Opera's Late Romantic Era: 1865-1920
“The power of myth”

Opera's Late Romantic Era

“The power of myth”

1865-1920: Van Gogh gets a wave of inspiration from Hokusai, the Ottoman Empire fades out of view, Andrew Carnegie forges a fortune out of steel, and opera passes a point of no return.

Uncover the driving forces behind opera’s fiercest era, including Europe’s semi-unhealthy obsession with death, desire, and nationalist identity—all of which sparked a wild streak of artistic innovation and some truly iconic music for the stage.

Recommended for Grades 6-12

In this resource, you’ll:

  • Discover how cultural tastes and traditions further divided opera along national lines. 
  • Meet two game-changing composers who flipped the operatic script.  
  • Travel to some of opera’s late Romantic strongholds, including Russia and Czechoslovakia.
  • Listen to some of opera’s most enduringly popular tunes.

Phew.

How’re we doing, operagoers? Did you survive the early Romantic era okay? Minds still intact? Bodies properly hydrated? Tissues still handy?

Excellent.

Because, as emotionally draining as those early Romantic operas can be, they kinda pale in comparison to the operas that phased out the 19th century and helped launch us into the 20th century.

Welcome to the late Romantic era, where pain is even more excruciating, happiness is even more ecstatic, passions run even deeper, and the old rules of music no longer apply.

We’re through the looking glass now, folks. No safety net and no turning back.

Good luck. And may the opera odds be ever in your favor.

Video

Video

Opera Gets Extra Patriotic

The story of late Romantic opera is the story of… wait for it… story.

And we’re not talking Cinderella-loses-a-slipper or Hansel-and-Gretel-get-lost-in-the-woods type stories.* We’re talking no-holds-barred, rip-your-heart-out, make-you-rethink-the-way-you’ve-been-living-your-life stories full of blood, sweat, tears, brutal warfare, abject poverty, backstabbing betrayal, international espionage, forbidden romance, tragic sacrifice… basically all of humanity in its rawest, ugliest, and most bittersweet form.

Like their early Romantic colleagues, late Romantic composers and librettists sometimes fleshed out their tales using intricate details that made the stories seem even more real and relatable. These details came from a number of inspirational sources, but a significant portion of them were born out of national pride.

* All right, that’s technically a lie. Cinderella and Hansel and Gretel do actually make an appearance in late Romantic opera. But, in our defense, they’re not portrayed like they’re not portrayed the same way they would be in your average ‘Once Upon a Time’ anthology. Instead, these and other late Romantic fairy tales tend to be much more psychologically layered, often forcing their characters into situations of high-stakes physical and emotional risk. (So… not ideal for bedtime.)

 

As territories like those in Italy, Germany, and Bohemia (Czechoslovakia) started forming sovereign governments of their own (see Welcome to the revolution under the Early Romantic Era), national identities intensified. Suddenly, more and more opera creators were interested in putting local lore, patriotic myth, historic folk tunes, and/or well-known works of native literature onto the big stage, all so their home countries could be part of the larger cultural dialogue.

But while each of these territories had unique stories to tell, they also had unique ways of telling them. And this brings us to yet another crossroads question in the history of opera (sort of like the one we encountered with our guys Gluck and Mozart):

What’s the best way to tell a musical story?

Again, full disclosure: There’s no right or wrong answer here. But much of late Romantic opera is about composers squabbling with each other over the purest, most impactful method of telling  a story through song. And two of the most (in)famous composers who found themselves on opposing sides of this colossal debate were Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)—already an opera legend by the 1840s—and Richard Wagner (1813-1883).

Allow us to introduce you to them…

Viva Verdi!

