic allusion by composers (Glass, Nova, Mazzoli) who typically do not reference the past in their works. For numerous recent composers, opera appears to function as a particularly powerful magnetic attraction to the past, pulling into its orbit the most unlikely figures and warping their proclaimed aesthetic profiles. For opera audiences, allusion is experienced differentially and shapes popular perceptions of the genre as a whole.
Often studied as a transitory step towards the late consolidation of Italian opera in Mexico, the activities of the Spanish tenor and composer Manuel García in Mexico City from 1827 to 1829 call for a more nuanced analysis. The spatial reconceptualisation pursued by transnational and global histories as well as the redefinition of cultural borders triggered by postcolonial studies give us the tools to address García’s Mexican career as a key moment in terms of understanding the effects and issues raised by the spread of Italian opera in Latin America at the beginning of the nineteenth century. The chapter rethinks García's activities in Mexico City as comprising one of the first (while at the same time highly problematic) cultural encounters between Europe and the young Latin American nation after its emancipation from Spain (1821). Until then, mutual perceptions between Europe and Mexico were distorted by the intrusive cultural politics of imperial Spain. After independence, such misperceptions became more marked. Perceived as a familiar expressions of Europeanness, Italian opera became the arena where issues of identity and otherness were discussed. A close reading of the operas García composed for Mexican audiences will reveal how Italian opera changed by absorbing and reflecting the multiple postcolonial tensions of Mexico City.
The decades between unification and World War I saw opera in Italy absorb multiple literary and musical influences from beyond the Alps, including exoticism and naturalism and, successively, the operas of Meyerbeer and Wagner. For the generation of the giovane scuola this was often characterised as a crisis of national musical style and identity, strongly linked to the post-Risorgimento imperative to create a compelling civic and political culture for the new nation. The religious question, and the battle between the Church and state, posed a further set of questions in developing this national identity, which can be traced through opera's engagement with foreign influences. Examining new Italian operas ranging from Franchetti's Asrael to Puccini's Tosca, this chapter will suggest that librettists and composers approaching religious themes were keenly aware of the need to create a vocabulary of religious images and sounds which the predominantly Catholic audiences across Italy could recognise, even when adopting ideas from French or German literary and musical models. Ultimately, this period was crowned with the arrival of Parsifal on Italian stages, when Catholic readings of Wagner's symbology and echoes of Palestrina promoted a particularly Italian interpretation of the opera’s meaning and musical language.
In the 1820s, a stable company of Italian singers was in charge of the operatic performances staged at the Imperial Theatre in Rio de Janeiro. Working together with a French ballet troupe, those soloists joined forces to present their repertoire before a heterogeneous audience. Works by Rossini and his contemporaries were sung in the original language, subscriptions were sold for annual seasons and Italian masterpieces crowned the theatrical festivities offered to the Emperor. The chapter examines this recently independent country’s attraction for foreign singers and looks at how these artists were able to pursue their careers in a totally different milieu to that to which they had been accustomed, living in a city that offered great opportunities, but also considerable challenges to newcomers. A small group of Italian singers were employed by a local impresario, with the aim of making opera a viable cultural activity at an Imperial Court that was proud of its connections with Europe, yet they also struggled with economic difficulties and the country’s political instability. The press assumed a central role in negotiating the relationship between artists and their audiences, revealing a growing public interest in opera, its backstage and the lives of its protagonists.
The chapter examines Alberto Franchetti’s Germania, written primarily for the Italian opera market and premiered at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan (1902); and Ruggero Leoncavallo’s Der Roland von Berlin, commissioned by the German Emperor Wilhelm II to celebrate the Hohenzollern dynasty, and premiered at the Berlin court opera in 1904. Starting with a brief summary of the two operas’ origins and plots, the chapter illustrates how in both cases operatic italianità was used to represent German national myths. Conventional concepts of operatic italianità were challenged through musical references to German folk songs. German critics employed generic meanings of italianità to articulate their disdain at these 'foreign' depictions of national identity, claiming an exclusive right for German composers to write on patriotic topics. As a consequence, productions of Franchetti’s and Leoncavallo’s works in Imperial Germany provoked some of the most hostile reactions ever articulated against Italian composers during the years before World War I. Furthermore, the defamation of Leoncavallo included a barely concealed criticism of the emperor himself.
