Opera for Revolution: Examining the Program 🔎
Through this high-drama, high-emotion artform, our concert on November 1, 2026 will serve as a reminder of what is at stake on Election Day. Politics is more than mere partisanship—it’s about human rights, freedom of expression, shining a light on injustice, standing up for what is right, and resisting tyranny with every fiber of our being. Some works serve as warnings of what happens when we surrender our agency, others inspire us to stay strong and keep going even when the going is difficult.
The featured excerpts, from a wide variety of operas, form a dramatic arc woven together by common threads: examining tyranny in its various forms; how it impacts those living under its yoke; and how hope, spirit, and determination are universal keys to dismantling it.
Overture to William Tell: Finale
William Tell (1829)
Music by Giaochino Rossini, Libretto by Victor-Joseph Étienne de Jouy & L.F. Bis
The Opera: Based on the eponymous play by German playwright and poet Friedrich Schiller (of “Ode to Joy” fame), Rossini’s final opera recounts the tale of Switzerland’s most famous folk hero. In the 14th century, Switzerland was a collection of independent smaller regions called cantons ruled by the Austrian Habsburg dynasty. According to legend, William Tell was an expert marksman and mountaineer. In one notable scene, he refuses to bow to the Austrian lord Gessler; Tell’s punishment is to shoot an apple off of his son’s head with an arrow, which he does successfully. This incident infuriates Tell and motivates him to rally the people of his and two neighboring cantons into open rebellion against the Austrian regime. Their successful revolution and subsequent alliance leads to the founding of the Swiss Confederacy, the precursor to the modern state of Switzerland.
The Excerpt: While the full overture clocks in at about 12 minutes, it’s the final three minutes that have become one of opera’s most well-known excerpts, making appearances in countless commercials, movies, and, of course, Looney Tunes.
The Motivation: The Finale took on new life as the theme music for a distinctly American hero: The Lone Ranger. Along with his Native American companion Tonto and his horse Silver, the rogue Texas Ranger first galloped into American pop culture via the radio waves in 1933, and later in comic books, several films, and most notably a TV show that aired from 1949 to 1957. The Lone Ranger was “made for radio audiences of the Great Depression…the government [had failed] to protect the American people from one of the worst financial experiences of American history… [Enter] a masked vigilante who operated outside the bounds of government, but in the interests of the law-abiding public…” Nearly a century later, with wealth inequality reaching staggering new levels and the cracks in the capitalist system widening yet again, we find ourselves asking…who will be the people’s hero for our era?
“Dovunque al mondo”
Madama Butterfly (1904)
Music by Giacomo Puccini, Libretto by Luigi Illica & Giuseppe Giacosa
The Opera: Inspired by David Belasco’s one-act play “Madame Butterfly: A Tragedy of Japan,” Puccini's adaptation is set in Nagasaki, Japan, between 1904 and 1907. The plot centers on the tragic relationship between Japanese teenager Cio-Cio-San and Lieutenant Benjamin Franklin (B.F.) Pinkerton, U.S. Navy. Madama Butterfly has faced considerable scrutiny in recent years: Between its reliance on orientalism, cultural appropriation in costume and set design, and opera companies’ penchant for casting white singers in yellowface, some in the classical music community have called for its removal from the repertoire entirely. However, PROTESTRA has always advocated for and embraced context and nuance in artistic decision-making. Although elements of many past productions of Madama Butterfly have indeed been deeply problematic, these were deliberate choices. It’s therefore incumbent upon today’s arts leaders to reflect, learn, and commit to making artistic choices that celebrate this stunning work and the aspects of Japanese culture it depicts.
The Excerpt: The marriage broker Goro has just leased Pinkerton a house on a hill overlooking Nagasaki Bay. The lease is month-to-month, valid for 999 years. Included in the rent are a maid, a cook, a servant boy, and a 15-year-old geisha bride. The geisha’s real name is Cio-Cio-San, but she is known as “Butterfly.” Pinkerton only intends to stay in his marriage of convenience to Cio-Cio-San until he finds “a real American wife.” The American consul Sharpless joins him and Goro; Pinkerton boasts about his distinctly American attitude towards life: The world is mine for the taking, consequences be damned!