Verdi is one of those names that makes opera fans stop what they’re doing and say: “Respect.” (And if they don’t say it, they’re definitely thinking it.)

verdi-giuseppi-169.jpgGiuseppi Verdi

Take a look at any current opera season in any major opera house around the world, and you’re guaranteed to find at least one Verdi opera on the schedule (but probably more). The reasons for this are too numerous and detailed to cover here, but these are our picks for the top three:

  1. Verdi wasn’t just a composer, he was an icon. Through a combination of talent, luck, political conviction, and historical accident, his music became a rallying cry for an Italian independence movement known as the Risorgimento or “Resurrection.” His name even became a nationalist code word, as the initials V, E, R, D, and I were a not-so-secret acronym that spelled out undying support for Risorgimento leader Vittorio Emanuele II.*
  2. Verdi understood that differences in vocal volume, color, strength, and agility could represent different facets of human nature, and he assigned his singing roles accordingly. Verdi vocalists don’t just sing about emotions, they actually sound like whatever it is they’re feeling. As a result, his characters—and their dramatic dilemmas—are extremely hard to forget
  3. He had an eye (and an ear) for great stories.

 

*The full code was “Vittorio Emanuele II, rei d’Italia” or “Vittorio Emanuele II, king of Italy.” Resurrectionists would reportedly shout, “Viva Verdi!” in solidarity with Italian independence, giving both Vittorio Emanuele II and Giuseppe Verdi a steady stream of national publicity.

Verdi was a consummate dramatist. Now, to be fair, his operas were often based on tales by heavy literary hitters like Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas fils, and William Shakespeare… so it’s not like he didn’t have a lot to work with. But miraculously, Verdi was somehow able to zoom in on moments that packed the biggest dramatic punch, distill them down to their most basic (and most powerful) fundamentals, and then unleash them on his audience through a carefully calibrated balance of voice and instrumentals.

Verdi also instinctively knew human relationships were what made dramas tick. His singers were his stars, meaning their voices were the primary colors of his musical paint. Even today, singers looooooooooove Verdi because his music gives them a chance to sink their voice (and their teeth) into a character. 

Though don’t get us wrong: Verdi was likewise a maestro of the special musical effect. His orchestral scores were designed to supply listeners with essential dramatic elements like atmosphere (think swirling strings for an oncoming storm), pacing (think rhythmic brass as an army prepares for war), and commentary (think an Act I love theme that replays when the lovers say goodbye in Act III). In fact, in Verdi operas, voice and orchestra became such perfect theatrical partners that traditional expositional devices like recitative began to fade away, leaving singers and instrumentalists to devote all their energies toward telling the story. Together. Without stopping (except for the occasional intermission).

Shirley Verrett sings Verdi’s “O Don Fatale,” 1971.

Listen: Viva V.E.R.D.I.
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Giuseppe Verdi.

Wrestling with Richard

But what if operas had no obvious “stars”?

What if every single thing about an opera—from the singers, to the orchestra, to the lighting guy—was just as important as the next? And what if the whole production had only one job and that job was just… story

These were the kinds of rhetorical questions posed by our next contestant: Richard Wagner.  

wagner-richard-2-169.jpgRichard Wagner

Okay. Deep breaths, kids. This guy is… a lot.

Wagner is a tricky subject and an even trickier man. By all accounts, he was a cruel and bigoted egomaniac who publicly voiced his anti-Semitic opinions in print and was known to trash the work of other composers without a second thought. In addition, his music was a documented inspiration for some of the ideas behind the Nazi Party decades later, which means his operas will always be associated with a terrible legacy, no matter how beautiful or artistically valuable his scores might be.  

However (and that feels really strange to say about such a deeply problematic figure): Wagner’s music made a lot of noise. In every sense. His operas—sometimes deafeningly loud and often audaciously epic in scope—were crafted to capture audience attention and never let go. His harmonies rewrote the musical playbook by twisting familiar chords into unrecognizable clusters of prismatic sound. And his take on storytelling forever redefined what opera could mean.

You see, Wagner was obsessed with the notion that true opera should bind together music, story, poetry, dance, sets, lighting, costume, and stage effects to create a transcendent, otherworldly experience for operagoers. The kind of experience where you don’t know exactly where your real life ends and the fictional story begins. The kind where you’re so engrossed in the characters, the drama, and the all-consuming “wow” factor of it all, you forget to check your phone. 

Or forget you even have a phone. 

Wagner called this Avengers-assemble style of collaborative opera Gesamtkunstwerk (roughly, “total artwork”), and he made it his mission to realize his theory on the German stage.

