Opernabend: “A Freudian bubble bath of the psycho-erotic”

Meagan Miller and Roger Honeywell in Die Liebe der Danae at the Bard SummerScape festival in 2011. Photo: Cory Weaver.

A little opera tip for the weekend: On Saturday at 1:00 pm Eastern time you can hear that old warhorse Carmen from the Metropolitan Opera, but if you wait an hour, until 2:00 pm, tune in to radio klassik Stephansdom’s Opernabend for a true curiosity: Richard Strauss’s Die Liebe der Danae, in a 1999 performance from the Garsington Opera.

Completed in 1940 but denied a public premiere until 1952 at the Salzburg Festival, the opera is vaguely based on the story of Danae, Midas, and Jupiter. In her review of the Garsington Opera production in The Guardian, Fiona Maddocks said, “Despite its dark undertones, [Strauss] dubbed the work a ‘light mythology,’ made Midas his benign hero and entangled him with the delicious story of Danae, whom Jupiter seduced in a shower of gold, making it all a Freudian bubble bath of the psycho-erotic.” She went on to provide this brief synopsis of the plot:

Joseph Gregor’s libretto, based on an outline by Strauss’s great collaborator Hugo von Hofmannsthal, lacks the latter’s wit or elegance, making Strauss’s transformation of the leaden plot through music all the more remarkable. The bankrupt Pollux’s daughter Danae has gone off men but remains partial to gold, about which she fantasises freely. Fortunately, Midas falls for her and she for him. Unfortunately, Jupiter does likewise, in a jealous rage turning Danae into gold and depriving Midas of his gift.

In the powerful third act, Jupiter returns as a humble old man (looking remarkably like the ageing Strauss in this production), with a reflective monologue depicting the impotence of age. Still she rejects him. With her final word, ‘Midas’, the opera ends.

Rarely performed (most recently here in America at the Bard SummerScape festival in 2011), Strauss’s score nonetheless is said to feature some of his finest music. His biographer Michael Kennedy says, “The treatment of the many themes and motifs is amazingly inventive, the orchestral colours glow and shine – with Greek gold and mediterranean sunlight … Die Liebe der Danae does not deserve its neglect. Its third act alone lifts it into the category of first-rank Strauss.” And Leon Botstein, who conducted the  SummerScape production, told The New York Times that the opera was newly relevant in an interview with Peter G. Davis: “Not only is the score a marvel of technical ingenuity and lyrical generosity, but the subject is also completely up to date. What could be more modern in these days of financial crises and deficit spending than a morality tale about Midas’s fabulous golden touch and Danae’s obsession with his riches? There’s a valuable lesson in Danae’s eventual rejection of Jupiter’s tempting offer of divinity and her willing embrace of poverty with Midas, when he loses everything and is reduced to the life of a humble donkey driver.”

The Garsington Opera recording, conducted by Elgar Howarth, features Peter Coleman-Wright as Jupiter, Adrian Thompson as Midas, and Orla Boylan as Danae. Opernabend is hosted by Eva Reinold. So drag down the Kobbé to brush up on the plot details, then tune in tomorrow, Saturday, January 17, at 2:00 pm Eastern time for that Freudian erotic bubble-bath.

Towels, anyone?

Letters from Durham

The latest issue — #47 — of what Drew Friedman calls “by far the best magazine being published on planet Earth” is arriving in mailboxes now. Mineshaft 47 is as always chock-full of visual and literary work that would be cutting-edge if you could locate the edge; as it is, the Mineshaft world is a world in itself. This issue features R. Crumb’s debate with Chat GPT about vaccines, great new comics from the fine Simone Baumann and Christoph Mueller (who also designed the striking cover image), two new portraits by Mr. Friedman, photography by John Haynes, and contributions from the likes of Bill Griffith, Robert Armstrong, and Sophie Crumb. “It’s such a gift to see new work by the giants of my generation (Fleener, Collier, Head, Friedman, etc.) alongside our heroic forebears (Crumb, Aline, Armstrong, Griffy, Deitch) and heirs (Harkham, Van Sciver, etc.) alike,” Daniel Clowes says. “I don’t take it for granted — one of a dwindling number of good things in this world.”