The Motivation: Pinkerton is the personification of the U.S. in its overseas imperial days: Arrogant. Brash. Opportunistic. Lustful. Indifferent at best, hostile at worst. Always the hero of his own story. Cares little about the destruction he leaves in his wake until it’s too late. This is also an apt description of the U.S. in 2026 under the “Don-roe Doctrine.” Venezuela. Iran. Cuba and Canada, Gaza and Greenland—all fair game. Throw in the “Gulf of America” and “Lake America” for good measure. It would seem being “great again” entails invading (or threatening to invade) with impunity again.
(CW: pedophilia, child trafficking, suicide) Pinkerton also represents the depraved wealthy elite to Goro’s Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. When Pinkerton learns that Cio-Cio-San is only 15 years old, he isn’t dissuaded at all; in fact, his desire for her only deepens. Should Pinkerton choose to terminate his child marriage, Goro will be waiting with an “extensive assortment” of new girls to choose from. Like many of Epstein and Maxwell’s victims, Cio-Cio-San is deceived into thinking that Pinkerton represents a way out for her and her family. Her suicide at the end of the opera is emblematic of the shame and depression felt so deeply by today’s victims who have also been abused and discarded by men in power. Â
“Der Hölle Rache”
Die Zauberflöte (1791)
Music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder
The Opera: Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) was Mozart’s final opera, completed and premiered just two months before his death. (Fun Fact: Librettist Emanuel Schikaneder also debuted the role of Papageno the Birdcatcher in the first production!) While Mozart set all of his previous operas in historical or realistic locales, here he transports us to a world of magic, born of fables and fairy tales featuring whimsical characters on fantastical quests, yet steeped in politics, Masonic symbolism, and the struggle between good and evil. But for all the Enlightenment-era ideals it espouses—reason, education, virtue—it portrays a rigid hierarchical society in which men alone control its institutions, while women are subjected to tests of worthiness, restrictions on their agency, and patriarchal expectations. It therefore also reminds us, intended or not, that oppressors frequently characterize those they oppress as manipulative and unreasonably aggressive when they attempt to reclaim power.
The Excerpt: Earlier in the opera, the Queen of the Night promises Prince Tamino her daughter Princess Pamina’s hand in marriage. The catch: He must first rescue Pamina from the Queen’s sworn nemesis, the high priest Sarastro. Tamino reaches Pamina, but Sarastro intervenes and subjects the pair to three trials; if they complete them successfully, they may enter the Temple of Light and Tamino may join Sarastro’s brotherhood. Notably, modern productions often omit a crucial plot point from the original libretto: On his deathbed, the Queen of the Night’s husband bequeathed the Temple to Sarastro instead of her, thereby rendering her powerless. Now the Queen learns that her daughter intends to betray her as well. She hands Pamina a dagger and launches into a furious tirade (arguably opera’s most famous “rage aria”): If Pamina doesn’t kill Sarastro, the Queen will disown her forever!
The Motivation: The pursuit of vengeance against one’s perceived enemies has been a running theme in the last decade of American politics. Some public officials are more open about these desires than others, and some willfully abuse the power of their office to dole out punishment. This is certainly not a new phenomenon, but it has been amplified in recent years by gerrymandering, unlimited campaign spending, the attention economy, and algorithmic siloing. And it is a dangerous result of the foundational binaries upon which our two-party system is built: blue versus red, left versus right, us versus them—never mind that many of us don’t fall neatly into one of any two categories. As long as political theater takes precedence over problem solving, we all lose, and we have little hope of tackling our country’s most dire societal issues and bringing about the “more perfect Union” that our Constitution dares us to envision and actualize.
Introduction – "Tarquinius does not wait” – “Within this frail crucible of light”
The Rape of Lucretia (1946)
Music by Benjamin Britten, Libretto by Ronald Duncan
The Opera: (CW: sexual assault, suicide) Benjamin Britten, a self-proclaimed pacifist, composed this chamber opera in 1946, just after World War II and his return to Great Britain following a self-imposed exile in the United States. The story, set in 500 BCE Rome, is based on a story first found in Livy’s History of Rome, which has inspired many other retellings including a poem by Shakespeare. Lucretia, the wife of the Roman general Collatinus, is assaulted at home by the prince Tarquinius while her husband is away. The following day, Lucretia—traumatized by what Tarquinius has done to her—commits suicide. The action is framed by two Greek chorus-like characters, known only as Male Chorus and Female Chorus, who act as powerless narrators, looking back on the events of the story from a later era. It is partially this non-realistic, overtly theatrical storytelling concept that makes it easy for contemporary audiences to see their own culture reflected in this unfortunately timeless story.
The Excerpt: The Male Chorus introduces the political and moral circumstances surrounding the opera’s events in ancient Rome. Tarquinius, the Etruscan prince and son of the ruling king, has risen to power in a society sustained by military conquest, patriarchal authority, and the subjugation of others. The Chorus establishes the contrast between Rome’s public ideals and the corruption beneath its powerful rulers. In “Tarquinius does not wait,” Tarquinius gallops through the night on horseback towards Lucretia’s home. His journey is driven by wounded pride and a desire to test Lucretia’s celebrated chastity, turning what might appear to be a simple visit into a demonstration of his entitlement and power. In his aria, “Within this frail crucible of light,” the predatory Tarquinius reflects on the darkness, vulnerability, and intimacy that surround him as he approaches his intended prey.
The Motivation: Abuse of power and sexual violence against women are inextricably linked. For male leaders throughout history, power has come with a sense of absolute entitlement to women’s and girl’s bodies; time and time again, the self-perceived prestige of an empire has engendered the depravity of its ruling class. In our American empire, many of our male leaders are no exception. Our president established a reputation for lurking in girl’s dressing rooms at beauty pageants; has bragged about groping women; maintained close friendships with known child traffickers and pedophiles; and, most recently, settled a sexual assault case lodged against him by E. Jean Carroll for $83 million. But he’s just a symptom and just one example of the deeper-lying issue: When male leaders demonstrate that sexual violence against women is not only acceptable but also an inherent “perk” of being a man, their impunity trickles down to the male population at large, particularly young men and boys who regard them as role models. And they face few to no repercussions for their crimes because they’re the beneficiaries and upholders of an arcane legal system designed to protect perpetrators and place an impossible burden of proof upon victims. How can we ever ensure safety for women when so many men have learned that consent is merely a suggestion, and that inflicting sexual violence against women is something to which they should aspire?
Act II
Tosca (1900)
Music by Giacomo Puccini, Libretto by Luigi Illica & Giuseppe Giacosa
The Opera: Tosca is set in Rome on June 14, 1800, during a period of political upheaval as Napoleon’s revolutionary forces challenge the authoritarian Papal government. The painter Mario Cavaradossi secretly supports the republican cause, while the ruthless police chief Baron Scarpia uses his power to hunt political dissidents and manipulate Tosca, Cavaradossi’s lover. The opera portrays the clash between revolutionary ideals and authoritarian rule, with Scarpia representing the corruption, religious hypocrisy, torture, and abuse of power of the old regime. Tosca attempts to use Scarpia’s own power against him to save Cavaradossi, but the harsh realities of the political landscape ultimately destroy all three characters; the opera is a tragedy about repression, political resistance, and the devastating consequences of unchecked authority.
The Excerpt: Cavaradossi has helped Cesare Angelotti, a political prisoner and former consul of the short-lived Roman Republic, escape from prison and hide at his villa. Scarpia hopes to discover Angelotti’s whereabouts and suppress the republican resistance. When Cavaradossi refuses to cooperate, Scarpia orders his torture to continue in an adjoining room. Tosca is brought in and, desperate to stop Cavaradossi’s suffering, reveals that Angelotti is hiding in a well at the villa. When Cavaradossi realizes she’s betrayed the secret, he condemns her, but his defiance turns to triumph when news arrives that Napoleon Bonaparte has defeated the royalist forces at the Battle of Marengo, reversing the political fortunes of Scarpia’s side. Cavaradossi celebrates the republican victory, enraging Scarpia, who orders him arrested and sentenced to death. Scarpia then offers Tosca a bargain: Cavaradossi’s life in exchange for her sexual submission. Horrified, Tosca struggles with the choice but agrees when Scarpia promises a mock execution that will allow Cavaradossi to escape. As Scarpia writes a safe-conduct pass, Tosca notices a knife on his table and stabs him to death when he approaches her. She takes the document and leaves to arrange Cavaradossi’s escape, believing she has secured their freedom.
The Motivation: The tragedy of Tosca is bigger than the characters in it. Abuse of power and the cycle of violence threaten to kill all the beauty in the world, and it truly never ends; the drama that unfolds during this opera set 226 years ago could just as easily be set today. Some humans have always been this way and it sadly seems some always will. And they’re nothing without their enablers, people willing to cozy up to powerful people and do their bidding in hopes that they’ll avoid an untimely end and, perhaps, claim a few shreds of power in the process. But while there has always been strife and conflict, there have also always been people fighting for the good things that matter—and, in our opinion, one of the things that makes life worth living is creating art. Life is a struggle, yes, and often a painful one—that’s the “gig” of being human. But despite the difficulties, we don’t get to opt out of trying to make the world a better place—that much is non-negotiable.
