The ending of “Capriccio” has often been praised; less has been said out loud about how never ending the rest of the opera is. Performed in a concert version, with little to no theatrical movement, it lasts for almost an eternity. Perhaps I am being too harsh.
Although “Capriccio” is far from a magnum opus, it is pretty clever—sometimes even too clever. A debate about music and lyrics, which progresses in dialectic fashion, is intercalated with a love affair between a composer and a poet— basically stressing an erotic dynamic between text and music, a dichotomic love affair between the effable and ineffable. Moreover, the opera embraces much of the uncanniness of its medium—the insanity of having the text shouted in the incomprehensible language of operatic singing and the resulting syncopated relationship between the musical and textual meaning.
In spite of the interest of these maneuvers, the opera often sounds a bit self-indulgent compared to Strauss’s earlier works, and overly erudite (in all its references to other operas), without a clear philosophical pay-off. I have a better time reading Wagner’s “Opera and Drama” or Nietzsche’s “Birth of Tragedy” than listening to most of “Capriccio.” Judge me.
The lack of scenic staging was also tough. Although there was some competent work in the lighting—especially in the final scene—, it became evident that much of the comedy of “Capriccio” is lost without a dramaturgical element. According.