COSI FAN TUTTE OR LIFE AS A SERIOUS FARCE


Recently, my wife and I invited a few friends of ours to attend a student performance of Mozart's great, although problematic, opera, Cosi Fan Tutte. The performers were young and inexperienced and the conducting was brisk and not very nuanced, but, for me at least, Mozart's gloriously profound music came across.
After the performance, I asked my friends, who are intelligent but not very musical, what they thought of the opera. One said that the opera was second-rate. The other one, a woman, was almost irate. What fluff, she said. And sexist fluff at that! "It's just a confection, and can be enjoyed as such " she said. "If it pretended to be more than that, I would be very angry at its obvious sexism." Well it i s more than that, much much much more than that.
Just as Measure for Measure is considered to be a problem play, Cosi might be considered to be a problem opera. But Measure and Cosi are nevertheless undeniable masterworks. Critics have not always viewed Mozart's final opera to a Da Ponte libretto as first-rate. Beethoven found the inconstancy of Dorabella and Fiordiligi repugnant; his ideal was the unwavering, noble, serious woman which he immortalized in the character of Fidelio. Other critics found that the plot and language of the libretto were too absurd and exaggerated to result in a masterpiece, even if the music is by Mozart at the height of maturity. That view, although not entirely gone, is fading. As Daniel Barenboim stated, no critic worth his salt can dare dismiss this wonderful opera. A few years ago I read an article by a respected critic who considered Cosi to be the most profound and greatest of Mozart's operas. While this is a minority view, I find it very respectable. Relatively neglected for more than a century, his opera has now become a staple of the repertoire, but I still think it's very much underappreciated. I am writing this article in its defense; I advise all those who still think it's merely a farce to listen more seriously. Let's examine why this is such good advice.

A PROBLEM LIBRETTO?

There are certainly difficulties with the libretto, but it has many good points, too. It is the story of two newly engaged couples. It begins with the two men arguing with an older man, who, based on having lived long enough to have gray hair, contends that constancy is never permanent, and, given the right conditions, their idols would not remain faithful. They are irate and about to challenge him to a duel. They finally agree on a bet: if Don Alfonso's attempts--within one day-- to prove his point are successful, he wins; otherwise he will give them a monetary reward. Don Alfonso wins over the wily servant Despina--with money, of course--to join the plot. He announces to the young brides-to-be the "tragic" news--their young men, soldiers, must decamp immediately. The women are devastated. Almost immediately thereafter, the two men, outrageously disguised, return and begin, as Don Alfonso's exotic friends, to woo the young ladies. A crucial twist: Ferrando, who was engaged to Dorabella, woos Fiordiligi; Guiglielmo woos his friend's fiancee. They pretend to take poison, since the women are unyielding; Despina, disguised as a doctor, cures them. End of Act l. During Act 11, the ladies, severely tested, begin to soften. Fiordiligi is the last to give in. A military flourish announces the return of their betrothed in the presence of a notary--Despina in disguise again--who is about to marry them to the now intimate strangers. The plot is revealed and all ends happily. The couples, at least according to Don Alfonso, are now wiser and will live a happier life now that idealistic illusions have been cast aside.
One of the problems of the libretto is that it adheres to the French unities of time, place and plot. A tale about change would be better treated with a Shakespearean expanse; things happen too quickly. The ladies are in danger of appearing frivolous, and, Fiordiligi at least, as Mozart created her, is everything but frivolous. Some of the virtues of Da Ponte's text: there is quite a bit of characterization. Guiglielmo, for instance, who is the most vain of the two, sings, as the opera opens, that his Dorabella could never betray him--it's all about him-- while Ferrando simply praises Dorabella's constancy and beauty. Later on, when Dorabella falls, he consoles the outraged Ferrando, with the following lines, (my translation) "Dear Friend, it is necessary to know differences in all things. Do you think that a bride-to-be could be untrue to a Guiglielmo? I don't want to brag, but all it takes is a little thought, my dear friend, to see that I have more merit."

THE MUSIC

The music, at its best, is among Mozart's best--what more can be said? An example: Fiordiligi's deeply moving aria, "Per pieta" is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful arias of all time. Mozart took this farcical libretto seriously, very seriously, while delighting and even exaggerating its farce. It's the plot of Ariadne auf Naxos: a serious dramatist is forced to join forces with a commedia dell'arte subplot. The exception is that Mozart is the author of both elements and is a master of each. Don Giovanni was a drama giocoso; Cosi even more so. We must admit there is no absolute demarcation between farce and drama in our own lives. This is one of the elements that makes Cosi, despite all its artificiality, so real.
Just what is the deeper context of this masterpiece? The opera is about the inevitability of change. It is about the necessity of change and the pain change causes. We can resist it to the point of despair--Fiordiligi attempts to run off to die in battle--dressed in Fernando's clothes, by the way--rather than submit to the change that has already taken place in her heart. Once change is accepted, something surprisingly good may happen. This opera, like all Mozart operas, ends on positive notes.
Many listeners, especially ones less struck by the beauties of music, fail to appreciate the deeper level of this opera. It is merely a light piece of fluff for them. This is not Mozart's fault; he is incredibly subtle. Those more musically sensitive must appreciate the glories of the score, but may feel that it is on the whole weaker than other masterpieces by Mozart. It isn't; it is for them that I am writing this article. Let's discuss the opera musically, without getting into too many details.