“To this we’ve come … Papers!”
The Consul (1950)
Music & Libretto by Gian Carlo Menotti
The Opera: (CW: suicide) Menotti composed The Consul at the beginning of the Cold War, as the “Iron Curtain” divided Europe into democratic and authoritarian halves. The opera is his pointed musical response to watching refugees flee Europe after World War II and his experience of previously being labeled as an “enemy alien” (he was an Italian immigrant living in the US during the war). In an unnamed Eastern European country, John Sorel, a political dissident, is forced into hiding after fleeing the authorities, while his wife Magda attempts to obtain visas from a foreign consulate so that the family can escape the country. As John’s political resistance puts the family in increasing danger, the opera portrays the dehumanizing effects of authoritarianism, political repression, exile, and bureaucracy, while also highlighting the vulnerability of ordinary people trapped between an oppressive government and an indifferent international political system. Ultimately, Magda learns that much of her family has died and that John has been arrested; she chooses to take her own life and the opera ends with the consulate telephoning her in vain.
The Excerpt: Magda reaches a breaking point as she confronts the bureaucratic machinery preventing her family from escaping their oppressive government. Desperate to obtain visas for herself, her husband John, and their child, Magda pleads with the consular officials, only to be met with endless demands for documents, signatures, and additional proof. As her frustration turns to outrage, she denounces a system that reduces human suffering to paperwork and treats desperate refugees as administrative problems rather than people in dire need of help. The aria builds from indignation to a furious, anguished outcry, exposing the cruelty of bureaucracy and the devastating consequences of political persecution.Â
The Motivation: Capitalism and neoliberalism rely upon endless bureaucratic labyrinths meant to prevent people from obtaining the help they need by deterring them from seeking it out in the first place; the dehumanization is a feature, not a bug. The customer trying to cancel a subscription service, the resident of a town or city seeking to have a permit approved, the patient being denied a claim by a medical insurance company, the desperate refugee in search of political asylum and a better life…they all fall along the same spectrum of indifference. They’re all captives and victims of the same apathetic institutional ideals that have infected the private and public sectors alike: people should be self-sufficient, people who are not self-sufficient are disposable, and suffering is an acceptable fate for people who can’t follow an arbitrary set of ever-changing rules and regulations. We’ve been led to believe that these systems are inevitable, that there’s no other viable choice. But this is a false dichotomy—surely we can reconstruct our systems and institutions in a human-centric way. As author Ursula K. LeGuin stated, “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable—but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.” If we’re ever to move humanity forward, we must find the political will to embrace this spirit of resistance and change before these inhuman, sociopathic systems destroy us all.
“Senza mamma”
Suor Angelica (1918)
Music by Giacomo Puccini, Libretto by Giovacchino Forzano
The Opera: The second piece in Puccini’s Il Trittico, three one-act operas intended to be performed as a set, Suor Angelica is set in a convent in 17th-century Italy. The title character is a young aristocratic woman whose family forces her to become a nun (“Suor” = “Sister”) after she gives birth to a child out of wedlock. Her family has taken the child away from her, reflecting the harsh social and moral expectations placed on women and the severe consequences of violating conventions surrounding sexuality, marriage, and family honor. When Angelica learns that her child has died, she’s overwhelmed by grief and takes poison, only to realize too late that suicide is considered a mortal sin in Catholic teaching. As she dies from the poison, she hears a “miracle chorus” of angels expressing forgiveness for her sin and sees a vision of her lost child. The work explores the intersection of religious authority, patriarchal social structures, family control, and the limited choices available to women who transgress societal expectations.