You shouldn’t take it for granted, either. You can purchase this issue directly from Mineshaft or, better still, start a subscription. Who doesn’t want good things in their world?

Self-help with Arthur Schopenhauer

The Sage of Frankfurt-am-Main: Arthur Schopenhauer.

A quick glance over the philosophy section of the local bookstore will reveal the prominence of books about stoicism. This is, I think, a sign of the times; volumes like The Daily Stoic: 366 Meditations on Wisdom, Perseverance, and the Art of Living and Lessons in Stoicism: What Ancient Philosophers Teach Us about How to Live cherrypick Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, and Epictetus for nuggets of wisdom that will somehow make us all more “resilient,” that awful word that’s become a 2026 catchphrase, like “boots on the ground.” On the flip side of all the positive qualities associated with the word is a certain emotional coldness to the slings and arrows of the world that dissuades us from acting on the desire to change it. “Life sucks, get a helmet,” stoicism distilled into a nutshell, is one of the more cynical approaches to experience, whether it’s from the stoics or anyone else.

“There is a popular style of philosophical biography that presents the philosopher’s life as a model for how to live well,” writes David Bather Woods on the first page of his biography Arthur Schopenhauer: The Life and Thought of Philosophy’s Greatest Pessimist, out just a few months ago from the University of Chicago Press, citing Sarah Bakewell’s 2011 life of Montaigne. “Introducing Schopenhauer to this genre faces a major obstacle, and not just because of his many personal flaws.” What Bather Woods does not mention here, in the first chapter of his very fine biography of the Sage of Frankfurt-am-Main, is that Schopenhauer’s already written his own self-help book, Aphorisms on the Wisdom of Life, which appears in the first volume of Parerga and Paralipomena.

This is not that. It’s fair to be leery of the biographical approach to any writer, and kudos to Bather Woods for admitting it. He has produced a swiftly and gracefully readable book about Schopenhauer which doesn’t stint on explication (though because Schopenhauer wrote for a general public rather than an academic audience there are fewer knotty interpretive problems than you might expect). Divided into ten chapters, the book focuses on the philosopher’s life, then the issues that arise from it: his father’s early death introduces a discussion of Schopenhauer’s attitudes towards suicide; his early travels in Europe provide a ground for explicating Schopenhauer’s approach to madness and punishment; his often misogynistic conception of women is clarified through a survey of Schopenhauer’s relationship with his sister and mother; and the last chapter, of course, focuses on death, from both the biographical and metaphysical stances. I should note here that Bather Woods is especially good on Fichte’s influence on Schopenhauer, and that a chapter on Schopenhauer and photographic portraiture is a new contribution to a consideration of Schopenhauer’s thinking on aesthetics. (I admit I was a little disappointed that Bather Woods gives Schopenhauer’s aesthetic theory short shrift, but this is a quibble; certainly that ground has been covered quite comprehensively in the past; aesthetic experience, and especially music, is where the Veil of Maya may be at its thinnest, though, and I would have liked to see Bather Woods’s two cents on this issue.)

Schopenhauer rarely wrote about his personal life, leaving any biographer somewhat at a loss. Also new in this book, though, is Bather Woods’s adept and insightful use of a trove of letters written by the philosopher’s sister Adele. Here we have a few tantalizing hints, too, of Schopenhauer as lover and as father (he sired two daughters who died in infancy).

What differentiates Schopenhauer from the Stoics is that the Stoics counselled an active participation in political and social activities of the day, anathema to a man like Schopenhauer who believed the solution of the world’s most important problems did not inhere in political or cultural action. Schopenhauer instead counselled, ideally, ascetic resignation, but he knew it was impossible for most men and women to achieve that resignation; next best, as Bather Woods concludes, was compassion for the suffering of one’s fellow men and women and the alleviation of their pain. I doubt that Schopenhauer would have considered this a definition of hope, since the conflict of will and world is violent, dark, and eternal. The highest form of self-help is helping others: this doesn’t call for resilience, which is aimed inward. It is a sort of love, Bather Woods muses. He’ll get no argument from me. I’ll raise a glass to him and the Sage of Frankfurt-am-Main at the Cafe Schopenhauer in March.