FIORDILIGI'S OPERA

One can only imagine what Rossini would have done with this text. He would have had fun--but not more fun than Mozart--with the farcical elements. It would be entertaining, but no more than that. I submit that his opera--like most of the sixty-odd operas that he wrote--would be forgotten, since this opera needs more than farce to save it. (As a simple comedy, the text of The Barber of Seville is superior.) Mozart created a masterpiece from this text largely due to the divinely musically profound characterization of Fiordiligi. Her music is nothing short of wonderful; all the best music of the opera is either sung by Fiordiligi or by a group of which she is a prominent part. This doesn't mean that the rest of the music isn't good; it just doesn't reach the same level. There is some precedent to this: for me, Papageno in The Magic Flute is the only well delineated character of the opera. But we must admit, there is music in the opera that utterly transcends Papageno's music. Don Alfonso, for instance, is no musical match to Sarastro. But the lesser luminaries of Cosi only make Fiordiligi brighter by contrast. We might complain, for instance, that Ferrando's aria, "un' Aura Amorosa," albeit beautiful, is a bit too sentimental. But that misses the point, for that's how Ferrnado is--a basically decent chap, who lacks the depth of feeling of Fiordiligi.
Certainly, to some degree at least, Da Ponte laid the foundations for Mozart's approach to Fiordiligi. The text has her resist to the very end; her change of heart causes her a good deal of torment. Her constancy is greater than her sister's, but she must not be played as being overly serious. We must not forget her first recitative, (my translation): "It seems to me that I would like to do something a little crazy this morning. I've a certain fire inside me, a certain itching in my veins. When Guglielmo comes, who knows what tricks I'll play." She and her sister first appear after the rather perfunctory scene when the two vain men make their bet. The music turns from good to the height of the sublime. Mozart uses euphonious thirds in the key of A as an introduction to their duet. Yes, we are in heaven and on earth; that's what we hear because that's where the young ladies, in love with love, think they are. But the music is not overly sweet. In measure six occurs a G sharp in the strings against an A in the bass, which is resolved in the following measure, but recurs in the next only to be resolved again. (Mozart is well known for dissonances such as this, examples are numerous, e.g. the last movement of the G Minor Symphony where an actual tone-row occurs before its resolution; another example is the second movement of the Piano Concerto Number 21--all those, dissonant by eighteenth century standards, non diatonic chords!) Mozart loved dissonances, much more than, say, Haydn; as a classical composer, however, he always resolved them quickly. The G sharp still strikes us as painful, but painfully beautiful, since the ear knows it will soon return to a conventional harmony. How are we to interpret this note? Is Mozart telling us that beauty of this intensity is almost painful? Does the G sharp prefigure the conflict that is to come, and does its resolution prefigure the happy end? Do Mozart's brief moments of painful intensity--think of the orchestral passage in the second movement of the twenty-third piano concerto--indicate not only the intensity of music but the fact that music, and everything we know, occurs in time and is thus mortal? Beauty and Death--The music, for those sensitive to it, removes us from our mundane life by plumbing life to its depths.
I contend that this G sharp does all of these things. It is also functional to the plot. The young ladies are in love with love; this will not last. They hardly know the young men to whom they are betrothed. They look at their portraits and derive character traits of their lovers from them. This is important: they do not know their personalities from experience. Their love at this stage is indeed superficial. But this divine duet shows their potential for real love--It is every bit the equal of duets in The Marriage of Figaro or in the Magic Flute--and that's saying a lot.
The point of the music of the opera is not that women are fickle, but that we grow by experience; what causes us to grow is often painful; and that change is inevitable and we'd better off if we get used to it. This may sound overly serious, but, we must recall, the music, which blends farce and utter seriousness--as does life--attains perfection.
After the lovers pretend to go to war, Fiordiligi, Dorabella and Don Alfonso wish them a safe voyage in one of the most beautiful trios ever written.
The false heaven is further broken by the entrance of the two strange men. Fiordiligi resists change till the very end. She is cruelly tested by the men--how frivolous the men are! She demands emphatically that the two exotic lovers, Ferrando and Guiglielmo is disguise, leave the premises immediately. But Don Alfonso pleads that they are wonderful people and his good friends. She begins to show compassion when the two lovers, scorned, fake suicide. She begins to fall in love with the disguised Ferrando. Recall that she was only "in love with love" regarding Guiglielmo, it is significant that she was never alone with him on stage before the trick is played. Remarkably, she falls in love, beautifully and painfully, on stage. (Notice also that the names of the two men in disguise are only mentioned at the end, and cursorily at that; she falls in love with a human being, not a thing like a name--or, as in Scene ll, a portrait.) She sings at this time one of the two gorgeous arias of the opera. "Like a rock, which remains unmoved by storm, so this soul is always strong in faith and in love." We don't believe her; this is sung by a woman in torment. She is desperately trying to remain true to Guiglielmo, a man, and she is discovering, she really doesn't love. The wild vocal leaps of this aria may indicate anger and determination; most of all, they belie the words and reveal a woman in anguish. It is beautiful, worried, majestic and moving. Her second aria, "Per Pieta, ben mio" is one of the best arias ever written. Note that this aria is written in E major. The second note of the E major triad is G sharp, which is a half tone below A. Thus, Firodiligi, in this aria, is just one half step from the A major paradise scene when she first sings; this time the A major she will figuratively enter will have no dissonant G sharp. Mozart's musical message: at the moment of our deepest despair, we might be only a half step away from true happiness! The key relationship here is even more intricate: the "Come Scoglio" aria is in E flat. When Fiordiligi is struggling with herself, she is a half tone away from her despair, which is in E major. She thinks things are getting worse, but she is getting closer and closer to happy A major! (Let me quote Anselm of Canterbury here regarding the epiphany he obtained after being in despair immediately prior to reaching it, doubting that it would ever occur: "When I was tired out with resisting its importunity that which I had despaired of finally came to me." Joy! It is truly amazing that a seemingly frivolous opera captures Anselm's profound emotions perfectly and poignantly in Fiordiligi's aria. The closing chorus is not in A major, however. True, complete happiness does not occur in this life for long, and is better depicted off stage. In this life, happiness always has a G sharp somewhere! The final, rollicking chorus is in C major. (Did Mozart do all this deliberately or subconsciously; probably deliberately, but it doesn't really matter. It is there.) I would like to make a few more comments regarding her glorious aria: Fiordiligi is now in love with Fernando, but is in horrible torment over her infidelity to Guiglielmo. At the end of the aria, she sings that Guiglielmo's "candor" i.e., goodness, deserves something better. There is a wonderful horn accompaniment at this point, which to me is indicative of a very profound triumph. We know the truth about Guiglielmo; he lacks candor. Once again, Mozart sublimely undermines the text. It is Fiordiligi's candor that comes across, not Guiglielmo's She has no more control over her new feelings as over the autonomal functions of her body. That this causes her so much discomfort is indicative of her nobility of soul. Nothing in all of music better illustrates the pain of change. Remember the opera farcically transpires in one day. But Mozart's music tells us that change must occur whether in one day or after many years. (The same aria could be sung by a woman, devoted to the memory of a deceased husband; it is time for life to go on, as we say, but her fidelity can not make the leap.) Finally realizing that she really loves Ferrando and not Guiglielmo, she decides to don his clothes, "The clothes of Fernando will be good for me," and die in battle. Farce united with deep feeling--how well this suited Mozart!
The problem ending has been pointed out in the past. There is no indication how the lovers pair up, when they, now wiser through experience--the women, at least--are reunited. But for me there is not doubt: Fiordiligi is in love with Ferrando, who, by the way is far less vain than Guiglielmo. She will marry him.
I cannot in any way do justice to the transcendent glory of Fiordiligi's music; the sensitive reader--sensitive to music that is--is encouraged to listen for himself, with this little article serving merely as a gentle reminder to not only listen, but to reflect about the opera.