The Excerpt: Sister Angelica mourns the death of her young son, whom she has only just learned has died. After spending seven years in a convent, separated from her child, Angelica had clung to the hope of seeing him again. Devastated by the news, she imagines him lying alone without his mother to comfort him, kiss him, or guide him into the afterlife. Her grief becomes a desperate longing to join him in death, as she prays to the Virgin Mary to reunite her with her son.Â
The Motivation: For a country that claims to be pro-”family values,” we don’t make many public policy decisions that benefit all children and their families. We don’t provide basic maternal healthcare and abortion access that ensure healthy pregnancies for mothers-to-be; as a result, the U.S. ranks nearly last in the world for miscarriages and women must often travel across state lines to receive life-saving care. We don’t provide universal paid family leave, so new parents are often unable to care for their children at the beginning of their lives. We don’t provide a basic social safety net, including universal healthcare, so many parents must work multiple jobs to earn a living and benefits in lieu of spending quality time with their children as they grow up. We tie quality of education to property taxes, so children in lower-income (usually minority-majority) school districts don’t receive the same caliber of instruction as their more affluent (usually white) counterparts. We don’t enact common sense gun laws, so we’re the only country in the world where children must be prepared to encounter active shooters at school, and where educators must be prepared to put their lives on the line to defend their students. And for children with non-citizen parents, forced separation, detention, and deportation constantly threaten to tear their families apart and leave them without a mother or a father. Our political leaders have utterly failed our children with their hollow rhetoric, their “thoughts and prayers.” Isn’t it deeply shameful that the people running the wealthiest, “greatest” country on Earth are so unwilling to give the next generation a fighting chance at a brighter future?
“O signor, di Fiandra arrivo”
Don Carlo (1867)
Music by Giuseppe Verdi, Italian Libretto by Angelo Zanardini
The Opera: Verdi’s longest and most famous grand opéra, Don Carlo was first set to a French libretto and premiered at the Paris Opéra. Over the course of five acts, this historical drama explores the struggle between Spain’s absolute Catholic monarchy and the people of Flanders, who are suffering under Spanish rule and seeking greater political freedom. Don Carlo, heir to the Spanish throne, becomes sympathetic to the Flemish cause thanks to the influence of his friend Rodrigo, the Marquis of Posa, who advocates political liberty, religious tolerance, and an end to Spain’s persecution of Protestants and other religious dissidents. Opposing them are Filippo (Philip II, King of Spain and Carlo’s father) and the Catholic Inquisition, which defends absolute royal authority and Catholic orthodoxy, using imprisonment and the threat of heresy trials and executions to suppress dissent. Family drama looms large: Carlo’s forbidden love for Elisabetta (Elizabeth of Valois)—formerly his fiancée but now his father’s wife—becomes entangled with the larger political and religious conflict, ultimately leading to Posa’s death, Carlo’s arrest and condemnation, and Elisabetta’s devastation. The opera also features elements of a ghost story: It concludes with a mysterious monk implied to be the spirit of recently deceased Holy Roman Emperor Carlo V (Charles V, Carlo’s grandfather) offering Carlo a deus-ex-machina release from his earthly sorrows.
The Excerpt: Filippo engages in private conversation with Rodrigo after dismissing the other members of the court. Filippo has expressed his admiration for Rodrigo’s boldness and loyalty, and has invited him to speak freely. Rodrigo seizes the opportunity to plead for the oppressed people of Flanders; he describes the suffering they endure under Spanish military occupation, religious persecution, and the King’s brutal policies. Filippo defends his rule, arguing that force and bloodshed are necessary to maintain peace and suppress rebellion. Rodrigo challenges this reasoning, condemning the King’s so-called “peace” as a reign of terror and urging him to embrace a more humane vision of leadership. He appeals to Filippo to become a liberator rather than an oppressor, inspiring the world through compassion and granting freedom to Flanders. (Immediately after this scene, Filippo leaves Rodrigo with the veiled threat that while he won’t punish him for questioning the King’s actions, the Inquisition might not be so forgiving….)
The Motivation: The “peace” that Filippo brings to Flanders is the same “peace” that the U.S.—often using the CIA as its enforcer—has brought to every country it’s sought to subjugate throughout its long history of imperial conquest. It’s the same “peace” that created the War on Drugs and the school-to-prison pipeline, destroying communities here at home. It’s the same “peace” that American-made missiles deliver to the Middle East, which will almost certainly catalyze further armed backlash and instability in the region. But then, somehow always surprised and insulted that oppressed, tormented people eventually dare to fight back, bloodthirsty leaders double down and perpetuate the seemingly never-ending cycle of conflict. Will world leaders ever learn that violence only begets more violence? That ruling with unyielding force does not actually make for better societies, either at home or abroad? If current events are any indication, the only peaceful planet they can envision is a dead one.