In the two decades between the first staging of Gluck’s Orfeo in 1903 and the end of Asakusa Opera in the great fire of 1923, musical theatre in Japan saw a rapid process of adoption and transformation. But despite the well-known role of Italian choreographer Giovanni Vittorio Rosi in the training and performance of Western opera at the Imperial Theatre in Tokyo, the association between opera and Italy that was so prominent in other parts of the world never quite took hold. The chapter interrogates the limits of the appeal of italianitá in the history of transnational operatic encounters. These limits are in part rooted in the general difficulties of transplanting a composite cultural form to a foreign setting and its hybridisation with local cultural practices. The chapter discusses the nation-building goals of the Meiji government and the translation of librettos, the Wagnerian moment among Japanese artists and intellectuals and the general conditions of cultural exchange in Meiji Japan and their effects on perceptions of Italianness.
The importance of opera and operatic practices to nineteenth-century Latin American culture has been widely acknowledged; opera was central to the construction of ideas about liberalism, Europeanism, cosmopolitanism and the all-encompassing notion of 'civilisation'. The centrality of opera and of opera houses in the region, however, often obscures the ways in which opera, and Italian opera in particular, were being read. Taking account of the multiplicity and heterogeneity of operatic experiences in the region, the chapter examines the experience of Italian opera singers in the southern Andes (Chile, Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador) during the 1840s, a period of major expansion of opera throughout Latin America. Often these singers were the first to perform opera in the region. How did they live the experience of being Italian and singing Italian opera in South America? Based on newspapers, archival documents and private letters, the chapter demonstrates how, for many of these singers, producing opera in Latin America was neither marked by a direct projection of their previous Italian experiences, nor was it seen as an exotic transatlantic adventure. Instead, it was something in between: a constant process of negotiation between their private and public identities.
As the first textual document to be produced following an individual’s death, the obituary is often the starting point of any biography, a work which by nature requires a retrospective assessment of the experiences of a concluded life. Yet despite the value and relevance of biographical literature to the field of musicology, the obituaries of composers are rarely employed as source material by historians of music. The death of Gioachino Rossini, one of the first true global celebrities in the history of music, provoked a tremendous international media response whose full extent may only be speculated upon. This chapter examines and compares obituaries of the composer from the French, English, German and Austrian press, bringing to light in condensed form the then-predominant narratives of Rossini’s life. The reading of these obituaries reveals a general transnational perspective on Italian opera, typical of the first half of the nineteenth century, as well as the national peculiarities of Rossini’s reception.
The chapter explores the role of Italian opera in the Brazilian Amazon during the Belle Époque and its effects on national and transnational identities. It focuses on the region’s most famous opera house – the Teatro Amazonas – and on the successes and misfortunes of the travelling companies that performed there between 1897 and 1907. The chapter probes the extent to which the opera house was considered a means of engaging with a ‘global fantasy of civilisation’, foregrounding the effects that local tropical diseases had on opera production and on global perceptions of the region during a period of keen interest in its commercial exploration. The shift from the Italian to the French repertoire at the start of the twentieth century sheds new light on Amazonian understandings of different notions of italianità, of Europe and of civilisation.
The Epilogue revisits the concepts of italianità and operatic italianità within the changing context of the historiography on Italian opera and opera in Italy. Looking back at the volume as a whole, it compares how its authors frame the multifaceted idea of Italian opera within the increasingly globalised world of the nineteenth century. Viewed through the prism of italianità, Italian opera frequently takes the form of a nostalgic fantasy for something already lost, or something imagined elsewhere. Such an elsewhere might be Italy itself, idealised as pastoral idyll or land of song. Just as often, though, it is conceived more broadly, mediated via local traditions or conditions or via another place, whether Paris, Vienna or Cuba. Alternatively, it can be dispersed more widely still, across the expanding global network of opera houses performing Italian opera at the time: in the words of an Ecuadorian critic quoted in one of the chapters, ‘we can feel, for a night, as if we were in Lima, or Janeiro, or Paris, London, Madrid or Milan’.