The main features of Gesamtkunstwerk were:

  • Everyone and everything involved in the opera had one sole purpose: to serve the story. No single aspect took precedence unless the drama called for it. (Read: Singers couldn’t show off at the expense of the narrative. The vocalists and the orchestra were of equal importance, though sometimes a lyric, a costume piece, or even a prop could command the spotlight, depending on the situation.)
  • Standout characters, objects, emotions, locations, and events were given their own musical themes, known as leitmotifs (“lead motifs”). These themes would play whenever the corresponding person, place, or thing first appeared, and would then repeat when the subject reappeared or was mentioned again over the course of the action (or whenever Wagner wanted to call it to mind). 
  • Music unfolded without interruption. No arias. No recitative. No highlight-album-worthy ensembles. Every musical moment flowed into the next so as not to break the dramatic spell.
  • Stories were mostly derived from pre-existing myths, perhaps because their symbolic characters—typically gods and goddesses or kings and queens—were, by nature, less specific and more universal; they often represented an idea more than they did a fully-fledged individual. This made it easier for Wagner to deliver pure, unadulterated dramatic truths that could be identified by absolutely anyone in the audience.
Metropolitan Opera Orchestra – Wagner: Ride of the Valkyries.

Listen: Richard Wagner: Sonic Explorations
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Richard Wagner.

Getting at the Truth

As obsessive as Wagner was in his pursuit of universal truth, realistic opera actually reached its peak with a late Romantic Italian style that was literally named after truth. 

We’re not kidding. 

As music closed the doors on the 19th century and segued into the 20th century, many Italian composers experimented with vibrant, slice-of-life musical dramas that amplified characters from a range of backgrounds (not just from the upper classes or from the annals of history). Collectively, these works were known as verismo operas, from the Italian word for “realism” or—points if you saw this one coming—“truth.” 

The heroes and heroines of verismo were often “common” folk such as artists, innkeepers, soldiers, clerics, or traveling musicians, and their stories were just as viscerally moving as any tale of royal intrigue or supernatural adventure (perhaps even more so). These verismo characters made themselves heard using clear, conversational melodies that mimicked normal speech patterns, and their emotions were almost always profoundly stirring and a touch extreme: Fierce before fierce was considered cool.

Where Wagner tried to make opera an out-of-body experience that lifted audiences to unprecedented heights of human understanding, verismo composers like Ruggero Leoncavallo (1857-1919) and Pietro Mascagni (1863-1945) brought opera back down to earth with a thundering crash, reminding listeners we don’t need mythic gods and goddesses to help us uncover new, authentic ways of looking at the world. 

Important Operas of the Late Romantic Era

Tristan und Isolde
(Tristan and Isolde)

1865, RICHARD WAGNER

tristan-und-isolde-169.jpgWagner’s Tristan und Isolde at the Semperoper Dresden.

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What you should know...

We’re going to level with you: If you want to get to know Romantic opera, you need to get to know Tristan und Isolde, Wagner’s game-changing, genre-defying love story set in pre-medieval Cornwall.

Cherry-picked from a tapestry of mythical and literary sources, Tristan is a tale of tragic romance that makes Romeo and Juliet look like You’ve Got Mail. (Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration… but only by a little bit.)

From the very first chords of its remarkably unsettling yet shatteringly beautiful prelude, Tristan und Isolde sounded an alarm that reverberated across all future generations of Western music, altering the course of musical storytelling and harmonic composition forever.

With its unapologetically dissonant score and its morally questionable tale of a love so strong it’s literally poisonous, Tristan is an experience designed to engage almost all the senses: a newer, more intoxicating breed of Romantic art. And then there’s the fact it’s through-composed (sung and played from beginning to end without any obvious repetition or specific, segmented sections), a concept that was very edgy at the time.

All this sensory overload and artistic innovation make Tristan und Isolde a massive flashpoint in the history of opera. But, hey, we get it: Wagner was a problematic composer… to put it mildly. And, as we’ve mentioned before, it’s tough to reconcile the man with his art. 

Yet uncomfortable as it is, it’s impossible to deny Tristan und Isolde when reckoning with late Romantic opera. Leaving it out of the discussion would be like trying to talk about U.S. history without mentioning the Civil War. Feel free to take the opera or leave it (though we maintain at least one listen is probably worth it); we just felt you needed to know it exists.

