Since I can't seem to think of anything to write about, I might as well argue with Jeanette Winterson. That's not an obscure figure of speech: I really do have a bone to pick with her. Flicking through this month's Gramophone, I came across Jeanette's (sorry, I don't feel scholarly enough tonight to call her "Winterson) little article at the back, the usual "Classical Music and Me" kind of spot. It's pretty innocuous stuff and this is not some kind of vitriolic taking to task. She likes Wagner and Natalie Clein and other things and good for her; she's just edited a collection of opera-themed short stories (called Midsummer Nights) so I suppose in some ways she and I are probably kindred spirits.
But. There's one comment she makes which bothered me. And it still bothers me. She said she detests (I think that was her word — I don't have the magazine here to check) surtitles in opera. She thinks they get in the way of what she deems the essential experience of opera, which she describes as "surrendering". Even leaving aside for now the obvious absurdity of trying to encapsulate the operatic experience in a single concept, let alone a single word — not to mention the mistake of imagining that what you consider the essence of opera is, or should be, the essence of everybody else's experience too — I cannot entirely comprehend this wholesale dismissal of surtitles.
She thinks they get in the way. And she says, blithely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, that you don't really need them anyway, because you can figure out what's going on onstage by reading up on the story beforehand. (I'm paraphrasing here, but only slightly.) I confess, I am amazed. I would have thought of all people, a writer, somebody to whom the sublime complexity language is presumably a vital concern, would see that surtitles have a great deal to offer. Maybe they can present an occasional visual or mental obstacle, but let's not forget the huge obstacle they clear away — as far as possible, they remove the language barrier.
Surtitles allow us to appreciate more than just the broad strokes which a synopsis provides: they give us all the detail. Yes, the music on its own says a hell of a lot — I'd never say otherwise — but there is a reason opera uses music and words. The words — the specific words which that librettist chose and that composer set, the words which that character is singing and that singer is interpreting — matter. And OK, maybe they don't matter to everybody as much as they do to me. Despite the title of this blog, I've no desire to rehash the ancient parole/musica argument, and having admonished Jeanette for doing so, I'm not now going to try and tell you that my approach to opera should be everybody else's. I'm extremely surprised, though, that she's happy to dismiss surtitles like this without admitting even the possibility of their contributing in a very meaningful and life-enhancing way to the operatic experience of many people.
What I really can't get over is her suggestion that the purpose of surtitles can be served equally well by merely boning up on the plot ahead of time. As if a broad strokes understanding of the story were all that anyone could need. As if all the complex dialogue or lyric poetry or punning wit of a libretto (even a mediocre one) serve to do is add a bit more detail to a story whose full richness can still be understood from a programme note or your handy Grove. Would Jeanette suggest that reading the Wikipedia synopsis of Pride & Prejudice is as rich an experience as reading the novel, or that downloading a pixelated Artchive image of an Ingres is as good as seeing it in a gallery? Should we check IMDb and then watch foreign films without subtitles? Are the Cliffs Notes all we need after all? No, I don't for a moment imagine she'd advocate anything of the sort. An appreciation of the details, and of the style in which those details are realised, can vastly enhance our appreciation of the whole. In opera, surtitles are a fantastic way to reveal those details, and yet she urges their removal. It's beyond me.
Just think what we would lose if we functioned along the lines she's apparently suggesting. The poetic humanity of the Marschallin's "Da geht er hin". The ins and outs of Gregor v Prus. The contradictory yet curiously well-rhymed sentiments of a Rossini ensemble. The jokes in Figaro — imagine the poor singers, too, performing a comedy to an audience who can only laugh at visual humour. Even the most shameless showpiece of a rum-ti-tum bel canto rondo e scena makes a bit more sense when we can understand more than just a vague emotion, and what's the good of an old-fashioned "Sangue!" if we don't know what that man shaking his fist is actually bellowing? It's true that all of these things can be appreciated without surtitles — if one understands the language. And many of us do, whether by study or osmosis. That's not necessarily an option for everybody or at every moment, though; surtitles ensure that all the thrills of a nuanced operatic text are available to everybody who wants or needs them.
Maybe reading them does prevent the exact romantic "surrender" which Jeanette desires (and requires?) but her surrender is not necessarily yours or mine, nor is surrender necessarily what we're seeking. I also have trouble agreeing that reading does absolutely prohibit fullblown intoxication. And if it does, you can always just not read them. There's no need to dislike them or wish them away — they're not compulsory, so just ignore them. Lord knows, I do. Most of the seats I book don't let me see them anyway. If it's something I'm particularly obsessed with, then I'll do my best to learn the text beforehand: that, for me, is the only real replacement for surtitles.
Whether I do without them or not, and whether I can see them or not, I'm very happy indeed that they're there.
Opera isn't what I say it is, or what Jeanette Winterson says it is, or in fact what anybody says it is. It's whatever you, in the moment, know it is. There are all kinds of ways and means to appreciate it, to understand it, to love it madly. Surtitles are now an important part of that for a lot of people. I believe their potential to enrich the operatic experience far outweighs their potential to distract. Jeanette believes otherwise. But at least my blogging drought is broken at last. Take that, Winterson.
