The story of Electra is the middle episode in a trilogy of Greek stories about the family of Agamemnon. Each of the three great Greek tragedians - Sophocles, Aeschylus, and Euripides - wrote a version of the Electra story, each with different takes on the central character of Electra.
For Aeschylus, Electra is certain that her father’s murder must be avenged, but is conflicted and unable to commit to doing the deed herself. Hence why her brother Orestes must take the lead.
For Sophocles, Electra is consumed with hatred for her mother and stepfather, perhaps even unhinged and obsessed with revenge. In this account, Orestes is at most an equal participant, and perhaps even a victim of Electra’s revenge.
Euripides portrays Electra as cold and clinical, carrying out the revenge the gods demand. Orestes becomes a mere tool in her hands.
In addition to the three ancients, there are many others who have retold versions of this story. I previously wrote about Electricidad by Luis Alfaro, which our local community college put on. If you want a good summary of the backstory and plot, that post has it.
For this version, the librettist, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, took the Sophocles version as his starting point for his stage play. He then added a bunch of Jung’s psychology - Jung coined the term “Electra Complex” after Hofmannsthal wrote his play - to Elektra’s obsession with revenge.
Composer Richard Strauss saw Hofmannsthal’s play in 1905, and knew it would make a great opera. However, having just written Salome, he worried that it was too similar in its plot and ideas.
Hofmannsthal, however, kept encouraging Strauss to take on the project, and eventually prevailed. The playwright was also a good sport about all the cuts that Strauss insisted upon - much of the overt Jung and Freud was too wordy for an opera, and Strauss pared the action down to make it more stage-friendly.
(In retrospect, Strauss was probably on the right track, as the opera is more often performed than the play.)
For this version, there is a lot more emphasis on Chrysothemis, the forgotten younger sister, who wants a normal life and a family, but is essentially held prisoner along with Elektra by their domineering mother. For both, they hope that young Orestes, sent away as a child to prevent his murder (because he is a rival to the new guy, Aegisth), will return and set things right.
The interplay between the sisters - Elektra consumed by her desire for revenge, and Chrystothemis yearning to marry and have children - makes up a good bit of the first half of the play.
When Aegisth and Klytemnestra announce that Orest is dead, Elektra decides to take matters into her own hand - and nearly convinces Chrystothemis to assist.
Whether the sisters would have carried it out will never be known, because Orest, who is definitely not dead, reappears in disguise, reveals himself to Elektra, and does the dirty deed himself.
Hofmannsthal largely takes the Sophocles version as his model for the play, and focuses a lot on Elektra’s obsession with revenge. However, there is no doubt in this version that Orest is no child manipulated by his older sister. He comes back with a swagger, fully aware that his mother has it in for him, having sold out to her new lover. There is zero hesitation on his part to kill. In fact, he doesn’t even need to use the axe that murdered his father - he has his own. (A bit of a metaphor for coming of age there…)
The other twist that Hofmannsthal puts on things is that Elektra dances herself to death at the end, having accomplished her goal, but finding no ultimate satisfaction in it.
So much for the libretto, which focuses mostly on Elektra’s inner state. This opera is hugely demanding on the singer in that role, as she gets nearly one half of the hour and three-quarters of time.
Strauss’ score is wonderful, lush, rich, and modern. It isn’t atonal, exactly, but it, like Salome, lacks a true tonal center most of the time, with nothing ever quite resolving.
It felt to me a lot like a movie score. While there are arias and so on, they run into each other with no breaks. Indeed, the entire opera is presented in one act, without any pauses.
The music supports the emotions throughout, swelling at each climax, and wringing every bit of pathos out of the conflicts. I love the entire experience of listening to it. (That’s why I picked this opera as the one we went to see this year - Strauss’ music fascinates me.) The emotional landscape of the score makes it a true masterpiece.
The orchestra is huge. According to the program, it requires 95 musicians. It includes a few unusual instruments: four Wagner tubas, and a heckelphone. (Kind of a bass oboe, but not quite the same thing.)
To sing over this group is a challenge, which I am pleased to say, the cast of this one did admirably.
The War Memorial Opera House first hosted Elektra in 1938, and it quickly became apparent that the orchestra pit, although large, would be unable to fit the epic ensemble required. Thus, an additional tunnel under the stage, nicknamed the “Torpedo Room,” was added to accommodate the extra players.
For this production, the San Francisco Opera added a framing story. The set is a museum with artifacts related to the Greek myth. A visitor hides herself inside after becoming obsessed with the story. In the process, the story comes to life, and the visitor herself takes the role of Elektra.
The set was quite creative, with various rooms sliding out on stage - a bedroom, kitchen, foyer - and each of the exhibits becoming a prop in the drama to follow.
Another interesting choice was to use the role of “Tutor of Orest” as a stand-in for the ghost of Agamemnon. I thought that worked well, as it made the entire story haunted from start to finish by the dead father.
As a professional opera company, it was no surprise that the musicianship was top notch. The singing too was excellent. I want to specifically call out Elena Pankratova as Elektra - as I noted, she sang much of the time - at least close to half, although I would not be surprised if she got more than that.
Also notable were Michaela Schuster as Klytemnestra - her malevolence was apparent, and matched Elektra’s unhinged psyche. The two, shall we say, matched. And also Kyle Ketelsen as Orest. It is a baritone part, and his projection and diction were superb. He filled that hall completely.
I should note here that my approach to professional concerts is generally to buy cheap seats and go to more concerts. That was the case here, as we were in the balcony. So I can confidently say that the singers filled the hall to the back.
The dates worked out so that seeing this opera became part of an anniversary trip for my wife and me. We also saw the “Monet in Venice” exhibit at the De Young, which was also a real treat.
In a very real way, the two different art forms as interpreted by Strauss and Monet are connected. Monet painted subjects over and over again as he sought to portray the effects of light and haze as they changed throughout a day. Strauss utilized a primary motif for Agamemnon - it appears not only when his name is sung, but thematically throughout the work - and changed its color as the emotions in the drama changed.
Like Monet, Strauss didn’t use his music to paint a literal, photographic, representation, but instead painted the less literal but deeper truth of the drama using unexpected colors. As Monet did, he found colors that might not have literally appeared, but due to the interaction of light, the human eye, and more importantly, the human brain. So did Strauss in this score, creating colors that seemed almost beyond the spectrum, tapping deep into the human psyche.
To understand both requires standing at a distance, taking in the whole, not just granular detail. The meaning of a Monet painting, like Elektra, isn’t just the plot, or just the music, but the entire picture of obsession, of betrayal, and of reunion. It was quite the experience.
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