What makes Tristan und Isolde so special? Stuart Skelton, the world’s greatest Wagnerian, tells us his favorite moments of this great opera.


Listen: Tristan and Isolde
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Wagner’s epic love story.


Aïda

1871, GIUSEPPE VERDI

aida-169.jpgGrace Bumbry in Verdi’s Aïda, Erich Auerbach/Hulton Archive/Getty Images.

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What you should know...

It hurts us that we only have time for one Verdi opera because, frankly, most of them qualify as stone-cold masterpieces. But we’re awarding this slot to Aïda for two reasons:

  1. Opera lovers refer to it as the “A” in the “ABCs” of opera, and…
  2. It marks the beginning of Verdi’s “late” period, making it a prime example of opera’s late Romantic era.

First unveiled in Cairo for the opening of the Suez Canal, Aïda traces the story of an enslaved Ethiopian princess* caught between love of country and love of an enemy soldier.

A spectacle to end all spectacles, the opera sometimes features actual circus animals (!) and includes a ballet, a marching army, and some headbanging hymns to the gods of Ancient Egypt.

Beyond the eye-popping extravaganza of it all, though, there’s an intimate human story surrounding just four main characters, each driven by a misguided love. Their heightened emotions inspire musical themes that return again and again throughout the evening, making every scene feel as if it’s part of a cohesive whole.

*A few notes to keep in mind: Like many operas of this period (and before), Aïda includes some undeniable elements of exoticism: a long-standing Western practice (particularly popular in Verdi’s day) of romanticizing “unfamiliar” cultures, appropriating them, and then refracting them through a Eurocentric lens. 

Also, in the century and a half since Aïda’s premiere, this problem has only been further complicated by the use of blackface makeup for white singers cast as the story’s Egyptian and Ethiopian characters, often as a result of the systemic exclusion of Black performers. 

Verdi’s “Triumphal March” from Aïda


Listen: Aïda
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Verdi’s historical drama.


La Bohème
(The Bohemians)

1895, GIACOMO PUCCINI

la-boheme-169.jpgLa Bohème (Curtis Brown/Metropolitan Opera).

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What you should know...

All right, Rent heads, this is your moment to shine. This work—famously updated by Jonathan Larson for Broadway’s Rent––is the unofficial “B” of the “ABCs” of opera and ranks among the most performed (and most beloved) in the entire genre.

A two-tissue opera at least, La Bohème chronicles the lives and loves of six seemingly carefree Parisians who scrape by on very little, sustaining themselves on art, beauty, friendship, and not much else.

Until they can’t anymore. 

Eventually, harsh reality comes knocking at their door, and disease, poverty, and disillusion threaten to destroy their Bohemian lifestyle forever.

Rife with achingly romantic melodies and playing out amid the bustling streets of mid-19th-century France, Bohème surrounds audiences with a story of lower-class artists carving out existence in an unforgiving world. An honorary verismo opera, La Bohème celebrates the joyous highs and devastating lows of everyday living, forcing you to experience all its comedy, romance, and tragedy right alongside the immortal characters.

Where you’ve heard it: You’ll hear snippets of Puccini’s original in Larson’s Rent, and parts of the 1896 score are sneakily referenced in the soundtrack to the Oscar-winning 1987 film Moonstruck

Rodolfo’s Act I aria from Puccini’s La Bohème. Ramón Vargas (Rodolfo), Angela Gheorghiu (Mimì).


Listen: La Bohème
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Puccini’s passionate melodrama.


Carmen

1875, GEORGES BIZET

carmen-168.jpgWashington National Opera’s Carmen. Photo by Scott Suchman.

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What you should know...

Historically, when a woman tries to control her own destiny, it doesn’t end well. The tragic tale of Carmen is no exception, but at least there’s dancing, bullfighting, and some killer melodies to distract you along the way.

Rounding out the “ABCs” of opera is this classic by Georges Bizet, brought to you by the French grand opéra tradition (though it originally had a dash of opéra comique in it as well).

Rhythmically hypnotic and outrageously tuneful from the word go, Carmen gets our vote for opera’s most earworm-able entry. (If you claim you haven’t had at least one of Carmen’s arias stuck in your head at some point, you’re lying.)

