One thing I noticed from reading plays written before the last 300 years is that they often do not reflect modern life. Characters would speak in convoluted, cryptic ways and be overly determined in what I consider trivial matters. When going about making decisions, they’re usually too indecisive, such as in Oedipus Rex, or too rash and violent, such as in Othello. Elektra is no less a play like that, but Boston Symphony Orchestra’s production of the opera version by Richard Strauss has made me feel a personal connection to one of the characters.
While many people highly praised Christine Goerke’s role as Elektra, I particularly enjoyed Gun-Brit Barkmin’s portrayal of Chrysothemis. To me, she was a dynamic character in this play. Her account of how she wanted a normal life, marry at the right age and have kids made me feel bad for her. When she was describing the life she could’ve had, she spun around and looked up at the audience with a look of pure bliss on her face. When Elektra rejected Chrysothemis’s pleas to run away with her, Chrysothemis cursed Elektra, violently shook her away and ran away. It hit me then that Chrysothemis was losing her only hope to the life she wanted; it made me wish that Elektra would’ve changed her mind about revenge although she did make a pretty compelling justification for it. Later, when Orestes has already killed Klytaemnestra, Chrysothemis’s attitude was somewhat changed. She no longer wanted to leave the house or held a grudge against Elektra. She seemed genuinely concerned when Elektra started dancing. Yes, in a way it does make Chrysothemis a pathetic character, but also a three-dimensional one. It is very hard for most people to relate to Elektra but somewhat easier to relate to Chrysothemis.
The music for the opera was bone-chilling. Other than the dramatic opening, I noticed some anxiety-inducing sounds that I wasn’t able to tell which instruments they came from. There were many sharp sounds including that of the glockenspiel, Elektra’s shrieking and Klytaemnestra’s laughter when she thought Orestes was dead. Overall, the music was not very pleasant to the ear. I would not deny that there is some kind of beauty in it. What I found most beautiful was the moments that lead up to Elektra dying. To my surprise she did not end up lying on the floor but rather sat on a chair; it was more peaceful than I had imagined. Everything in the moments leading up to the death was chaotic, the music, movements and speech all suggested that doom was near. That particular moment reminded me of the death of the swan queen in Black Swan, only that Elektra did not die with some kind of epiphany. Elektra’s manic dancing resembled Klytaemnestra’s shrilling laughter earlier in the play. I wonder if this kind of similarity suggested that they both deserved to die for what they had done.
I would describe the performance of Elektra at Carnegie Hall to be a very intense experience. I have been exposed to operas since a young age and studied them musically, but this is the first time I paid close attention to the storyline and how music enhances it. I would definitely go to another production of Elektra.
