Glitter and be Gay: A Modern Mad Scene

In Leonard Bernstein's work Candide, he used many different styles of music in order to convey the satirical nature of Voltaire's play, on which the work is based. For example, as Ms. Leonard suggested, the twelve-tone row on which the theme of the kings is based, is used to poke fun at the (outdated) musical tradition of serialism.

We have all heard Cunegonde's aria "Glitter and be Gay" ad nauseum, so it wasn't until this week, when we were discussing the deeper layer of meaning in the work, that I realized that the melodrama portrayed in the aria is a satirical tool. On a political level, the aria (and the character of Cunegonde herself) can be seen as a criticism of American institution of Capitalism (and the evils of it). However, on a musical level, the aria is, in effect, a nod to the many Bel Canto mad scenes written by composers such as Gaetano Donizetti and Vincenzo Bellini. There are a few aspects of the aria that suggest this connection:

1. The first thing we hear in "Glitter and be Gay" is a mournful trill by a solo woodwind. The use of such an obligato instrument can be seen throughout the Bel Canto genre. For instance, the use of the flute (originally the glass harmonica....if you want to hear something really creepy, go listen to this!) in Lucia's mad scene in Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor sheds light on the state of mind of the character, while, at other times, acting as the other voice(s) in her head. The obligato instrument becomes, in effect, a scene partner for the devastated soprano, often engaging in musical "dialogue". One can hear this parodied by Bernstein in the last section of coloratura in "Glitter and be Gay" where the solo woodwind again precedes the soprano, offering a phrase of her original allegro melody, which the soprano echoes with a variation (You can hear this at 5:49 on the clip below).
2. Secondly, Bernstein portrays Cunegonde's character musically at two emotional extremes: devastated and ecstatic. First, we hear the woodwind dialoguing with the soprano over woeful, extended chromatic lines in the strings. Then at "And yet, of course, I rather like to revel...", the brass enters and suddenly the mood shifts to the other extreme entirely without so much as a measure of transition. This stark shift in mood shed's light on Cunegonde's unstable mental state perfectly. This is further underlined by the clever use of the constrast in timbres. They highlight Cunegonde's assertion that instead of being "basely tearful" (Listen for the woodwinds at 2:44), she will be "bright and cheerful" (listen for the change in timbre after those words: 2:50). Her descent from a high pitched frenzy back down to the original mood of the piece (and into an orchestra interlude that is punctuated by Cunegonde's melodramatic speech) brings home this point all the more. If done effectively, by the end of this piece, I think the audience should feel slightly bipolar.
   
3. Furthermore, Cunegonde's unstable mental state is described by both the driving tempo of the coloratura sections and the hysterical nature (both in the funny sense and the true sense of the word) of the coloratura itself. Especially in the final section where the vocal line comes unglued from the rhythmic assertions of the orchestra (around 5:35), one starts to see Cunegonde's facade fall apart.
4. Another way in which Bernstein pokes fun at the Bel Canto traditions is found in the tongue-in-cheek nature of the entire piece. We are supposed to believe that Cunegonde is bemoaning her fate as a bird kept in a "gilded cage"; however, it appears that she is more than a little satisfied with the perks of that position ("I'll take their diamond necklace!"). In a mad scene such as the ones in Anna Bolena or Lucia di Lammermoor, it is the moments when the characters come back to reality that are the most heart wrenching (Thank you Ms. Thomas!). However, in "Glitter and be Gay", it is debatable whether the tonally minor sections (that section of melodramatic speech doesn't even have the added heightening of pitch...) are Cunegonde's reality and the frantic major sections are her madness, or vice versa. Within that facade and ambiguity lies the satire.

In closing, I offer this: