Discover Top Posts Tagged with #niklausse

because I think of it altogether too much, some dialogue on the differences in the role of the Muse in Les contes d’Hoffmann, in the play versus in the opera. Enjoy my nerdy, disorganized, former-literature-major ramblings as I spend altogether too much time picking apart the minutia of this issue (but hey, it’s in my URL, so).

In the original play by Michael Carré and Jules Barbier (the same people who wrote the libretto for the opera), the Muse doesn’t double as Niklausse. We get two separate characters–the Muse and Hoffmann’s sidekick, Friédrick.

The play opens with a monologue from the Muse, similar to the one in the opera (some lines are taken verbatim). The monologue in the play, though, isn’t about the Muse being mad at Stella and wanting to win Hoffman’s love. It is in a lot of ways a love letter to the real Hoffmann’s writing, of which Carré was a huge fan (obviously, he wrote a whole play about them). The works of E.T. A. Hoffmann were (and to an extent, still are) hailed as being unique, strange, and otherworldy compared to most of what was seen at the time. The Muse here talks about her stories as if they’re her own, and she happens upon Hoffmann in the tavern (read: when he gets drunk, he gets inspired to write weird stuff). She’s here, then, to introduce this story–the play that we’re watching/reading–as one of her own. She does reappear at the end and makes a statement similar to that made at the conclusion of the opera, that the poet had to suffer to be truly great and now that he’s given up on love she has him to herself–but it’s not that she specifically tried to make this happen, she’s just pleased that it did.

After the Muse’s opening monologue, she tells the audience that the people are coming and she’s going to hide, because they scare her. She puts on a suit and hat similar to that warn by the students that will soon be populating the tavern, so she can blend in with them and not be noticed. I’m guessing this is where the inspiration for the Muse also being Niklausse eventually (partially) comes from.

But we don’t have Niklausse in the play; we get Friédrick. Friédrick is, in my perception, ridiculously adorable. He spends a good portion of the play serving sass. There’s a ton of banter between him and Hoffmann, and some with Friédrick and the side characters as well as they collectively role their eyes at Hoffmann. So, much similarity to Niklausse. A few differences, though: the guys in the tavern love making fun of him, because he’s younger, and Hoffmann is even a little bit meaner to him than their operatic counterparts, and Friédrick is just kind of resigned to it, though he does make fun of Hoffmann at times. Mostly he feels sorry for him and feels the need to take care of him, as he can’t seem to take care of himself.

Friédrick is referred to as Hoffmann’ “shadow,” in that he follows him around everywhere making sure he doesn’t get himself arrested or shanked. He is also referred to by Hoffmann as “the voice of reason” through all his adventures, though of course Friédrick doesn’t remember any of them, since they didn’t actually happen. But he is constantly dragging Hoffmann out of trouble in these stories, which is why Dappertutto tries to off him in the Giulietta act. Dappertutto is annoyed that Friédrick first rescues Hoffmann from Olympia when she goes crazy (which is a big part of the play, and written into the libretto, but rarely ever portrayed on stage for the opera), then saves him from Crespel when Crespel tries to get Hoffmann for (as he perceives) killing Antonia (another bit that’s in the libretto but rarely portrayed onstage) and, finally, is trying to literally drag him away from Giulietta. As with Niklausse, Hoffmann severely under-appreciates Friédrick and all that his friend does for him. But when Dappertutto tries to give him a “sleeping potion” that he says will just make him pass out long enough for Hoffmann to get it on with Giulietta, Hoffmann kind of gets a reality check when he’s like “Wait, okay, but what if he drinks it and then he dies?” Dappertutto insists that no such thing is even remotely possible. I do wonder where Hoffmann’s sudden suspicion and consideration comes from. Like, is he already suspicious of Dappertutto, or is he just concerned because Friédrick is so small a single dose of Nyquil could end him? (Being a lightweight myself, I do wonder.) But we never find out either way, because Giulietta waltzes onstage and downs the poison first and of course Friédrick arrives just in time to save Hoffmann yet again. I just gotta wonder: given Friédrick is not the Muse in this version, why is it that he’s the one who drags Hoffmann out of trouble over and over again in a series of stories that didn’t actually happen? As constantly annoyed as he seems at Friédrick, he’s the one making the choice to have him play that role. And Friédrick is pretty cool with it. I guess they were roommates.

The Muse’s role, then, comes with a different vibe. She doesn’t have any influence over Hoffmann’s love life or seem quite as imminently concerned about it. She’s not following him around in the same way; she kind of just has to wait for him to come around. She’s less assertive and pretty resigned to having to deal with the constant BS but at the same time seems less bothered by it. She’s not totally dependent on him or solely invested in him; she just likes him a lot and enjoys writing stories with him. The operatic Muse is much more definitively attached to Hoffmann and sees his love life as a direct opposition to them. The stakes are higher for them than for the Muse in the play.

The whole Muse/Niklausse dynamic on the opera fascinates me to no end. I can’t even quite put into words the thoughts I have about it. Lately when I think about the question “If you could go back in time and talk to anyone in history who would it be?” I just want to go and talk to Barbier and Carré and ask how they came to the decision to make Niklauuse and the Muse the same character because–is there really anything in literature that’s quite the same as that? We get “a madwoman, come down from the heavens, to fight with a frivolous woman over the love of a fool” (a line from the libretto) who transforms themself into their poet’s best friend, and deals with his BS which is (as I rambled on a bit in an earlier post) borderline emotional abuse in some cases and even in its mildest forms raises the question “Why, sweetie, why do you put up with this.” Well, they can’t not, can they? What’s a Muse supposed to do? They’ve got their poet and have no other purpose in life that to serve as their inspiration. What would they do if Hoffmann did actually choose Stella over them? It’s basically out of the question.

So looking then at the Muse/Friédrick dynamic was an interesting transition. I can start to see some of the pieces but in some ways it also raises more questions. Was Niklausse ever an actual person, like Friédrick? Is the Muse donning the disguise for just that one night, to be witness to the storytelling, as the Muse in the play does? Does the operatic Muse just figure that Hoffmann will be drunk enough to not notice the difference when the real Niklausse comes back later? Or was Niklausse the Muse all along, and the Muse has for years (or however long) personified themself as another student to try and win Hoffmann on his level? Further, is it Hoffmann who comes up with all the little things that Niklausse does that hints to us what his status actually is, showing that Hoffmann is subconsciously aware of the connection all along? Or is it the Muse infiltrating the storytelling as it occurs to insert themself further, trying to get Hoffmann to really see them during the course of the telling?

On one hand I go crazy over the fact that these questions are never answered, and I wonder why the librettists went from the relatively straightforward Muse/Friédrick dynamic to the super meta, almost incomprehensible Muse/Niklausse dynamic. On the other hand, I appreciate the weird genius behind this that makes me think unreasonably hard about the creative process and art in general and also the relationships we have with people in our lives who we depend on in ways such as this. Also, I appreciate how the ambiguity allows different productions of the opera to have so many interpretations of the role (although there are definitely some interpretations that can go to hell as far as I’m concerned).

Also I think a lot about the names. I think Friédrick is just a cute name and I think it suits the original character. And the transition to Niklausse makes sense: a new interpretation of the character warrants a new name–plus Niklausse comes from “Nicholas” which means “victorious people” which makes sense, you know? Niklausse triumphs in the end, so why not have a powerful name like that? If I were a Muse taking on a human form on earth, I’d want something with that kind of power, too.

#niklausse

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#niklausse