Let me close with a return to the beginning of this article. When I told my friend that although the opera certainly contains outdated conventions--the women love, the men act--this is in no way a sexist opera. Mozart undermines any sexism of the plot by portraying Fiordiligi as a great soul while the men, aside from Don Alfonso, are much more superficial. (If one insists that the opera is sexist, one can musically argue that it is thus sexist against men! Once again, Mozart takes the surface into the depths like a whirlpool, and changes it into something else.) My female friend pointed out the feminine "Tutte" instead of the inclusive "Tutti," indicative, to her, that the plot was sexist. I have two responses to this. First of all that the men are fickle--only those without deep love could play such a hoax--there is no doubt. More are expected of the women. My second answer: it is by operatic convention of the times that the women are portrayed as the ones with deep feeling. We know, as Mozart did, that deep feeling is not confined to women. Mozart's music gives us something more universal, something much more profound: it is the human spirit, like everything else, that is subject to change. Beethoven would be shocked, but, Mozart's music tells us, who knows what Fidelio will feel in the future, say, several years after Floristan's death? The word for the human spirit, or soul, is alma in Italian, a feminine noun. That is the deep meaning of Cosi Fan Tutte--it applies to all. In other words, Cosi Fan Tutte can be translated as We're All Like That. We might not like to realize this about ourselves, but after listening to Mozart's music, the only possible response is: Thank God!