Really, though: Carmen’s violent love story—set in the mountains of Spain—delivers hit after hit, many of which were inspired by actual Latin dances brimming with syncopated rhythms and giving off a passionately defiant and seductive energy. Much like the title character herself.

Where you’ve heard it: Where haven’t you? Callbacks to Carmen include the movies Up, The Bad News Bears, and Carmen Jones (which follows Carmen’s actual story but transports the action to 20th-century America), as well as countless TV sketches and commercials

Habañera from Bizet’s Carmen (Anna Caterina Antonacci, The Royal Opera).


Listen: Carmen
Presented by Washington National Opera, host Saul Lilienstein
takes you through the musical world of Bizet’s fiery tragedy.

Opera Around the World

Germany

Germany—or Germany as we now know it—is up first here, but only because Richard Wagner dominated so much of the conversation during the late Romantic era. Love him or hate him, composers of all backgrounds and nationalities were obliged to have an opinion on Wagner. And they also had to decide whether to follow in his footsteps or take an entirely different musical path.

By breaking away from Italian traditions such as standalone arias, hummable melodies, and a supreme devotion to the human voice, Wagner helped create an operatic aesthetic that read as 100% German: a style where the singer was just another instrument in a vast and powerful orchestra, dramatic scenes blended effortlessly without interruption, and beautiful tunes were only there to move the story along… if they were there at all. 

It wasn’t to everyone’s taste, but it certainly got everyone talking.

That’s not to say Wagner was some sort of musical anomaly that came out of nowhere. He was definitely a product of his time and a direct descendant of the (mostly German) composers who came before him, including Weber and Beethoven. And much like Weber, Wagner actively worked to elevate his culture by writing operas rooted in Germanic myth—an attempt to deepen nationalistic fervor and strengthen Germany’s position in the musical canon.

Yet no German composer has achieved quite the same unforgettable mixture of fantasy, innovation, and sheer, ear-splitting volume before or since. So we give his art space here, though we hold no quarter for his monstrous behavior as a human being. 

Italy

While Verdi may be the most recognizable name to come out of Italy’s late Romantic era, he wasn’t the only game in town.

Sure, Verdi almost single-handedly carried the torch for Italian opera from around 1842 to 1893, and his name was all but synonymous with his native land—to the point where he didn’t really need an address. (Seriously, there’s a legendary rumor that, when someone asked Verdi where to send him some mail, he simply said, “Just label it: Maestro Verdi, Italy.” That’s pretty baller.)

Still, a few of Verdi’s contemporaries have also withstood the test of time, among them composers Amilcare Ponchielli (1834-1886) and Arrigo Boito (1842-1918), Verdi’s sometime librettist. Plus Verdi’s work also paved the way for verismo, a new form of Italian opera that explored the lives of everyday people as well as their interpersonal relationships, socio-political struggles, and fatalistic flaws (see above).

Two verismo composers to remember are Ruggero Leoncavallo (1857-1919) and Pietro Mascagni (1863-1945). Why commit these names to memory? Because they’re the guys behind opera’s most famous double bill: Cavalleria Rusticana (Rustic Chivalry by Mascagni) and Pagliacci (The Clowns by Leoncavallo).

Almost never not performed together, these one-act operas are certified authentic™ examples of verismo, spinning tales of normal humans facing normal challenges that lead to shockingly abnormal conclusions. (No spoilers, but you know that sad clown who wields a knife? Not Sideshow Bob, but the other one? Yeah, that guy comes from Pagliacci.)

The next Italian name you should remember from this period? Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924). 

Unlike Leoncavallo and Mascagni, Puccini is considered in a class by himself. Not sure if this is entirely fair, but that’s fame for you.

However, if we’re being totally objective, it’s hard not to give the man who wrote La Bohème and Tosca some sort of award for lifetime achievement.* So, in the interest of giving him his due: Puccini’s operas, if not strictly in verismo style, brought much of the verismo spirit into the early decades of the 1900s, often making heroes and heroines out of “ordinary” folks like riverboat captains, painters, poets, seamstresses, and even cowboys.

