In his new concluding chapter, Peter Kivy advances his argument on behalf of a distinctive intellectual and musical character of opera before Mozart. He proposes that happy endings were a musical―as opposed to a dramatic―necessity for opera during this period and that Mozart's Idomeneo is properly enjoyed and judged only when listeners are attuned to its seventeenth and eighteenth-century forebears.
I loved this book. It gave me a new perspective of pre-19th century opera that makes sense as a historical and psychological product of the times. I particularly enjoyed how Kivy focused the later parts of the book on juxtaposing the “opera as drama” concept (which I am more biased towards) and his concept of “drama-made-music,” which shows operas as using the drama as a vehicle for a musical form, with characters being nothing more than instruments to be used and rearranged.
TANGENTIAL MINI-ESSAY/RAMBLE BELOW A minor point in the book that had some major pull for me was that of over-analysis by opera critics and audiences. Kivy was adamant that claims like “the music tells us ___” were a load of BS, since what can “music” actually tell us (which makes more sense in the context of his historical arguments)? This led me to think that the qualities of “timeless art” that a lot of the canon operas are said to have today (especially Mozartian operas) are just projections and interpretations by later critics.
If you’re like me, you can remember analyzing poetry in grade school, and constantly thinking “there’s no way the poet really meant that” when the teacher insisted the blue curtains symbolized inner sadness. Sometimes it’s true, in the case of very intentional creators. But I believe that the modern “artist” and “artistic mindset” is a privilege we have now that was not feasible before the 19th century. Especially for musicians. Take Mozart for example: most, if not all, if his operatic projects were commissioned for some aristocrat or monarch. Compositions were commissioned by, and performed for, the wealthy upper-class. This was the way to make a living as a musician at the time, especially as a composer. It was the best economical route to pander to the rich. Mozart found success not because he challenged moral values and ideas in his work (as is almost expected in artists today), but because he conformed to them. Take Cosí, or Don G, or Idomeneo for example: “that’s what they all do” referring to women’s infidelity; making a hero of the most famous womanizer in history; praising and lauding the monarch for his superiority (even though the actual story ends quite differently).
My thesis, that I’ve been dancing around for a while now, is that superior craftsmanship is the (dare I say only?) prerequisite to artistic genius. Mozart succeeded not because he challenged ideals, but because he knew how to write music very well, and did it all within the musical forms and conventions of his time. That’s how he made a living. You can’t expect to be a fantastic and uniquely artistic instrumentalist if you don’t have the most solid understanding of your scales, chords, fingerings, placements, etc. Maybe I’ve been watching too much anime, but you can’t hope to bring something new to the table unless you train your ass off with the basics. Look at any successful musician, or any artist, to verify that. Mozart was no different! The Romanticism of the modern era maybe led us to think differently, but Mozart was a craftsman above all else. The “art” of it really is in the eye of the beholder, where critics and audiences find so many differing interpretations.
It’s in the late 19th/early 20th century where we see the craftsman’s art begin to fade, in favor of (you guessed it) industrialization and efficiency. Here, I can only really talk about singers, since that’s what I know most about, but I’m aware of the general shifts that occurred in the mindset of humanity at that time. In the mid 20th century, we see a “decline in quality” of good singers, which (I believe) can mostly be attributed to the fact that aspiring singers did not spend as much time and energy training their voices as did the singers of days past. It was typical for singers to only sing vocalises for multiple years before singing their first song. That might seem ludicrous today, but I believe that’s where the real craftsmanship mindset and foundation setting happened. The voice is probably the most dynamic, powerful, fragile, and enigmatic instrument there is, so it follows logically that it should probably require the most training to master it. But singers, and people, wanted efficiency, so training was condensed, scientifically redesigned, and relocated to university programs (which, in my mind, was a major blow to the artform).
I’m willing to argue that the efficient route is not always the most effective route, especially when it comes to art. I’ll bet that any serious creator in any art form will agree. The efficiency mindset avoids and abhors failure. But failure might be the most important catalyst for a human being to grow and develop in any and all areas of life. Especially as artists. Genuine craftsmanship does not care about how long something takes. Its only care is completing each step of the process to the best possible ability. The product naturally follows. You see this in Mozart. It’s because of the superior craftsmanship that artistic interpretations and accolades abound. There’s no possible way Mozart could have dreamed up the amount of interpretations of his operas have seen today. That’s the power of a solid, unshakeable foundation.