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Rating: I had just begun my love affair with opera when I happened to come across a famous film adaptation of Richard Strauss's Elektra, dated 1981, with Leonie Rysanek in the dramatic and very challenging role of the titular heroine. Moreover, it was my first experience with Elektra and, despite Rysanek's convincing, intense performance, despite the disturbing post-industrial aesthetic of the set design, perfect for the atmospheres of that opera, what struck me indelibly were these eight minutes or so, the monologue of Clitemnestra, performed by an Astrid Varnay, 63 years old at the time. The elemental power of her performance had an overwhelming effect on me and contributed to driving me even more decisively not only towards Richard Strauss but, more generally, towards the twilight wonders of early 20th-century German opera (Schreker, Korngold, Zemlinsky), still my favorite repertoire today. In this splendid autobiography, Astrid Varnay recalled that portrayal of Clitemnestra as overly one-dimensional, failing to suggest the complexity, humanity, and faded beauty of the queen of Mycenae, reducing her to a sort of predator, almost a stereotypical "villain." Looking at it now, more or less two years later, I completely understand and, to some extent, share Astrid's critical assessment, but such an exaggerated portrayal of Clitemnestra was exactly what I needed at that time: an example through exaggeration, that's the concept, and, in any case, for me, it will always remain an iconic performance.
This autobiography was published in 1998, a few years after the conclusion of M.me Varnay's long and extraordinarily glorious career, solely in English and German. As you can see, the cover is golden, which suits particularly well the most expensive book I have ever purchased (35 Euros net). Money well spent, I say; 55 Years in Five Acts: My Life in Opera is an inexhaustible goldmine of anecdotes and historical information, invaluable for anyone interested in this world and, more generally, a captivating read, full of passion and irony, not at all focused on technical details. Precisely for this reason, I believe this book could potentially appeal to a much wider audience than its most obvious target, namely opera lovers and insiders. Delving into these pages is no different from reading a beautiful novel that, in my opinion, could perfectly suit a potential film adaptation.
Astrid Varnay led an exceedingly interesting life, both on and off the stage, and she begins her story not from the beginning but from the key turning point, her official stage debut; and perhaps no other opera singer can boast such a debut: at the Metropolitan in New York, in Die Walküre, in the role of Sieglinde alongside giants like Lauritz Melchior (Siegmund) and Helen Traubel (Brünnhilde). At twenty-three years of age, she was called at the last minute to replace the indisposed Lotte Lehmann, another star of the first magnitude, and, despite the overwhelming pressure such circumstances bring, Astrid emerged victorious. Thus began, in the most dazzling way possible, the career of one of the greatest Wagnerian sopranos of the late 20th century, and my favorite Wagnerian soprano (along with Gertrude Grob-Prandl). Oh, I almost forgot: it was December 6, 1941, the eve of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
A descendant of artists (mother a coloratura soprano, father a tenor and later a theatrical impresario, Hungarian expatriates during World War I), Ibolyka Astrid Maria Varnay was born in Stockholm on April 25, 1918, and spent her early childhood in Sweden, then in Norway, and later in Argentina, before landing in New York, where she began her musical training under her mother's guidance. We've already talked about her dream debut, and in the subsequent years, up to 1955, her career remained tied to the New York's foremost theater and the Wagnerian repertoire, which, as she herself recounts, prevented her from dedicating herself to Italian opera, her first love, as much as she would have liked: she never had a chance to sing, for example, La Forza del Destino and Un Ballo in Maschera, a real shame, considering her electrifying interpretations of "Pace mio Dio" and "Morrò ma prima in grazia". However, in a couple of instances, she performed Amneris in Aida, with none other than Renata Tebaldi as the protagonist; when I first read this, it made me ardently wish for the invention of a time machine.
However, Wagner (and Elektra) was the most immediate outlet for a massive, dark, and strongly dramatic voice like hers, illustrating a blend of both soprano and mezzo-soprano qualities; by the mid-1950s, she became one of the principal figures in the revival of the Bayreuth "temple" of Wagner in the postwar period, and in that phase of her career, her name became even more deeply linked to roles such as Isolde, Brünnhilde, Kundry, and Ortrud, the most challenging and vocally demanding of Wagner's female characters, and Astrid offers her readers beautiful "portraits" of each of these heroines, testifying to her uncommon interpretative depth and psychological characterisation for which she was universally applauded. Someone, due to these characteristics as well as her previously mentioned vocal qualities, has likened her to the Wagnerian Callas, an appellation that, in my view, fits her perfectly.
However, M.me Varnay further elaborates on some characters she portrayed in the final phase of her career, particularly the humble Mamma Lucia in Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana and the Kostelnicka in Leos Janacek's Jenufa, an extremely dramatic and easily misunderstood character; these two figures of older, modest women, as far removed from the concept of "heroine" as one can imagine, are dedicated entire, thoroughly detailed chapters, among the most interesting and engaging in the entire book. This version of Astrid Varnay as a mezzo-soprano character actress is also, of course, that of Clitemnestra and Herodias, an almost analogous role in Strauss/Wilde's Salome, among other things. In this case, the role she desired but never attained is Azucena (Il Trovatore), another deep regret.
There is certainly no shortage of colorful and often humorous anecdotes about her colleagues and industry figures: other great Wagnerian icons like Lauritz Melchior, Wolfgang Windgassen, Hans Hotter and her "almost twin" Martha Mödl, as well as Renata Tebaldi, Mario del Monaco, Montserrat Caballé, José Carreras, and Piero Cappuccilli, among others. Of course, mentions are made of Birgit Nilsson, the most famous and recorded among the dramatic/Wagnerian sopranos of that golden generation, for whom M.me Varnay expresses great esteem and also a few (veiled but not too much) good-natured barbs. Far sharper criticisms are reserved for Herbert Von Karajan and, above all, Rudolf Bing, superintendent of the Metropolitan and a highly controversial figure in opera circles at the time, not to forget the "modern" directors, and their bizarre if not outright ridiculous and/or vulgar productions, more concerned with conveying their own more or less intellectual message than representing the operas while respecting the historical context in which they were conceived.
Unfortunately, few "official" recordings of Astrid Varnay's complete operatic performances remain to be passed down to future generations, while performers with not even a gram of her personality and artistic profundity have left extensive discographies. In my personal collection is only a marvelous "Live in Bayreuth" Lohengrin from 1953 in the role of Ortrud, one of her great war horses, with Wolfgang Windgassen (Lohengrin) and Eleanor Steber (Elsa). A precious testament to her years of greatest splendor, her dark and majestic voice. Likewise, this sumptuous 1951 recital, almost like a personal greatest hits collection; risking rhetoric, I say that, unfortunately, I don't believe that voices like hers, artists of the caliber of Astrid Varnay, exist or will exist in the future. At the end of the five acts (in essence a Grand Opera) of her autobiography, she concludes with a Shakespearean quote, from Hamlet, and I too would like to end in the same way, as a further homage to this immense artist and because the passage in question perfectly mirrors my own sentiments and I share her choice.
This above all; to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee.
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