Have you been following the story about the horrendous, sexist, tasteless reviews of Tara Erraught’s performance last weekend in Der Rosenkavelier at Glyndebourne? Of course you have, but if not, you can do some quick catching up here
In spite of the fact this story is days old now, practically pre-historic in internet time, I have some more things to say that I can’t fit into 140 characters. Mostly that I’m not entirely okay with the direction some of the (very-well intentioned) discussions of this issue have taken.
Let’s have a look at each of the erroneous arguments that have been swirling around one by one, shall we?
1. “Tara Erraught isn’t even that fat!”
This is most emphatically not the point. Whether a singer is a little bit heavy-set, or morbidly obese shouldn’t matter if her performance is on point. It seems to be widely agreed by Saturday night’s audience, and the cruel critics who railed against Erraught’s appearance, that her performance of the role of Octavian was, vocally and dramatically, excellent. These stick-in-the-mud, middle-aged, white dudes, found it hard to believe that a woman as tall and thin and beautiful as Kate Royal’s Marschallin would fall in love with an Octavian that looked like Erraught. This perpetuates the kind of bullshit thinking that leads to tales of karmic justice like this one and the supremely frustrating phenomenon of men who love big women, feeling ashamed of their preference and trying to deny it or hide it.
In case you didn’t realilze it, here’s the truth: Women can love short and/or fat men. Men can love fat and/or tall women. It happens every day in the real world. It doesn’t happen nearly enough in the movies, or on TV, or even in opera.
2. “Skinny people aren’t as good at singing as fat people!”
Even though I adore Alice Coote, and respect her as one of the most intelligent singing actresses in opera today, this is a fairly problematic argument for several reasons. First, it plays into the super annoying, never-ending discussion about how opera is being “revived” with a generation of young, hot, singers, which I belive to be utter bullshit.
Secondly, I’m not entirely sure I agree. I’ve seen very thin singers put out lush, theater-filling sounds just as often as I’ve seen fat singers with lighter voices.
And what about thin singers whose size has changed? The terrible saga of Deborah Voigt’s weight loss surgery is well documented. And what about Anna Netrebko’s weight fluctuations? Does her move into more dramatic repertoire have to do with her new voluptuous figure, or is it a natural maturing of the voice that comes with age?
I think Jenny Rivera put it best on this week’s Opera Now! podcast when she said that a singer is at his or her best when their body is in its natural state. That is, if you are someone who is naturally thin, then being thin probably won’t harm your singing, but if you’re someone who is naturally a little more meaty, then, in my opinion, pushing yourself with intense dieting and exercising to look like a model might have a less than desirable effect on your voice. Basically, opera singers need to be healthy and strong, two words that are not necessarily in my mind synonymous with either fat or thin, in order to be able to perform the vocal athletics that our art form calls for.
3. “The original Octavian was also zaftig. That’s how Strauss/Hoffmansthall would have wanted it!”
What if I said, “Verdi never intended for La Traviata’s doctor to be lurking silent on stage througout the entire opera, calling Violetta’s attention to a giant clock that is ticking down to the end of her life!”? (I know I reference that production constantly, but it is just my favorite, okay?) My point by saying that is this: Richard Jones’ interpretation of Der Rosenkavelier for Glyndebourne was hardly what you’d call “traditional,” so it is fallacious to apply the kind of curmudgeonly anti-regie arguments that get used so often to lament the increasing popularity of so called “eurotrash” opera productions. Opera is a living, breathing, evolving art form, and we should keep experimenting with new takes on our favorite works, whether that means Valkyries on motorcycles, Gilda stuffed in the trunk of a Cadillac, or (gasp!) an Octavian who isn’t tall and thin.
When Tara Erraught went onstage as Octavian last weekend, she didn’t look the way some critics expected an Octavian to look, that is, tall and thin. But why should she? She is not Joyce DiDonato or Susan Graham, she is Tara Erraught bringing her own interpretation to the role as Richard Jones directed it. Do we really want to live in a world where every Octavian (or Marschallin, or Sophie, or, for that matter, Mimi, Aida, Siegfried, or Peter Grimes) looks or even sounds like a cookie-cutter cut out of the one that came before? Art is about exploring possibilities. It’s about imagining a world that could be, or a world that can’t be, or a world that we hope will never be, or even the world exactly as it is. But it certainly isn’t about fitting in to a prescribed notion from some stuck-up opera critic about how it it ought to be.
Finally, to Terra Erraught and the fat and thin and tall and short and dumpy and black and white and latina and asian and gay and straight and trans opera singers of the world, I dedicate this song to you: