"The love that dare not sing its name"



I once submitted a question to the Met Opera Quiz - attracted primarily by the thought of free CDs and DVDs but also the minor fame of my name being broadcast internationally I racked my brains to think of something no-one else would had asked. I came up with "Which operas do you think would end more happily if characters found love with someone of the same sex?" expecting gently amusing answers such as Don Jose and Escamillo realising that all they found attractive in Carmen was equally present (and more reliable) in each other, or Cio-cio San experiencing love at first sight with Kate Pinkerton, leaving the love-rat husband weeping in Suzuki's arms.

This made me think more about the number of same-sex relationships that appear in operas - roughly zero, as far as I am aware. It can't be for musical reasons. Composers adore writing duets for all combinations of voice types, whatever the gender mix. Verdi's friendship duets and father/son conflicts are as passionate as any love scenes, the Countess/Susanna duet is practically a love letter to each other, and there is no more clearly expressed mutual adoration than that of the two Pearl Fishers.

Even when the characters are of different genders composers grasp every opportunity to write for closer voices: Zerbinetta/Composer, Bellini's Romeo and Juliet, and that couple in Offenbach's gondola amongst many others. Despite the musical advantages, the dramatic success of trouser roles does depend on a certain amount of disbelief-suspension on the audience's part, particularly in the UK where the traditions of Christmas Panto seem dangerously close. It doesn't always succeed - I've read an internet blog that describes how a trip to see Rosenkavalier left one group thinking it was a story of the complications of 18th century Lesbian life, and their disappointment at being told the truth.

And that's all without even mentioning the countertenors. Suffice it to say that whatever the rest of the show is like, the end of La Coronazione di Poppea is musically much more satisfying and grimly creepy with both voices in the same register.

So if opera composers find same-gender vocal duets just as attractive as the mixed variety, why no genuine love scenes? Especially in operas set in ancient Rome, where the pigeonholing of sexuality was less compartmentalised than nowadays. It comes closest in Strauss's Elektra: her sister Chrysothemis begs her to leave and set up home with her. The imagery is very passionate and physical, far more than sisterly love, and a child is mentioned, so presumably a sperm donor would get involved at some point. Elektra's twisted brain can't recognise the benefits of this arrangement. If only she'd suggested they move to Brighton it might have worked.


In later 20th century opera gay and lesbian characters do appear, but usually got the same bigoted and paranoid treatment that was the hallmark of Hollywood cinema. The most obvious examples are Berg's Lulu and Walton's Troilus and Cressida. Countess Geschwitz (it's even a horrible name, a kind of cross between 'gossip' and 'sweaty') hangs hopelessly around Lulu as a source of irritation to her male rivals, and only gets to express her love after Jack the Ripper's casual afterthought knife is in her stomach. Pandarus in Troilus and Cressida is fussy, weak-willed and effeminate, and if not an actual traitor then certainly incapable of true loyalty. Walton wrote the role for Peter Pears, and thought it amusing to write faux-Brittenish music for him to sing - I wonder if they thought so too?

It's usually assumed Britten's operas are about homosexuality - but I would disagree about that. Sure, they are about troubled social outcasts: at that time such a metaphor was probably enough, and given the UK legal position at the time it's hardly surprising. Though Peter Quint and Miss Jessell may or may not be sexual predators, it's only because their prey are children that they are more sinister than Nick Shadow or Mephistopheles. Peter Grimes is a child-beating coward but no paedophile, and Claggart is just insanely jealous: I don't think anyone's ever suggested Iago's envy of Cassio's good looks was fuelled by lust. Only Aschenbach in Death in Venice could be conceived of as gay (this was after the law had been modernised) yet Oberon also covets youthful male beauty, and is more successful in capturing it. Despite being cast as a countertenor (another old metaphor for being gay) he is still very much Titania's husband.

Tippett bravely introduces a gay couple into The Knot Garden (mixed race too, for added controversy) but it quickly becomes clear they are only there to bicker and break up, splintering into the mix of disturbed singles that populate the rest of the cast. I haven't come across anything similar in more recent opera, let alone a positive depiction with a happy outcome or tragi-heroic demise.

Anyway, my question never made it on air in New York, and not, it would seem, on grounds of poor taste: one recent questioner asked for new synopses of opera on contemporary events and was rewarded with the spectacular idea of Elizabeth, Queen of England (sic) being revealed as Dodi Al Fayed's secret lover who planned Princess Diana's death, unaware he would also be in the car - the climax would be a huge confession aria culminating in self-hurling off the Tower of London into the Thames. The American audience loved it (though the quiz-master did apologise to BBC listeners!) - in contrast to that the thought of Rodolfo and Marcello snuggling up together for any reason beyond shortage of firewood is clearly far too shocking.





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