I was disappointed by Puccini’s treatment of “Tosca” at first, feeling that he had stripped away all of the interesting bits of Sardou’s original play. The politics of post-Bonaparte Europe were lost to unbridled passion that seemed stupid in its ferocity. Not one character seemed to think before they acted, least of all the titular heroine. Yet, as we sat in the Metropolitan Opera House watching the cantanti d’opera I was struck by what I’m going to call an epiphany. With “Tosca”, Puccini sheds Sardou’s Restoration politics so that he can better explore the Italian character. It’s a mistake to analyze the characters on their own. When you don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, the opera is unsatisfying, populated by shallow, one-dimensional characters. But when you stitch together Floria’s boundless love, Cavaradossi’s loyalty, and Scarpia’s unbridled passion, you have a true Italian. Floria’s character holds the most for one hoping to understand the smiling enigmas that populate Italy. The cantanta bella loves Cavaradossi wholeheartedly but is convinced that another woman’s fair eyes will steal him away. Floria’s behavior seems pathetic and shameful to modern American audiences. Women in the United States, especially in urban areas like New York, would not throw themselves at a man like that. The favored approach is more subtle  and so called intellectual. Yet, before you scoff at Tosca, you need to have an understanding of the Italian character and women’s roles in Italy. Italians commit much more earnestly to relationships than we do here. Because the country on a whole provides much less opportunities for its inhabitants, Italians rarely bother with politics and the like and instead throw themselves passionately into romantic relationships. Women are often the more desperate, simply because the few opportunities available are seen as men’s. In the end, the Italian woman’s primary responsibility is to be a wife or a lover. She lives in constant fear of becoming a cornuta, abandoned by her husband’s roving eye.  Unfortunately, this system is well-ingrained in the Italian tradition. I hesitate to call Puccini an advocate for women’s rights but it is interesting that so much time in the opera is spent watching Floria be abused by men. Scarpia looms as the greater evil, making it blatantly clear he wants to rape Tosca, but Cavaradossi is no real hero. He treats Floria like a child. Though it seems she may deserve this treatment given her behavior, you have to ask yourself why a man who tuts at her silliness so often keeps her around.

I was also struck by what a testament to the Italian language the opera was. I read the English transcript for the first act and was unimpressed. There was a flowery quality to the translation that made the already overly-dramatic scene almost unbearable. When I switched to the Italian for the second and third acts though, Puccini’s words emerged beautifully. He wrote quite simply and his lyrics were strewn with repeated phrases and words. While usually grating in English, the repetition lent something really wonderful to the Italian. It made the characters’ emotions heartbreaking, as the simplicity spoke to a profound grief and depth of feeling that I didn’t expect to find woven into this opera.