“Quiero cantar entre las explosiones”
Ainadamar (2003)
Music by Osvaldo Golijov, Libretto by David Henry Hwang
The Opera: A non-linear series of episodic flashbacks and memories, Ainadamar is an “opera in three images” that recounts the life of Federico GarcĂa Lorca, Spain’s most celebrated 20th-century poet and playwright, as related by his friend and muse, stage actress Margarita Xirgu. Lorca catapulted to fame as a member of the avant-garde literary and artistic collective called the “GeneraciĂłn del 27.” An openly gay socialist artist from Andalusia, he quickly became a target of Francisco Franco’s Falangist (right-wing nationalist) forces at the outset of the Spanish Civil War. Tragically, at just 38 years old, Lorca was imprisoned without trial and executed by firing squad soon after; his body has never been recovered. Xirgu self-exiled to South America and became a lifelong champion of Lorca’s dramas; the title role in Mariana Pineda (a 19th-century Spanish revolutionary) was her signature, and excerpts of this play provide a recurring narrative throughline for the opera. Ainadamar is a Spanish name of Arabic origin and translates to “Fountain of Tears,” a reference to the natural spring in Granada near which Lorca was murdered and martyred.
The Excerpt: This duet (“I want to sing among the explosions”) is the centerpoint of the opera and serves as its dramatic and emotional climax. It is August 1936, the very beginning of the war. Lorca belts out a fiery “cante jondo” (“deep song”), flamenco at its rawest and most passionate; he laments his beloved homeland as it descends into chaos, neighbor pitted against neighbor. Margarita tries to convince him to leave with her for Cuba, but he’s made up his mind to stay, to bear witness to and artistically document the atrocities rapidly unfolding around him. A Radio Falange broadcast rallies nationalist sympathizers to “exterminate the seeds of the revolution,” foreshadowing and sealing Lorca’s imminent fate.
The Motivation: By necessity, authoritarians must stifle dissent and nonconformity. They construct their regimes upon their chosen ideals and know they’re only as powerful as their ability to force those ideals upon others. Consequently, authoritarians typically begin their reigns of terror by restricting, imprisoning, deporting, or eliminating those they deem “countercultural.” This typically includes (but is not limited to) ethnic and religious minorities; anyone who voices or is suspected of holding opposing political views; those who don’t fit the mold of heteronormative “family values”; people with disabilities or chronic illnesses; and creatives who use art to criticize their oppressors. This early stage of tyranny is already underway in the US, but the die is not yet fully cast. We still have time to sing our own “immense song,” to fight back and turn the ship around.
“Er sterbe!”
Fidelio (1814)
Music by Ludwig van Beethoven, Original Libretto by Joseph Sonnleithner
The Opera: Two years prior to the events of the opera: Spanish nobleman Florestan threatens to expose the crimes of rival nobleman Don Pizarro. Bad move, Florestan—Pizarro is the governor of a prison. He secretly locks up Florestan and tells everyone he has died. Fast forward: Florestan’s wife Leonore suspects he’s still alive. She disguises herself as a young man—“Fidelio,” meaning “faithful”—and acquires a job at Pizarro’s prison working for the warden. The jailer, Rocco, forbids Fidelio/Leonore from visiting the dungeons, where one cell in particular houses a man who has progressively wasted away for two years. Leonore’s intuition is confirmed when she covertly follows Pizarro into the dungeons and overhears him commanding Rocco to dig a grave for Florestan.
The Excerpt: In this Act II quartet, Pizarro descends into the prison’s dungeon to murder Florestan before the arriving Minister (Pizarro’s boss) can discover his crimes. Pizarro reveals his identity to the weakened Florestan and prepares to stab him, but Fidelio/Leonore intervenes, placing herself between the two men and threatening to expose Pizarro’s treachery. When Pizarro attempts to proceed, Leonore draws a pistol, reveals her identity, and declares that he must kill her first. Rocco is caught between his obedience to Pizarro and his moral compass, his horror growing at the murder he’s been commanded to facilitate. As the confrontation reaches its climax, a trumpet announces the arrival of the Minister, interrupting the attempted execution and forcing Pizarro to abandon his sinister scheme.Â
The Motivation: Fidelio was Beethoven’s first and only opera. Composing a dramatic work for the stage proved to be a deeply frustrating experience—he revised it several times over the course of a decade and remarked to one of the librettists that “this opera will win me a martyr’s crown.” But despite Beethoven’s characteristic consternation, Fidelio is a triumph of his early “heroic period”—after learning of his progressive deafness, he threw himself wholly into composing bold new works that challenged musical conventions and encapsulated his revolutionary ideals. Beethoven’s music is a timeless reminder of what it means to be human, to struggle against seemingly unbeatable odds, and to emerge victorious in spite of the adversity we face. Fidelio gained further significance after World War II—German conductor Wilhelm Fürtwängler reflected: “This is the opera which, thanks to the music of Beethoven, gives us comfort and courage.... It is this 'nostalgia of liberty' he feels, or better, makes us feel; this is what moves us to tears. …the sentiments it expresses…preach a 'religion of humanity' which we never found so beautiful or necessary as we do today, after all we have lived through. … We realize that…this music will always represent an appeal to our conscience.” Like Leonore, may we all find the courage and strength to persevere, face our fears, and finally deliver true liberty and justice for all. And like Beethoven, may we all get angry while we do it.
