Wiener Staatsoper
10 September 2023
Manassah! Issachar! Ozias!
A panicked Herod darted throughout the terrace of his palace, ordering his minions to extinguish the torches. To hide the moon and stars. To keep hidden from the eyes of God a horrible spectacle: His stepdaughter kissing the severed head of the prophet.
Salome lay on the ground, languidly caressing the hair of her trophy. Woodwinds trilled, strings and horns groaned, and the unearthly rumble of an offstage organ accompanied Salome as she dissolutely sang of her deed.
Ah! Ich habe deinen Muuuund gekuesst...
Violins pierced the air, emitting a haunting moan in G-sharp and A, resolving again on G-sharp. It repeated again as Salome addressed the head
Jo-haaaaaaaa-na hannnnnn…
Ah. Ich habe ihn gekuesst…
The brief moaning motif appeared
…deinen mund…
She tasted something bitter on his lips. Blood?
Es war einbitterer Gescmack…
Or perhaps it was the taste of love.
A briefly brilliant theme blossomed in the violins, illuminating at least aurally the dim scene. Molto espresso!
Dissolution returned for a few moments, before Salome began hurtling towards her apotheosis.
Al-lein was tuts?
She echoed the first four notes from the brilliant theme a few moments before, which returned to echo both her and itself. The timpani did the same…
What matters it? she asked again.
Timpani rolled in a thunderous crescendo, weightless violins echoed Salome's metaphysical inquiry, and brass thrusted into The Infinite.
The entire orchestra came together for an earth-shattering climax, which almost blasted the roof right off the performance hall, opening up the entire universe.
Nichts in der Welt…!
Salome screamed…
Ich habe deinen Mund…
Brass throbbed plaintively, flutes fluttered, violins lept the scale in unfettered ecstasy, and the glockenspiel tingled. A lone trumpet blasted five notes that ascended the scale in rapid succession, followed by a sixth note that brought the wayward instrument back in line with the rest of the orchestra.
… gekusst, Jochanaan!
Salome repeated her proclamation of her deed a final time, the entire orchestra reached towards its final paroxism.
In a departure from traditional stagings, Jochanaan reappeared on the stage, bathed in blue light. Although initially startled, Salome walked slowly towards him, taking his outstretched arm. All the lights dimmed when her hand touched his, and as the orchestra's portrayal of her reverie came to an end.
To bring the opera to its abrupt conclusion, Herod shouted Man tote dieses Weib!
His execution order mocked the final notes sung by Salome. All the lights shined on the palace soldiers rushing to kill Salome. Instead, they were startled to find that she had already vanished with Jochanaan.
After Strauss' orchestral "signature" concluded the opera, the entire audience rose to its feet, shouting and clapping. A few obligatory, yet sincere, bravos emerged from the audience.
Over the din of the crowd, a blond woman in her early twenties turned to the young auburn-haired man standing next to her. "I told you this would be good, Willi."
"What?" he shouted, barely hearing her.
"I said you would like it. Sex. Violence. Religion. Everything you Americans like."
Shaking his head, the man shouted back, "I think it's hard wired in all of us, Hildegard. Regardless of tribe."
The performers started returning to the stage.
When he applied to study for a semester abroad in Vienna, William Van De Kamp never thought he would get accepted into the program. He also never imagined himself going to the Wiener Staatsoper itself, attending a performance of an opera he ended up enjoying (even though it took some friendly cajoling by Hildegard, whom he met upon arriving in Vienna the previous month), and being present for an historic event; the first performance with a woman holding the baton.
An American woman at that.
Emerging from stage left, conductor Isobella Rosenthal walked to the center of the stage, joining the cast to bask in the audience's adulation. Growing even louder, the crowd found renewed strength to participate in the celebration of Rosenthal's triumph. After bowing a few times, she indicated the other performers with a sweep of her arms.
Looking out into the audience again, Rosenthal felt her attention drawn to the inexpensive seats. To some college kid who seemed familiar, even though she had never met him in her life. She looked intensely in his direction for a few seconds, the sounds from the audience inexplicably dampened by vague memories of the two FBI agents who almost snuffed out her existence nearly 30 years earlier.
Bringing herself back to the present, she pushed from her mind that memory.
From the time she called herself Aimee Archer.
Fin