In addition, Puccini’s musical experimentation—particularly in his final opera, Turandot—pushed 19th-century sonic boundaries while still remaining true to the late Romantics’ taste for gritty drama. If you’re looking for a composer to help bridge the gap between the late Romantic era and the early 20th century, Puccini just might be your uomo.  

*Nerdy aside: Leoncavallo wrote his own version of La Bohème too, but Puccini’s is just so darn good it seems to have left poor Ruggero’s Bohème in the dust.

France

Italy and Germany have stolen much of the late-Romantic limelight as far as history is concerned, but that doesn’t mean France didn’t have plenty to say about opera during the mid-to-late 19th century.

Paris was still very much a central operatic hub at the time, and grand opéra (though not as popular in its original form during this period) was still going semi-strong—only now emotional drama could sometimes outweigh dazzling spectacle. 

Much like we do with TV and film today, 19th-century France tended to divide opera into either heavy dramas or laugh-out-loud comedies. French comedies hit their late-Romantic stride thanks to Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880) who pioneered a new-ish genre called the opéra-bouffe or, later, the operetta; a lighter comic opera that would be made mega-famous by the British team of Gilbert and Sullivan. (Offenbach is also responsible for the catchy “can-can” tune we all know and love.) 

Across the aisle, French dramatic opera composers of this era churned out works influenced by music, literature, and philosophy from all over Europe and beyond. Examples included:

  • Les Pêcheurs de Perles (The Pearl Fishers) by Georges Bizet (1838-1875), set in South Asia and leveraging a Eurocentric vision of an “exotic” faraway culture.
  • Roméo et Juliette (Romeo and Juliet) by Charles Gounod (1818-1893), modeled after the Shakespeare play and mixing sweepingly romantic duets (à la Italian opera) with big and boisterous crowd scenes (a recognizable feature of earlier French grand opéra). 
  • Werther by Jules Massenet (1842-1912), based on a novella by German author Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, featuring intimate scenes between a small number of lead characters and highlighting “Sturm und Drang” tropes such as unrequited love. 
  • Pelléas et Mélisande (Pelleas and Melisande) by Claude Debussy (1862-1918), which carries traces of Wagnerian influence and reflects the rising tide of artistic Impressionism (think Monet, Renoir, or Cézanne) with its dream-like, non-stop score.

Russia & Czechoslovakia

If someone tells you operas are only written in Italian, German, French, or English, do not believe them. 

In keeping with our theme of late Romantic patriotism, composers out of 19th-century Russia and (what would become) Czechoslovakia championed their national cultures with operas inspired by Eastern European poetry, folk songs, and traditions. 

When talking about this period, Russian music scholars love to cite a five-man group of nationalist composers known as “The Mighty Handful” or “The Mighty Five,” each heavily influenced by maverick Russian musician Mikhail Glinka (1804-1857). But for our purposes, we’ll focus on just three of them: standout Russian opera innovators Alexander Borodin (1833-1887), Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881), and Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908).

These mighty three were instrumental in building a Russian operatic style steeped in native history and folk melody, though Mussorgsky is probably *the* late Romantic to know; his epics Boris Godunov (1874) and Khovanshchina (1886) helped establish him as an unofficial “Russian Verdi.”

Though let’s not forget Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikosvky (1840-1893) whose works were decidedly more Westernized and less overtly Russian, but who still composed a beautiful love letter—literally!—to his homeland with an operatic version of Alexander Pushkin’s tearjerker Eugene Onegin (1879).

Over in Czech territory, Bedřich Smetana (1824-1884) helped develop an exclusively Czech form of opera (Czech language, Czech storylines, Czech-inspired melodies and dances, etc.) as a sort of pushback against local German occupation. His works are still celebrated as an emblem of Czech national pride, and his 1866 opera The Bartered Bride remains an international favorite. 

To the rest of the world, though, the Romantic Czech composer with the most enduring legacy is Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904) who, like Tchaikovsky, drew on a variety of influences outside his home country. However, he did compose an operatic rendition of a Slavic folktale called Rusalka (1901), which features one of the most hypnotically beautiful arias you’ll ever hear.

