Is this how we treat our poets?

'Oscar' at Opera Philadelphia

In
4 minute read
Bosie (Luplau) and Oscar (Daniels) dance in a dream sequence. (© Opera Philadelphia; photo by Kelly & Massa)
Bosie (Luplau) and Oscar (Daniels) dance in a dream sequence. (© Opera Philadelphia; photo by Kelly & Massa)

Bugger. Sodomite. Queer. Not the words we usually associate with Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde, the Irish poet and playwright better known to us as Oscar Wilde. Witty, urbane, and decadent are the terms for how he is usually perceived. Despite his early triumphs and the enduring legacy of his writing, Wilde’s life ended in exile and poverty.

Accused and convicted of “gross indecency” — in other words, homosexuality — in 1895, Wilde was sentenced to two years in prison and was deprived of reading and writing materials for most of that time. After his release, in ill health, he wanted to go on a Catholic retreat, but when his request was denied, he took off for France, where he lived until his death three years later.

Oscar, the opera recently co-commissioned and coproduced by Opera Philadelphia with the Santa Fe Opera, tells the story of Wilde’s trial and imprisonment.

It begins with Bosie

Although married with children, Wilde, at 37, had fallen in love with the then 22-year-old Lord Alfred Douglas, called Bosie. This disparity in their ages might make Wilde seem like the predator, but their story indicates that Bosie was the manipulator, using Wilde to get back at his father, the Marquess of Queensberry, inventor of the rules of modern boxing. Having urged Wilde to sue his father for libel, Bosie left the country and rarely communicated with his lover for the years of Wilde’s trial and imprisonment.

Oscar begins with Wilde (David Daniels) at the top of his game, receiving applause after the opening of Lady Windermere’s Fan and delivering a speech commending the audience for having the brilliance to appreciate his work. But his downfall is already in motion. Queensberry has put out the word that Wilde is not to be given lodging, so he is forced to retreat to the nursery of his friend Ada Leverson (Heidi Stober), a writer whom he calls Sphinx.

They are soon joined by Frank Harris (William Burden), an influential editor and publisher, who is one of Wilde’s only other friends who will see him. After some banter, the talk turns serious. Together, Leverson and Harris try to persuade Wilde to leave the country, but he refuses. Bosie (Reed Luplau), who has already deserted Wilde, appears as a dancer who never speaks, reflecting that at this time, it is Wilde’s remembrance of his lover rather than the actual person that drives him.

The playroom becomes a courtroom, and the toys his accusers, with the jack-in-the-box as judge. Oscar is convicted and sentenced to prison, a harsh place with a cruel Governor (Wayne Tigges) who wants to ensure that Wilde receives no special treatment. Wilde’s time in prison is difficult, with only the memory of Bosie to keep him company, until Harris arranges for a transfer to a less restrictive place. The opera ends as Oscar contemplates what to do on his release. Because we know what will happen, the tragedy does not need to be played out.

Is this how your poets behave?

Connections to the gay rights movement are obvious if never directly dealt with. “Europe asks is this how England treats its poets?” Leverson says to Wilde as he awaits his trial, “while the Americans ask, is this how your poets behave?” These are questions we're still wrestling with even today as gay marriage is being accepted in more places, while at the same time, there is an active movement to keep it from happening. And recent films like The Imitation Game remind us how badly we have treated genius when it deviates from what we like to think of as the norm.

Yet not all bad behavior is treated equally. Athletes can assault their partners, politicians can serve from jail, while gender and sexual bias are not only not forgiven but still punished instead.

“Interesting,” is how I would describe Oscar, and I mean that in a positive sense. It’s a thoughtful opera, perhaps a bit too thoughtful, with some dramatic surprises along the way, such as the nursery courtroom and an actual hanging.

Meaning more than musicality

Let me admit, first, that I prefer lyrical operas with a few good arias thrown in. Oscar, like modern operas in general, is not that kind of opera. Using Wilde’s own writing — particularly De Profundis, a letter he wrote to Bosie while in prison — means that the libretto strives for meaning rather than the musicality of the words themselves.

What Oscar mainly lacks is a dramatic arc. The opera tells us Oscar’s story rather than allowing him to live it. The one moment of crisis for Oscar is his decision to stay and fight rather than flee; the rest of the time we are merely watching the story unfold with little dramatic tension. Even the music stays dark and doesn’t allow for the contrasting lightness of what we assume Wilde’s life to be at the start with the reality of what happened to him. Daniels, too, is more successful as Wilde in defeat than he is at showing us the lighter, more arrogant side of him before his imprisonment.

But as a reminder of how we treat our poets when they dare to break the rules, the opera succeeds.

What, When, Where

Oscar. Music by Theodore Morrison, libretto by John Cox and Theodore Morrison; based on quotations from the writings of Oscar Wilde and his contemporaries. Co-commissioned and coproduced with The Santa Fe Opera, February 6-15, 2015, Opera Philadelphia, at the Academy of Music, Broad and Locust Sts., Philadelphia. 215-893-1018 or www.operaphila.org.

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