Epilogue
Blue (2019)
Music by Jeanine Tesori, Libretto by Tazewell Thompson
The Opera: Blue was commissioned by The Glimmerglass Festival in 2015 and received its world premiere there in 2019. The opera follows a middle-class Black family in contemporary Harlem. The Son of the family grows up to be a non-violent political activist. While he remains close with his Mother, his choices consistently place him at ideological odds with his Father, a police officer. When the Son is fatally shot at a protest, the Father struggles with his faith and identity in the face of his loss. At the end of the opera, the Father and Mother contend with grief, nostalgia, and regret as they attempt to comprehend the loss of their child amid an increasingly dangerous political landscape.Â
The Excerpt: The Epilogue is an imagined scene in which the Son, who was tragically killed during a protest earlier in the opera, is still alive. The scene begins with the Father and Son arguing offstage, echoing their confrontation in Act I and recalling the tensions that colored their relationship: the teenage Son’s rebellious views and activist fight for social justice contrasted with the Father’s career as a police officer and commitment to upholding the order of the law. The Mother calls them to dinner, elaborating on the bounty of traditional African-American foods she has prepared, as she tries to bring the family together around the table. The familiar domestic ritual unfolds as Father and Son put aside their differences and return to the dinner table. They sit down together to say grace, briefly inhabiting the ordinary family moment that’s been stolen from them. This imagined reunion offers a poignant vision of what their lives might have been had their Son survived—contrasting the everyday family experiences of not only tension and disagreement, but also a deep unabiding love for one another, with the devastating reality of his death.Â
The Motivation: At several points in our lives, we’ve all experienced remorse and have all probably imagined a scene like this one. What if I hadn’t said what I said, done what I did? What if things had unfolded differently? What would my life be like now? This opera is a tragic reminder that life has no rewind button; what’s done can’t be undone. And this scene is about more than sitting around the table for dinner; the meal is the vehicle for the larger message that speaks to what every family—whether biological or chosen—wishes for. A safe and stable home. Celebrating our unique cultures and shared traditions. Finding common ground and reconciliation despite our ideological differences. Living out the most fundamental iteration of community and mutual support. Blue is about one specific family, but the story it tells is one every single family can relate to. How can we use the power of our vote to advocate for the health, safety, and wellbeing of all families, both for ourselves and our neighbors? This isn’t a zero-sum game—it’s time to build a bigger dinner table, give every family their seats, and nourish our bodies and souls as we honor our collective humanity.
“Nessun dorma”
Turandot (1926)
Music by Giacomo Puccini & Franco Alfano, Libretto by Giuseppe Adami & Renato Simoni
The Opera: The story of Turandot first appeared in the epics of 12th-century Persian poet Nizami, but Puccini drew his inspiration from Friedrich Schiller’s 1801 adaptation. Set in China in the mythic past, the opera’s title character is the Emperor’s daughter, a tyrannical princess profoundly shaped by her distant ancestor’s sexual assault by an invading prince. Calà f, the deposed Prince of Tartary, arrives in Peking and falls in love with Turandot the moment he sees her. But in order to win her hand in marriage, he must succeed in answering her three riddles. Should he fail, as have countless suitors before him, he will be publicly beheaded before Turandot’s bloodthirsty subjects. Although many try to dissuade him, Calà f strikes a ceremonial gong three times, announcing his intent to face the princess’s challenge.
Puccini died in 1924 and left Turandot unfinished. His publisher chose Alfano to complete the end of the third act using Puccini’s sketches; this version is performed most frequently, though sections of his work are often omitted for not sounding sufficiently “Puccini-esque.” As in the opera, many subsequent suitors (composers) have offered up their own completed versions—most have been met with mixed to negative reception, though to our knowledge none have been decapitated for trying.