Select Operas of the Late Romantic Era

Important Artists

The Late Romantic Era’s Legacy

What’s been passed down to us from the late Romantic era? The easier question is: What hasn’t? For some time, late Romantic works have been seated at the top of almost everyone’s “essential operas” list, and opera houses around the world tend to gravitate toward this period more than any other. Many singers, conductors, and directors of the last 75 years or so have been required to exhibit at least some expertise in the late Romantic repertoire, and demand is still insanely high for opera’s ABCs (Aïda, La Bohème, and Carmen), all of which are late Romantic masterpieces. 

Late Romantic features you’re still likely to hear/see today: 

  • Big, soaring, heroic voices, trained to stand out in terms of strength, endurance, and flexibility
  • Lavish sets (even productions that place the action in a different time or an abstract space are often huge spectacles in one way or another) 
  • A focus on “truth” or emotional and dramatic elements that feel poignant and real

Vocabulary

Gesamtkunstwerk (“total artwork”) – a term invented by Richard Wagner to describe his notion of the ideal opera, which combines all art forms (music, stagecraft, poetry, etc.) to create a perfectly synthesized work that washes over audiences and guides them toward new ways of thinking and feeling.

Leitmotif – typically a bite-sized melody (or “motive”) that gets repeated by the singers or the orchestra whenever an opera composer wants to call a person, place, object, thought, or idea to mind; though most often found in Wagner’s works, other composers such as Giuseppe Verdi were known to use this technique as well.

Opéra-Bouffe (sometimes referred to as “operetta,” though not all operettas are opéra-bouffe) – a “light” French opera, mostly from the mid-to-late 19th century; usually a comedy that pokes fun at the conventions of more serious/dramatic operas from earlier eras (not to be confused with opera buffa, a type of funny Italian opera developed in the 18th century).

Verismo (“realism” or “truth”) – a late 19th or early 20th century Italian opera that centers on normal, “everyday” characters going about their daily—though often highly dramatic—lives; verismo tunes are often majestic and romantic or piercing and powerful (or a combination of all four).

  • Writer

    Eleni Hagen

  • Producer

    Kenny Neal for
    Kennedy Center Education
    Digital Learning

  • Updated

    April 19, 2023

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Generous support for educational programs at the Kennedy Center is provided by the U.S. Department of Education. The content of these programs may have been developed under a grant from the U.S. Department of Education but does not necessarily represent the policy of the U.S. Department of Education. You should not assume endorsement by the federal government.

Gifts and grants to educational programs at the Kennedy Center are provided by A. James & Alice B. Clark Foundation; Annenberg Foundation; the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation; Bank of America; Bender Foundation, Inc.; Carter and Melissa Cafritz Trust; Carnegie Corporation of New York; DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities; Estée Lauder; Exelon; Flocabulary; Harman Family Foundation; The Hearst Foundations; the Herb Alpert Foundation; the Howard and Geraldine Polinger Family Foundation; William R. Kenan, Jr. Charitable Trust; the Kimsey Endowment; The King-White Family Foundation and Dr. J. Douglas White; Laird Norton Family Foundation; Little Kids Rock; Lois and Richard England Family Foundation; Dr. Gary Mather and Ms. Christina Co Mather; Dr. Gerald and Paula McNichols Foundation; The Morningstar Foundation;

The Morris and Gwendolyn Cafritz Foundation; Music Theatre International; Myra and Leura Younker Endowment Fund; the National Endowment for the Arts; Newman’s Own Foundation; Nordstrom; Park Foundation, Inc.; Paul M. Angell Family Foundation; The Irene Pollin Audience Development and Community Engagement Initiatives; Prince Charitable Trusts; Soundtrap; The Harold and Mimi Steinberg Charitable Trust; Rosemary Kennedy Education Fund; The Embassy of the United Arab Emirates; UnitedHealth Group; The Victory Foundation; The Volgenau Foundation; Volkswagen Group of America; Dennis & Phyllis Washington; and Wells Fargo. Additional support is provided by the National Committee for the Performing Arts.

Social perspectives and language used to describe diverse cultures, identities, experiences, and historical context or significance may have changed since this resource was produced. Kennedy Center Education is committed to reviewing and updating our content to address these changes. If you have specific feedback, recommendations, or concerns, please contact us at [email protected].