The Excerpt: CalĂ f has passed Turandot’s test. Nonetheless, she recoils at the thought of marrying him. CalĂ f offers her a compromise: She can execute him if she correctly guesses his name, which she does not know; if she does not, she must marry him. The cruel and emotionally cold princess then decrees that none of her subjects shall sleep that night until his name is discovered. If they fail, all will be killed. As the final act opens, it is now night. CalĂ f is alone in the moonlit palace gardens. In the distance, he hears Turandot's heralds proclaiming her command. His aria begins with an echo of their cry and a reflection on Princess Turandot.Â
The Motivation: Why are our leaders the way they are? Which experiences—whether their own or someone else’s—have shaped them into the humans they became? It’s important to remember that our leaders are just that: humans. Flawed, biased, inflexible, irrational humans. Left unchecked, the ones in charge have the potential to do catastrophic damage. Fortunately, the U.S. is still a democracy for now. A gerontocracy? Yes. A plutocracy? Clearly. A crumbling empire clinging to a whitewashed, glorified past that never existed for everyone? You had to know this concert was going to get political. We the People still possess the right to choose our government representatives—we need to choose the ones who will actually work for us, put the common good before private gains, and fix our broken country. Who will be our Calà f? His choice seems futile, but it’s actually revolutionary: He refuses to give up on the possibility of a different future, holding fast to the belief that love can change Turandot’s heart, break the cycle of violence, and transform the kingdom. Against all odds, he votes for hope. Voting won’t fix everything, but not voting won’t fix anything—let’s embrace his revolutionary spirit and choose to believe that we can still take a stand, raise our voices, and make a difference. After all, you can’t spell “revolution” without “love.” Or “vote.”
“Va, pensiero”
Nabucco (1841)
Music by Giuseppe Verdi, Libretto by Temistocle Solera
The Opera: Set during the Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem and the exile of the Jewish people to Babylon, Nabucco places personal drama within a larger conflict involving oppressed and occupying peoples, political power, and religious faith. The Babylonian king Nabucco (Nebuchadnezzar) seeks to dominate Jerusalem and its people, while the Israelites struggle to preserve their national identity and religious traditions in captivity. The work also explores the dangers of authoritarian rule as Nabucco’s ambition and claim to divine authority lead to tyranny, before his eventual collapse and conversion.Â
The Excerpt: The Hebrew captives lament their exile. Forced into captivity along the banks of the Euphrates, they remember the beauty of their homeland and grieve the freedom and identity they’ve lost. Their longing becomes a poetic invocation of their homeland, recalling its landscapes and sacred history while questioning whether they will ever see it again. The chorus calls upon the harp, once a symbol of their joyful national life, to sound again in remembrance of their suffering and lost glory. Their expression of collective grief and spiritual resistance affirms the enduring power of memory, cultural identity, and hope in the face of oppression.
The Motivation: Nabucco was the opera Verdi almost never wrote, and it proved to be the one that launched his illustrious career. His second opera had been a flop. His two infant children and his wife died within a two-year span. Distraught, he vowed never to compose again. Only a chance meeting with Bartolomeo Merelli, the impresario of Milan’s La Scala opera house, would set Verdi on a new course. Another composer had rejected Solera’s libretto for Nabucco; Merelli asked Verdi to read it and assess its potential. Verdi later recounted that upon arriving home, he hurled the libretto “on the table with an almost violent gesture. ... In falling, it had opened of itself; without my realizing it, my eyes clung to the open page and to one special line: 'Va, pensiero, sull'ali dorate.’” Bit by bit, at first reluctantly, then enthusiastically, he composed the opera, which became an instant success—the rest, as they say, is history. Like Verdi was, we’re now in a dark chapter of our history, and it’s easy to lose hope in the face of so much chaos and turmoil. Perhaps, like Verdi, we can also draw inspiration from these lines and muster up the fortitude to climb out of the abyss. Â
This chorus also holds a particularly special place in Italian cultural and political history. When Nabucco premiered in 1842, much of Italy was divided into separate states, with parts of the peninsula under Austrian rule. During the Risorgimento, the 19th-century movement for Italian independence, audiences came to identify the Hebrew captives’ plight with their own aspirations for national unity and freedom from foreign domination. The words “O mia patria, sì bella e perduta” (“O my country, so beautiful and lost”) became especially resonant as an expression of that longing, and Verdi became a key revolutionary figure in the fight for Italian sovereignty. Today, with the U.S. hurtling towards the edge of a great precipice, we too find relevance in this line as we strive to come together, help our wayward country find its footing, and live up to the beautiful ideals that are within our reach. It’s not too late if we’re willing to put in the effort.
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